#(so you can filter out crap like this)

[tigerbears]

This is the one and only statement I'm going to make about that Kamala-Tale fangame.

(Disclaimer: I legally have to say I don't support piracy.)

You may have dotted your i's and crossed your t's so Kamala-Tale doesn't violate copyright (except for maybe trademark laws) but that doesn't change the fact the game is viewed as overpriced as hell in the Undertale/Deltarune Community!

We think it's funny but most of us don't want to buy it.

Maybe if it was, like, 1$, it wouldn't be so egregious, but the fact that currently, you can get Undertale for cheaper than Kamala-Tale is outrageous.

(Feel free to share the above images to like, the hellsite formally known as Twitter I don't want to go there until the Muskrat is gone)

[writeriguess]

In the Quiet of His Arms // Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader

author's note: I wrote this shortly after leaving Tumblr, seeking a bit of comfort, and I thought you might enjoy it too now that I'm back. <3

Katsuki Bakugo trudged into his dorm room, exhaustion settling into his muscles like cement. The day had been a nightmare—nonstop training drills, a mountain of assignments, and a particularly infuriating sparring session with Deku that had left his temper simmering. All he wanted was to collapse into bed and shut the world out for a while.

But when he opened the door, the sight that greeted him made him pause.

You were curled up on his bed, your body nestled into his pillow, your face slack with the kind of deep sleep that came only after sheer emotional or physical exhaustion. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across your face. But even in the dim light, Katsuki’s sharp eyes caught the signs of distress—tear-streaked cheeks, a faint crease between your brows, and the way your arms clutched his pillow like it was the only thing holding you together.

His chest tightened. He hadn’t seen you all day, but now it was clear why. You’d been having a rough time lately—he knew that much. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the “gentle comfort” type, but he wasn’t stupid. He saw the cracks in your usual smile, the way your shoulders sagged a little more each day, and the distant look that sometimes overtook your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to it. He shut the door quietly, locking it with a click, and set his bag down by the desk.

For a moment, he stood there, just watching you. Part of him wanted to let you sleep—you looked like you needed it—but another part of him, the louder part, hated the idea of you going through this alone.

With a sigh, he slipped off his shoes and padded over to the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat down beside you, his eyes softening further as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and gruff but gentle. "You good, or what?"

You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his. For a moment, confusion flickered across your face before recognition set in.

"Katsuki?" your voice was groggy, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, it’s me," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek lightly. "You’ve been out cold. What’s goin’ on?"

You blinked up at him, your expression guarded as you pushed yourself up slightly, propping on one elbow. "Nothing," you said quickly, your voice sharper now, trying to mask the vulnerability in your tone. "Just tired, that’s all."

"Tch." Katsuki narrowed his eyes. "Don’t give me that crap. I’m not stupid. You’ve been like this for days. What the hell’s goin’ on?"

"I said it’s nothing," you shot back, averting your gaze. "Just drop it, okay?"

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He hated how stubborn you could be—mostly because it reminded him of himself. But he also knew that pushing too hard would only make you clam up more. So he softened his tone, reaching out to take your hand in his.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Talk to me."

You hesitated, your fingers twitching in his grasp. For a moment, it looked like you might actually open up—but then you shook your head, forcing a weak smile.

"I’m fine, Katsuki. Really. It’s just been a long week."

"Bullshit," he said flatly. "You’ve been cryin’. Your face gives it away."

You froze at that, your eyes widening slightly before you quickly turned away, pulling your hand from his. "It’s not a big deal," you muttered, curling into yourself. "I can handle it."

Katsuki’s chest clenched at your words, anger bubbling up—not at you, but at whatever had made you feel like you had to carry this alone. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before lying down beside you.

"Move over," he said gruffly, slipping an arm around your waist before you could protest.

"Katsuki, what are you—"

"Shut up," he cut you off, pulling you closer so your back was pressed against his chest. His voice softened, his breath warm against your ear. "Just... let me be here, alright?"

You stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. But then his warmth seeped into you, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

"You don’t have to do this alone," Katsuki murmured, his tone uncharacteristically tender. "Whatever’s goin’ on, I don’t care how messy it is. I’m here."

His words made something in you crack. The walls you’d been holding up so carefully began to crumble, and before you knew it, tears were spilling down your cheeks again.

"Katsuki..." your voice broke, and you tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

"Let it out," he said firmly, his hand rubbing slow circles over your stomach. "I’m not goin’ anywhere."

And so you did. You let the tears flow, your body shaking as you finally let yourself be vulnerable in a way you hadn’t in weeks. Katsuki didn’t say much—he didn’t need to. He just held you, his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you through the storm.

When your sobs finally subsided, leaving you drained but lighter, you turned slightly to face him. His crimson eyes met yours, filled with an unwavering determination that made your heart ache.

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice hoarse.

"Don’t be," he said immediately, his hand brushing a tear-streaked strand of hair from your face. "You don’t have to apologize for feelin’ like crap."

You hesitated, your eyes searching his. "It’s just... everything’s been so overwhelming lately. I didn’t want to bother you with it."

"Idiot," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You’re not a bother. You’re my girl. If you’re hurtin’, I wanna know. Got it?"

You nodded, your throat tightening again—but this time, it wasn’t from sadness.

"Thanks, Katsuki," you whispered, leaning into him.

"Don’t thank me," he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Just don’t shut me out again. I can’t fix everything, but I’ll damn sure try."

As the two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other, the weight on your chest began to lift. Katsuki’s arms felt like a shield against the world, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe that things would be okay.

Because with him by your side, you knew you didn’t have to face it alone.

[stilljuststardust]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

How brainrot is killing your journey

Dominant thoughts and the avoidance of self.

3D = external world, the physical world. Often called the "mirror" because it adapts to reflect the 4D.

4D = internal world, the reality which we manifest from.

This is something I have been thinking about and researching for the past couple of days.

Many people would do anything to avoid sitting with their own thoughts, can't even take a shit alone , but when our thoughts create our reality where does that leave us?

When was the last time you sat with your thoughts for an extended period? Do you only sit and think about your life when you're spiraling and upset?

A common suggestion for people on their journey is to "go within". Surprisingly, many people genuinely respond that they don't know how.

In a world where we no longer have to engage with ourselves or our thoughts because of a constant stream of collective consciousness, it is no longer a necessary part of life to indulge in your own thoughts. For the first time, your mind and your internal world are an optional part of your life.

What was once inescapable has now become something that you can numb and silence with an endless stream of Subway Surfers and Family Guy clips.

People have become so disconnected with self and their own internal world that even being told to enter it is confusing and upsetting.

You have entered a state in which you do not think you only consume you have transformed yourself from creator to spectator. The voices of others flood your mind because you no longer listen to yourself.

Our own thoughts have been drowned out by the thoughts of others in a deafening wave of voices. When we sit and we do nothing but numb ourselves the only thoughts that will pierce through are the thoughts that force themselves to the front of our brain, painful and anxiety inducing thoughts.

Our dominant thoughts are what manifest and we no longer think except to spiral.

The 4D, what you have most likely heard about over and over from manifestation bloggers, is JUST your internal world.

You have all but abandoned your internal world. If you cannot even experience yourself and your own thoughts why are you surprised that you are RELIANT on external validation and the external world.

Why can't you ignore the 3D? Because you exclusively experience it.

Your internal world isn't manifesting because you refuse to experience yourself internally.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

End

I would love to talk about the many many other contributing factors but you don't have the attention span and I don't have the time.

Such as:

I think our brains are so flooded with dopamine and near constant information that your subconscious has trouble imprinting our desires because our affirmations are literally competing with an addictive substance, brainrot induced dopamine.

You accept the thoughts of others like it's nothing

Reduced decision making and impulse control

Inability to filter information

Brainrot kills self concept

The more dopamine your brain receives the more it needs to elicit the same reward response in the brain. Problem is, we have constant inescapable streams of dopamine at our finger tips.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Links, as always.

Reprogram your brain

How to get dopamine rewards healthily

Brainrot is holding you back, a video on how it affects your self concept from a medical professional.

From the third video:

"When you don't filter your perception and your mind is over colonized with sensory crap you end up adapting by forming beliefs about yourself as a result"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do it With a Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

NOW POSTED

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Excerpt here:

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be this gorgeous, it’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.” 

He dusts the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?” 

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.” 

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.” 

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to class its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will. 

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?” 

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?” 

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tilted floors and fall into the depths of hell. 

“She asked you out?” 

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!” 

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per say. But a sweet girl like Chrissy, one that bore pretty blonde curls, a sweet smile and a sweet disposition, this is like your worst nightmare come true. 

Thanks to the notion of living in a small town, you could recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out. 

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing. 

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, watching in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.” 

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?”

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.” 

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this isn’t a new habit of his. 

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?” 

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you tried to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing. 

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what is probably another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed. 

You smoked more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself. 

-

Final word count is about 24k so I think I'll post on the 15 to give my editor a fighting chance. If you want to be tagged let me know <3

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) breaking down how obsessed Andrew is w/his sister bc he's a repressed lil liar and I'm going insane

This post got longer than I intended it to

1. He claims they don't spend enough time apart from each other to even begin missing her so he doesn't even know if he would, but just earlier in the game he was apart from her for probs like 30 mins tops to investigates some cultists and guess what???? He was already missing her 😒

2. Says "I thought you grew out of this touchy-feely crap" when Ashley asks for a hug, but earlier when he was cooking dinner, he was the one with the inexplicable urge to "pull this broody bitch into [his] arms and force her to stay until she smiles" 😒

3. Piggy-backing off the last screenshot: WHAT OTHER THOUGHTS, ANDREW??? yOU WERE JUST THINKING ABT HUGGING HER. WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. THESE ARE SIMPLY INNOCENT BROTHERLY THOUGHTS ARE THEY NOT????? 🤨🤨🤨

4. Bro just can't keep his hands off her. And everyone thinks Ashley's the clingy one jeez (lol the way he springs apart from her when Mom catches them is definitely definitelyyyy not worth analyzing. nope. not even when it happens a second time on the couch. nope. nooope)

5. What. What is he thinking here. Don't think I don't see those grey lil blush lines. Is this connected to my third point somehow bc like... 🤨😬 Is "Andrew" is gonna start doing and being what "Andy" was too spineless and afraid of doing?? That's what the vow was partly abt right?? Does that include—

5. WHEWWW BOY that little flashback with his gf has so much baggage in it I just wanna dissect. His girlfriend's tryna have a serious discussion with him abt his weird sister for the sake of bettering their relationship bc she genuinely loves him, but he just gets caught up in fondly talking abt said weird sister instead??

6. He's awfully hesitant abt Ashley learning some independence, bc y'know what?? I think he doesn't really want her to stop relying on him. But what do I know y'know

6. Wants his gf to put tie her hair up in a ponytail, then when she refuses bc he'll pull on it, says it's just "how boys express their love". Well. You know who else puts there hair up in a ponytail??? You know who else's hair he's always pulling on and touching???

7. The voicemails in his gf's phone left by Ashley are heard by him in his dreams, and his dreams are a construction of his mind utilizing his memories, personal hangups, and knowledge of Ashley. The voicemails irl were left on his gf's phone, and for all we know, he never actually listened to them in person. Bearing this in mind... odds are the things Ashley's saying contain bits of truths he believes within himself, filtered thru her crude, hateful dialogue.

Here. I transcribed one of them...

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to… It's not you he seeks out. It is me."

8. Claims Ashley's the one with the jealous streak, not him, but I think he's just as bad. The only difference is that Ashley's never given him reason to act on it since all she's ever wanted was him, but at the slightest mention of her gettin it on w/someone else, even as a joke, he gets mad. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" he says, when she's jokingly contemplating getting knocked up via the neighbor so an ambulance would come for her. "I wouldn't let them," he says, when she's complaining abt not being pretty enough for the wardens to bang her

9. Going hand-in-hand with that fact, he's intensely protective of her. Didn't hesitate to cleaver the warden who found her in the closet (probs didn't even BLINK lmaooo he chose VIOLENCE), and when the cake-stealing cultist insulted her just once, he stepped forward just like that

10. In their apt, when they were lying on the floor talking abt jumping off the balcony, he was really caught up in the "romantic" fantasy of them committing a double suicide and dying with their bodies entwined so irreparably by the impact they form one unified corpse "never to be separated!" and they get buried in the same coffin together. UM??? Bro fr thought he was the sane one of the two. That wasn't even true before the cannibalism and demon summoning 😭😭😭

BONUS:

11. This might just be me, but his reaction to seeing the post-sex vision doesn't strike me as someone who's inherently opposed to the idea. Instead of disgusted, he was... flustered?? He acted like she walked in mid-guilty pleasure wet dream. This wasn't a "GROSS THATS INCEST" reaction which is... the most normal reaction to have. That's the face of a man that got CAUGHT bro.

He asks "we're not like that, are we?" and "why are you like this?" and questions the veracity of the vision, but he never actually explicitly denies wanting the vision to happen, more focused on Ashley and her reaction. He buries the elephant under the rug as fast as he can, bc yeah, it struck a landmine, but it probably wasn't a landmine for the reason Ashley thinks it is. I bet the vision just hit a little too close... :P

[fangirl-problems101]

“I Don’t Lose”

“Bakugo and l/n–you’re sparring partners today.”

Our favorite hothead finds himself being challenged by the most annoyingly sunshiny girl (literally) he’s ever laid eyes on

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader wc: ≈1.3k

✨🧨✨❤️✨🧨✨❤️‍🔥✨🧨✨❤️✨🧨✨❤️‍🔥✨🧨✨

The sun filtered in gently through the windows, the air so still you could see the dust peacefully wafting by--until Bakugo.

"OI, MOVE IT, DUNCE FACE!"

You sighed. 'For a moment, it was quiet.' You didn't bother opening your eyes as you heard the chair behind you scrap across the floor, opting to simply face the window next to you and bask in the glorious sunshine.

It wasn't that you disliked Bakugo, but sometimes the yelling was a bit excessive. You looked down at your fingers, twirling some of the light around them.

'Sure he's easy on the eyes, but how does someone get through life this long by just being cranky all the time??'

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Y/N?" Pink hair and a big grin pulled you from your thoughts.

You laughed, spinning some of the sunshine into a thin rubberband and braiding a small fringe of Mina's hair, "Just about how I'd go crazy without your positivity, Mina."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something Y/N didn't realize was that she was constantly being watched by two ruby red eyes.

"Dude, you're lowkey stalking at this point." Denki whispered.

Bakugo snapped his gaze to the living battery, "Why don't ya shut your face instead of spewin' crap?"

Kirishima popped his head over Kaminari's shoulder, "Bakubro, he DOES have a point. Maybe you should just do the manly thing and ask her out!"

"Tch. Get yer eyes fixed, both of you."

They opened their mouths to argue when Aizawa slunk into the room and they hurried back to their seats.

"For this period, you'll be split into pairs of my choosing for sparring. Please keep damage to a minimum today." Bakugo's eyes couldn't help but flit back to you as the listings got rattled off.

'I wonder what the chances would be. She'd be too easy to beat, just throwing sparkles or someth--'

“Bakugo and l/n–you’re sparring partners today.”

Both you and Katsuki's eyes widened.

'Well crap.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Standing in front of him, you couldn't help the competitive urge starting to thrum inside your chest. 'I WANT to beat him, I want to show him I can stand my ground.'

"Don't go gettin' any big ideas, idiot."

"And why's that?" You pouted, but Bakugo saw that glint of mischief and determination in your eyes. He knew that look well, but what he didn't know was how his heart would start beating faster seeing it on you.

He scoffed, looking away with a slight pink tinge on his ears, "Because I'm only holding back enough to not cause major damage. Don't need ya crying all the way to that old lady and wasting her time."

"...so what I'm hearing is that the all-powerful and illustrious Murder God Explosion Lord-"

"That was an absolute freaking butchering of my-"

"-is scared, and holding back."

His eyes narrowed. It didn't matter how cute you were, NOW you've got his blood starting to simmer.

"Yer gonna eat those words, Twinkle Toes." He growled.

A wicked grin stretched your lips, "Oh, sweet thing, I think you don't even realize what you're up against. Because I don't lose."

And just like that, the dance began.

The room was filled with bursts of light and smoke, of yells and cries and growls. You were practically twirling around his attacks. You hadn't even begun to use your quirk, merely dodging and evading his own attacks and gleefully watching him get more and more riled up.

"STOP MOVING FOR ONE FREAKING SECOND!!"

The entire time, you never stopped smiling, and then you activated your quirk. Your abilities were practically the opposite of Tokoyami's. While he had 'revelery in the dark,' you had a friend in anything that emitted light--including Bakugo's explosions (and even Denki's electricity and Aoyama's sparkles).

You flicked your finger.

His palms quickly fizzled with smoke, the explosions instead drawing into your own hands. The flames were unpredictable, but still a light source, so it was fairly easy to manipulate. You opted for more of a fluid approach, the fire looking like a smooth stream of water circling your arms. He gritted his teeth and kept trying to land a hit, kick, spark, anything on you, but each time, it just flowed right to your growing flood of fire and light.

You fluttered your eyelashes, "Still think I'm gonna run off crying, Katsuki?~"

He stuttered to a stop, a deep red growing on his cheeks. An opening.

All the fire you had kept snatching from him now rushed at him, physically tangible and blindingly bright. It swept him up by the back of his collar, bound up his wrists, and had him pinned to the wall in a matter of seconds.

"And that," his wide-eyed stare snapped to you, "is checkmate, sweetheart." Your lips curled into the sweetest smile, blowing him a kiss and a wink.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Needless to say, the poor boy was humiliated, yet very much impressed and even more in love and in awe. He grumbled about how you hadn't sparred fair and that he had taken it easy on you, opting to walk away kicking the ground instead of arguing things further.

'How on earth does someone look so gorgeous while completely destroying me?'

He dragged his hand over his face, replaying how bright your smile was and the gleam that never left your eye, how you genuinely were having fun while he was tripping over his own feet and looking like a complete idiot in front of you and everyone else.

Yeah he intended on taking it easy on you, but you definitely started to get under his skin when he quickly realized how difficult it'd be to land any sort of hit on you. Not that he wanted to hit you, he just had a reputation to uphold. That was hardly sparring! No counters, no blocks, just avoidance and twirling and your wonderful laugh...

He shook his head. 'Knock it off. That's exactly why you were caught so off-guard.' This wouldn't do. He'd need to spar more often with you so he could figure out how to get the upper hand and not be distracted anymore.

A soft knock sounded from his door.

Bakugo grumbled under his breath and trudged over, "I already told you, hair-for-brains, just-"

But it wasn't Kirishima at the door. Instead, he was peering down at a bashful, fidgeting you.

Your hands were fiddling with the hem of your shirt, eyes peaking up at him with a nervous smile. "H-hey..."

"What, come to gloat? It was dumb luck, you overgrown nightlight." He grunted, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. His voice had no real sting to it though, more of a soft poke.

"I actually came to apologize... I was kinda maybe a bit of a brat-"

He raised a brow, "Maybe?"

You glared up at him, "Lemme finish before I change my mind and start a lightshow in your room whenever you try going to bed at 8-freaking-pm, old man."

"M'kay."

"As I was saying," you cleared your throat. "I'm sorry. Even though it was fun, and honestly kinda cute, seeing you so lost."

"So is this your way of confessing?" His smirk slowly grew into a grin.

A chill crept up your spine as your jaw dropped and a furious blush bloomed on your cheeks, "WAIT NO THAT'S NOT-"

"Because I accept. You're welcome."

Heat exploded in your chest, "W-wait, hang on-"

He leaned down and cupped your cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead (also trying to hide his own red face), "You're mine now, 'sweetheart.' If I were you, I'd get used to it."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this is my first time writing anything on here! i haven't written in a while, so I'm pretty rusty🥲

sorry if he's a bit ooc😖 wanted a fic of Bakugo learning what it feels like to be awestruck and get beaten by someone he's head over heels for

[reallyromealone]

Can you do (whatever characters you like) x male omega reader?

I don’t care what character(s) get put x reader.

Plot: Toman was in a meeting talking about god knows what when reader begins to enter pre-heat. Chaos insues

Title: atypical courting

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Toman + others

Fic type: smut

Pairings: all x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, nsfw, smut, Omega male reader, group sex, double penetration

Notes: I just added everyone in here, it's all post story version's but crime ✨

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

He's known them most of his life, Mikey coming to his dad's bakery almost daily and witnessing (name) beat the crap out of a thief trying to rob them, immediately asking him to join Toman even if he was an Omega.

That was ten years ago, and here he was.

On top of the world.

Being a Toman executive wasn't easy, especially as (name) secondary gender but he made it work as he kept a constant supply of suppressants to keep his heat at bay, refusing to be seen in a moment of weakness by the other Toman executives.

(Name) And the others always had... Tension between them, not hostile not but more so sexual, they had for a very long time and neither parties actually handed it from the occasional light pass to a grope, a game of cat and mouse.

Mikey, hanma and Kisaki were one of the worst ones with their infatuation, obsessed with him without ever doing anything.

(Name) Was annoyed as he sat in the meeting, he called in sick for a reason and nooo! He had to be here to hear about god damn taxable buildings they needed to check up on! (Name) Was prepping for his upcoming heat, his preheat would hit any day now and he just didn't want to be here when it happened.

He couldn't afford to be vulnerable with people present.

"(Name), you good? Yer' sweatin' fucking buckets" Baji barked out as everyone turned to look at (name) who was barely present as a sweet smell filtered through the room, the smell of preheat.

"Why did you come if you were in preheat?!" Kisaki yelled and (name) hissed back at him "I TRIED AND YOU WERE LIKE NO EXCUSES! THIS IS IMPORTANT!" he did not care that he was yelling at a Toman vp, his stomach cramping and headache forming as he shakily stood "I'll bring you home" chifuyu and mitsuya said in a synchronized tone before glaring at one another "I'm fine, I'll just go home" (name) grunted as he stood, shaking slightly as he walked out of the room but he didn't get too far as the Toman executives be worked with daily flanked his side's, the Haitani brothers just behind him as hanma wrapped his arm around his waist.

"Back off!" (Name) Hissed at them "I'm a grown man, I can handle myself" he glared and removed Hanmas hand and the specticalled man smiled at the other as if he were an angry kitten "you have an alpha to care for you?" Draken said seriously and (name) looked cross "that's none of any of your business" (name) moved faster down the hall and towards the elevator, pushing them back with little effect as they towered over and got in, (name)s headache and cramp being particularly hard and a pained whine escaped his lips "you haven't had a heat in a while, what has it been a year? Since you had one?" Kisaki said to the other while pulling him closer from behind "we all know you don't have friends outside of Toman"

"And we know you want us as much as we want you" Muto finally pipped up as Mikey pulled him closer, hips touching each other and the smell of pharamones made (name) hazy "let us treat you good... Be our pack Omega" Mikey commanded softly, watching (name) sway slightly before the short blond lifted him effortlessly "just... Just don't claim me..." He whispered, thankful he was wearing his collar today as they all grinned.

(Name) Didn't know whose cock was where as he was double penetrated, when one cock thrusted in the other thrusted out as someone's cock was in his mouth, jerking off others as he was surrounded by alphas and cocks as he was touched and most of all filled to he brim.

"Alphaaa~" if (name) were even slightly coherent he would be horrified at the fact he was pulling his boss closer with his ankles around the blonds neck as he jerked off smileys cock that was right by his lips, moving to take it in his mouth with a soft hum.

"God, we should have made you ours forever ago.." pah said drained, having had the soul sucked from him via (name)s tight ass "you think he would be a house Omega? Bare foot?" Angry asked curiously as he too recovered and Draken snorted "he would rip out our eyes for even suggesting that"

It was true, despite being cock drunk and needy now, they knew he was too work driven to even think of that, he wasn't a house Omega who would sit all docile for them.

They literally saw him beat the shit out of a lower employee for losing a cargo box of drugs.

So that said enough.

"I'm just happy we don't have to dance around each other... I wanted so many times to take him in my office" Koko said and Sanzu grunted in agreement "I once saw him climb the lounge kitchen counter and his ass was at face level, took everything not to shove my face in his plush ass" Sanzu was almost hard thinking about it but (name) fucked him out of commission for at least a day.

It had only been five hours and the Omega is just getting exhausted as he let the there's do as they pleased to him, eyes barely staying open as he took what was given.

(Name) Woke up sore, real sore as he sat up to see bodies all over the room, chatting or sleeping as the Omega processed what happened "you need another knot baby?" Baji asked as he chugged a water bottle as Angry looked at (name) curiously as poor (name) processed what took place, cum leaking from his ass as he shakily got out of Draken and Kakuchos hold "what... Fuck... Ow" (name)s hips and ass hurt as he nearly fell over, caught by smiley who snickered at the other man's pain "what did you all go to town on me?!"

"Yuuup" the pink haired twin said kissing his cheek with a cackle "I need a shower..." (Name) Grumbled as he stumbled to the washroom with a hard limp, kicking out any horny alphas that tried to join him.

(Name) Soaked in the bath as he thought about what transpired... He just fucked all his co-workers.

And his bosses!

Oh god he got railed by Mikey and Draken at once.

Memories flooded back as he remembered everything they said to him, everything he did!

He practically attacked Kisaki for his dick!

He didn't hear the washroom door open as mitsuya walked in dressed in nice clothes, a to go bag in one hand and clothes in the other "you haven't eaten since last night" mitsuya chuckled as he crouched before (name) "we got you some breakfast" he said as (name) looked confused "why?"

"You're the pack Omega, gotta keep you taken care of"

"I'm no--""-- we aren't asking you to quit, we just want you and we know you wanted in our pack... To stubborn to admit it"

(Name) Flushed as he didn't deny it and looked at the food they got him, his favorites all present as the Alpha tried to feed him "you have wet hands, you might drop a chopstick"

After the bath, Mikey tried to demand (name) live with one of them preferably him but (name) shut that shit down "I am not going to be your back and call fuck toy " he grumbled and Mikey glared but the pout proved his harmlessness at that moment.

"Next time, in not letting you all rail me back to back"

"No promises"

[insidekatmind]

Beyond the Fear~Jude Bellingham

Plot: you and Jude fight because he wants a child but you don't feel ready

wearing: angst, sweet ending

You are in the small park next to the apartment complex where you live, where the afternoon sun filters through the branches of the trees, creating bright spots on the grassy ground. The children run and laugh around you, their energy is contagious. You enjoy spending time with them, organizing little games, telling stories or helping them with their homework. It is a moment of lightness, of pure carefreeness.

Jude, your boyfriend,watches you from a distance. It is not unusual for him to do so. He often leans on the fence of the park or sits on a bench a few meters away. You recognize him immediately.

"You always stay here, huh?" he says one day, leaning in with a smile that tries to hide something deeper.

"I like being with them," you say, pointing to the group of children playing hide and seek. "They're so full of life."

Jude nods slowly, but his gaze doesn't move from you. It's intense, almost piercing. You feel the weight of his eyes on your face, on your hands as they fix a little girl's braid.

"You're incredible with them,"he murmurs at one point. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but loud enough to reach your ear."You know... sometimes I think about what it would be like to have a child of our own."

His statement takes you by surprise. You turn to him, trying to read the enigmatic smile on his face. "A child, huh?" You ask with a light laugh. *"Don't you feel like you're rushing a little?"

*But Jude doesn't laugh. He takes a step closer, letting the silence between you thicken. "I'm not kidding," he says with a sincerity that both makes you uncomfortable and intrigued."Every time I see you with them... I can't get the idea out of my head of what you'd be like as a mother. Perfect, I'd say."

You blush, looking down. "It's a nice thought, but... it's not the right time."

"When will it be, then?" he insists, gently taking your hand. His touch is warm, reassuring, but you sense a sort of hidden urgency.

His fingers trace small circles on your palm, a silent, insistent request for your acquiescence.*

"Jude..." you hesitate, looking up. Your eyes meet his intense look. "We've only been together a few months...it's too early to think about such serious things."

*He nods, but there's a stubborn stubbornness to his expression. "I don't believe in fate, destiny, or crap like that." He says, a little harshly. "But from the moment I saw you, I was sure of one thing: you were made for me."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. You've heard them before, in small declarations of love and passionate embraces. But this time it's different.

Jude's fingers tighten around yours, almost anxiously. "There's something about you, something that makes me feel..." he struggles to find the words. "I don't just feel attracted to you because you're beautiful, or funny, or intelligent. It's like I've known you all my life. Like in my soul, deeper than I can put into words, I know you're the one."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. You've heard them before, in small declarations of love and passionate embraces. But this time it's different.

Jude's fingers tighten around yours, almost anxiously. "There's something about you, something that makes me feel..." he struggles to find the words. "I don't just feel attracted to you because you're beautiful, or funny, or intelligent. It's like I've known you all my life. Like in my soul, deeper than I can put into words, I know you're the one."

His grip on your hand becomes almost painful. "I want to share everything with you. I dream of going through life together. Of having adventures, of loving you till we're 80, of having children... I know it sounds silly but... I can't see myself with anyone but you."

You look at him, torn between surprise and affection. He's so vulnerable here, so different from the usual self-assured man you know.

"I... I don't know what to say," you stutter, trying to order your chaotic thoughts. "I love you, too... But what we have now is so good... Why must we rush into things?"

His eyes narrow, as if your answer is not what he expected. He runs a hand over his face, frustrated. "I'm rushing? It's been months, darling. We're not getting any younger. Life is short. I don't want to waste a instant."

Your heart beats faster, not just because of his intense gaze, but also due to his words. His insistence on the concept of time makes you uncomfortable, you feel pushed into a choice.

"I understand that you want these things, believe me. But we're still figuring each other out. We should enjoy this phase of our relationship..." you try to reason, but Jude interrupts you, his voice a little more urgent than before.

"What do you mean 'figure us out'? I feel like I know you better than myself! What more should we know?"

You take a small step back, overwhelmed by his persistence. You'd hoped that this talk would end with a laugh, in a warm hug. Instead, it's becoming an argument, something you didn't expect.

"There are so many things we don't know about each other," you explain, your voice wavering a bit. "We haven't gone on any significant trips, we haven't met our parents, we haven't faced any serious problems... these are all fundamental things, Jude."

A small shadow of annoyance passes over his face, making his features harden.

"What are you implying? That our relationship is not serious because we haven't done all these things? That it's all just an illusion?"

You shake your head, trying to find the right words to express what you feel. "No, no, I'm not saying that at all. I'm just trying to be realistic. We can't make big decisions if we haven't experienced many things together."

"I don't know, I don't know..." you say, frustrated and a little scared.".We both know it's not just about time. It's a feeling, it's an intuition."

Jude makes a small sound, almost like a scoff.

"This isn't about your damn intuition," he says, a hint of anger finally breaking through. "I want a life with you, I want to wake up next to you every morning... Is it so hard to understand?"

You shake your head, feeling tears stinging your eyelids. This conversation is taking a direction you weren't expecting, and it's hurting you.

"Of course, it's not hard to understand. I want those things too, but..."

He suddenly grabs your shoulders, almost shaking you. "But what, huh? What is holding you back from making a commitment?"

"It's not that I don't want to make a commitment," you try to explain, your voice choked with sobs. "I love you, you know that. But committing to a life together...it's a huge deal."

He lets out a breath that sounds like a strangled laugh, and releases your shoulders, taking a step back.

"I see. Commitment must come when you're ready, huh? The right time, the perfect set of circumstances..." he says, his voice full of sarcasm.

His words cut deep. You feel accused but don't understand why.

"Jude, that's not what I'm saying..."

But he silences you, his gaze burning with frustration and disappointment.

"Isn't it?" he asks bitterly. "You want to keep playing this game until everything is perfectly aligned, until it's too late. But life doesn't work like that."

You feel a sense of panic, like things are spiraling out of control.

"Please, stop... This is not how I wanted this conversation to go." You take hold of his forearms, your fingers wrapping around his tense muscles. But he doesn't soften.

"How would you want it to go, then? Would you like me to wait until we're old and gray?" Jude says, his sarcastic tone like a blade in your heart.

you look at him trying to make him see reason "Jude we are only twenty-one years old"

He looks at you with a mix of disbelief and anger.

"Twenty-one is not that young, darling," he retorts through gritted teeth. "Many people have families at our age. Hell, some get married at eighteen !"

You let go of his arms, taking a small step back. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, but you try to keep your voice steady.

"But most people wait. Just because some others go through these steps early doesn't mean we have to do the same."

He lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"So what, we'll just wait and wait and wait some more... just because most people do?"

His tone is harsh, like he's expecting a specific answer that you can't give him.

"I... I don't know..." you stutter, overwhelmed by the force of his insistence.

He takes a step forward, closing the small distance between you. "Exactly. You don't know. You have no idea when you'll feel ready, and you have no idea how much time you're asking me to waste."

His words cut deep. They make you feel like a fool, like a coward who's afraid to make decisions. But you try to keep control, even though your vision is starting to blur from the tears you're holding back.

"I'm not asking you to waste anything... I just want..."

He cuts you off with a sharp laugh. "You want... what, exactly? Do you even know what you want?"

The question hangs in the air like a heavy cloud, and you struggle to find an answer. In a way he's right.

"Of course, I...I want a future with you," you start, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

"But I also want to enjoy being young, to do things we can't do once we have responsibilities, bills to pay, maybe a family..."

He looks at you, his gaze intense and critical.

"You think having a family would prevent you from enjoying life? Do you think having responsibilities would make everything impossible?"

There's a hint of hurt behind his anger, as if your words are twisting a knife in an open wound.

You take a deep breath, trying to make him understand what you feel."No, that's not what I'm saying. I know there will be beautiful aspects too, moments that will fill us with joy..."

He shakes his head, dismissing your words.

"But you're afraid. You're scared of the commitment, of the responsibility. Of giving up your freedom."

You shake your head fiercely, feeling like he doesn't understand you at all. The tears are ready to burst, like a dam about to break.

"I'm not scared of commitment. I love you more than anything! It's just... It's a big decision, can't you see? I'm not scared, I just need time."

He scoffs, his eyes narrowing. "Time. Always more time. But what if I don't want to give you time? What if I don't want to spend my youth waiting for you to make up your mind?"

His words sting like a knife, leaving you cold.

"So what, you're just going to give up on us because I want a little more time?" you ask, your voice choked with tears.

He doesn't respond right away, his gaze averted. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, a hint of regret in his tone.

"Is it really just a 'little' more time? Or another year, two years... or maybe five?"

You swallow hard, the reality of his words sinking in. It's true, you can't give him a definitive timeline. The thought of losing him fills you with fear, but the thought of rushing into something you're not ready for is equally scary.

"I don't know..." you whisper, fighting back tears. "I just wish you could understand."

He sighs, and his features soften a bit. "Understand what, darling? That you need to figure stuff out before committing to me? That I have to sit around and wait for you to make a choice? How do you expect me to be okay with that?"

The accusation stings, and your frustration begins to match his.

"I'm not impossible! I just need time."

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How much time? A month? Six months? A year?"

His insistence is exhausting, and you suddenly feel the need to defend yourself.

"Stop pushing me! I can't give you a damn timeline because I don't know how long it will take me to be ready!" you cry out, surprising even yourself with the volume of your voice.

His eyes widen at your outburst, clearly not expecting such a reaction from you. The silence that follows is tense, filled only by the sound of your heavy breathing.

He looks at you for what feels like an eternity, his expression a mixture of frustration and hurt, and then sighs, running a hand over his face.

"You know what? Forget it. We're going around in circles. It's pointless."

A pang of pain stabs your heart at his words. You feel abandoned, like he's giving up on you without even trying to understand.

"So that's it? You'll give up on us just like that?" You ask, your voice cracking with emotion.

His words cut deep, making you feel like a fool, like a child who doesn't know what they want.

"Is it so hard to wait?” You say, your voice trembling with tears.

He looks at you like you've said something stupid, and he snaps.

"Yes, damn it! It's hard! It's harder than anything I've ever done. Spending day after day, not knowing if you'll ever want to build a life with me. Wondering if I'm just wasting my time."

It breaks your heart to hear him express his fears like this, to realize how much this hurts him. You want to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him it will be okay. But the words choke in your throat.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." You whisper, your voice trembling with sobs.

He lets out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, they're filled with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.

"But you are hurting me. By not knowing what you want, by not giving me some kind of certainty. Do you even see a future with me?"

"sure baby" whispers softly

His expression softens slightly at your words, but his eyes remain searching, as if he's trying to understand more than just your answer.

"You say you see a future with me, but do you really? Are you sure I'm what you want? Because if I'm not, you need to be honest. I'm tired of being in this limbo, of waiting for you to make up your damn mind."

Your heart aches at the pleading in his voice, and you reach out a trembling hand towards him.His closeness, the certainty in his voice, it's so tempting to give in to his reassurance. But doubt still nags at you.

"But what if I can't figure it out?" You whisper, feeling like a failure."What if I'm stuck in this feeling forever?"His closeness, the certainty in his voice, it's so tempting to give in to his reassurance. But doubt still nags at you.

"But what if I can't figure it out?" You whisper, feeling like a failure."What if I'm stuck in this feeling forever?"

"Of course I see a future with you," you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion.'But I just.. I need a little more time to be absolutely sure."

Jude looks at your outstretched hand, his expression still edged with frustration.

"Time. Always more time. But how much is enough? How long until you're 'absolutely sure'?"

He looks at your outstretched hand, his expression still edged with frustration.

"Time. Always more time. But how much is enough? How long until you're 'absolutely sure'?"

You shake your head, feeling frustrated and helpless. It's true, you can't give him a timeline, but you want him to understand.

"I don't know..." you admit, your voice thick with guilt. "I just want to be sure, to be absolutely sure, that we're doing the right thing here. A life together, it's a big deal, it's a huge commitment..."

A hint of disbelief flashes in his eyes.

"You don't think I know that?" He asks, his voice rising slightly. "I know it's a huge commitment. And I'm ready for it, dammit, I've been ready for a while."

His intensity makes you shudder, but you try to steady yourself.

"I know you're ready. And I'm scared, okay? I'm scared that I won't be able to give you what you want, that I won't be enough."

Jude looks at you incredulously, surprised by your confession.

"You think you're not enough? Is that what this is about? You being scared you're not good enough for me?"

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes again. The fear of not being good enough, of not measuring up, has been at the back of your mind for a while now, but you've never voiced it.

He lets out a breath, his expression shifting from incredulous to something softer.

"Goddammit, darling, is that what you think?"

You nod again, unable to speak as the tears start to fall. The weight of your insecurities is suddenly too much to bear

He watches you for a moment, his expression a mixture of surprise and hurt.

"You really think I'd want to spend the rest of my life with someone who's not 'good enough'?"

You look down, unable to meet his gaze. Your insecurities are screaming that he deserves better, that you're not worthy of his love and commitment.

"I don't want to hold you back," you whisper, your voice barely audible."I don't want to be a burden."

He shakes his head, his expression becoming more intense.

"Hold me back? You're not a burden. Goddamnit, you have no idea the way I feel about you, do you?"

His words hit you hard, chipping away at the wall of insecurity you've built around yourself. But doubt still lingers in the back of your mind.

"What if… what if I can't give you what you want?" You ask, your voice trembling.

He takes a step closer, his gaze serious and determined.

"Babe, what I want is you. Just you. I don't care about anything else. And if you're scared you can't give me what you think I need, don't you think that's something we can talk about and figure out together?"

His closeness, the certainty in his voice, it's so tempting to give in to his reassurance. But doubt still nags at you.

"But what if I can't figure it out?" You whisper, feeling like a failure."What if I'm stuck in this feeling forever?"

He tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze.

"Then we'll figure it out together. I'm not giving up on us, on you. We'll work through it, we'll find a way. I'm in this for the long haul, no matter what."

you smile sweetly and hug him with sweetness.He hugs you back, his arms wrapping tightly around you. His embrace is warm and reassuring, and for a moment, all your fears and doubts are drowned out by his presence.

He buries his face in your hair, his voice a low murmur. "I'm not going anywhere."

hearing his words you hug him tighter "I love you Jude"

He tightens his hold on you, his heart racing at your words. For a moment, he just holds you, basking in the sweetness of your declaration, before pulling back enough to look at you.

"I love you too, darling. More than you could ever know."

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 17

dirty talk - miya atsumu x reader

word count: 583

kinktober masterlist

Everyone in Atsumu’s life knew he had a big mouth. He was the guy who didn’t know when to shut up. And it annoyed the crap out of everyone. His friends, his teammates, his twin brother. However, you had never once complained about it.

When you first said you didn’t really mind Atsumu’s lack of filter, everyone was rightfully shocked. Osamu had questioned you on multiple occasions about it (“how do you fight the urge to just deck him across the face?”) and Suna had straight up declared you a psycho (he was being dramatic, of course). You had a feeling that if they knew exactly why you loved Atsumu running his mouth, they would never look at you the same.

You looked on at your boyfriend right now, eyes shining with adoration and pure lust as you watched him fall apart at the feeling of your pussy clinging to his cock in a death grip.

“H-ha~” Atsumu’s moan was high and broken, his hair disheveled and matted to his forehead by sweat, red flush covering his cheeks, his neck, all the way down to his bare chest. His arms flexed when he gripped your thighs hard, pushing them further up to rest on either sides of your torso, bending you in half. You sighed when it made his dick hit deeper in you, and Atsumu cursed.

“B-baby, fuck.” His voice sounded so wrecked, you were sure you could cum just from that. “Pumped ya full of loads of cum and yer still tight as hell. God, yer so perfect. Pussy made just fer me, yeah?”

You moaned at the words and nodded furiously, the slow slide of his cock growing torturous. He was throbbing inside you, balls tight and ready for him to cum again. Your pelvis was covered in your own juices and his cum, your legs wobbling and shaking in his hold. Your core was tingling with overstimulation, but you wanted more, more, more.

“Tsumu.” you gasped, trying to convey to him what you needed. Your tear filled eyes saw his own face stretch with a wide smirk.

“Whatcha want? Another load? Ya want more cum?” His voice dropped low, eyes like molten earth, burning into you. He leaned over you, resting his weight on you, before he pulled back to slam his hips down hard against you. You yelped when he hit your sweet spot.

“You greedy slut. How much more ya want? Yer spillin all over the place. Can’t even hold this much cum in ya. But ya still want it. Fine, then. Princess gets what princess wants.”

And there was his mouth, running and running, words getting filthier and filthier, slurring together as he picked up the pace. His thrusts were getting more and more sloppy, quicker, desperate. You could feel, for the thousandth time, the knot in your lower stomach tightening. You were so close.

“Make a mess on me, baby. C’mon. Need ta feel ya gush all over me. I know you have it in ya. I know what this sweet pussy can give me. Ya want my cum? Gimme yer cum first, sweetheart. C’mon. Milk my cock-”

And you toppled over the edge, feeling more and more wetness coat your thighs and his hips, babbling nonsensical words while Atsumu talked about how good you looked and how fucking amazing it feels and oh god, he was gonna cum too….

Miya Atsumu’s big mouth came in handy sometimes. The people in his life just didn’t know that.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[carame1bunny]

‎ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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The beginning of something, yay! I really hope you like it and I’ll try to write as fast as I can. I want the chapters to be way longer, so I’m going to try working on it! Enjoy! xx Bunny

warning: none, maybe Alastor being a cocky bitch:)

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Alastor didn’t even know how he ended up here. Sitting in his car and driving to the loveliest jazz bar in New Orleans, The Red Magnolia, his favorite. Rosie, an old and dear friend of his, has recommended him to a manager, even though he didn't ask for it. He wasn’t interested in making any deals, but went to the “meeting” for her sake.

He knew he had a way with people, so he could have easily succeeded in business, however, his heart was always set on radio. Even when he was a little kid, putting on a show for his mother and pretending to be a radio host, his microphone consisted of a stick and a rock stuck to it with a few layers of cheap tape. Well, he was a real one now— the best one in all of Louisiana at that. Yet, it was sometimes good to make some investments and add to his wealth. After all, money opened doors charisma alone could not.

The humid air carried the familiar scent of lingering perfumes and magnolias, it was spring after all. There was no spring in New Orleans without magnolias. The distant hum of the city was mingling with the sound of his engine.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his eyes began recognizing the area around the bar. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the chatter of late-night revelers grew louder. It was busier than usual, which made him frown. He hoped that it wouldn’t get too popular, he didn’t need people recognizing him left and right whenever he came here. It was lovely to speak to his listeners and hear them praise his hard work, but not when he came here to have one or two glasses of rye and look for his next victim. That, he preferred to do in peace.

He parked his car and made his way in through the back room. The young woman cleaning in the back immediately perked up and went to stand in front of him.

“W-welcome, Mr.Leblanc!” She stood rigidly, clutching her cleaning cloth like a lifeline. He towered over the girl, who was obviously very flustered by it. He smiled smugly, pleased when he was able to make the ladies blush and stammer. And he loved when men were nervous around him, afraid of his words that could shatter their fragile little egos.

“Mr.Devereux is waiting for you in his office.” She fidgeted with the hem of her uniform. “Shall I lead you the way?” She looked up at him. She was pouting her lips, trying to make them look plushier, and tried to open her eyes up wider. It was pathetic.

“Thank you, buttercup.” He flashed a grin, and stepped aside to go up the stairs. The somewhat little bar had a decoration that was just perfectly his taste— dark red, black and gold. The warm, flickering glow of candlelight danced against the rich walls, giving the place an intimate, almost theatrical ambiance. The jazz band’s music filtered through the floor, it made him smile. Jazz had always brought him comfort, and it was his Mama’s favorite. He paused for a moment on the landing, letting the smooth rhythm of the music fill his senses. The black door of Mr.Devereux’s office taunted him, he reminded himself that he won’t let Rosie talk him into any more crap.

After a quick composing of himself, he knocked and stepped in slowly. Mr.Devereux was a short little man well into his forties; his head was balding and his body rounding. He kinda reminded Alastor of a garden gnome. He stood up fastly, nearly stumbling over his own feet, at least he wouldn’t have a big fall.

“Mr.LeBla—”

“Just Alastor.”

“Alastor, in that case… Just call me Rob, I’m very pleased that you were able to make it!” He shook his hand with the little man and smiled tightly when he felt the man’s sweaty palm. It made sense, he was awfully nervous, and could barely look Alastor in the eye. He recognized this kind of nervousness in men. Sweaty palms, red faces and the constant furrow of their brows, it was the matter of money. “Brandy?” Rob offered, his own glass already filled to the rim. He mumbled a ‘sure’, and sat down on the chair that sat before Rob’s desk. Once delivered, he sipped at his brandy and hummed at the burn in his throat.

Once he fell back in his seat, Rob spoke. “I was glad when Rosie told me your name, after I burdened her with my troubles.” He chuckled, his chubby fingers massaging his most likely aching temples. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase, because it’s awfully urgent.” Great, Alastor thought, let’s get this over with.

“There’s this lady…Y/N Valmont. We have gotten her half a year ago. Her face is real pretty, voice like a siren. However, we cannot afford to keep her. Even though people adore her, the bars pay way less for her time.” He swallowed his brandy in one go and continued as soon as the liquor went down. “Mostly because she's a woman, and because she’s unmarried, they expect her to… how can I say this nicely? Do you understand?

Alastor was at a loss, he had no idea what this had to do with him and why “No, Mr.Devereux, I don’t know what you mean. Care to explain?” He had an idea what the proposition was, but he wanted to hear it from Rob’s mouth.

“They expect her to whore herself out, kiss the ass of the male audience. And obviously, she refuses to, stubborn little lady she is, but she can be real sweet when she wants to b—“ Al silenced him by putting a hand up. The other man immediately retorted back into his chair and straightened his back.

Now he spoke what he had on my mind the whole time since he stepped in the Red Magnolia. “What does this have to do with me? I am nothing, but a radio host.” Being humble was always a safe way to go in his opinion.

“Alastor, you have power, you are heard by all of New Orleans. And I have heard that take part in investments from time to time, she could be your greatest investment.” He was stumbling over his words, a new layer of sweat formed on his reddish face.

“If she says she doesn’t want to be courted around, then what would change if I “bought” her from you?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. There was a somewhat awkward silence in the office, the only thing that was heard was the jazz sneaking up and through the floorboards. He could also nearly hear the gears turning in the other man’s head, he was really thinking hard about how to say his next few words.

“Well, people will eventually know that you’re her sponsor and gossip will come around. They will assume you’re courting her and that’s it. No one will expect her to whore herself around. All you have to do is sponsor her, pay for her numbers, her dresses and everything that helps her doll up. I would say… 80 percent, and we will pay the rest. We will manage her, and you just pay.”

He was confused, and just a tad angry. “Then what?” He raised an eyebrow. His lips were stuck in a grin.

“Then, once people accept that she does fool around with a man, especially New Orleans’ beloved radio host, they pay her and us properly, at least we hope so.”

They talked about details, and he thought… Fuck it. It wasn’t a lot of money, at least to him. Even if the plan failed, he would get the money back from the Red Magnolia, and it would bring him more attention.

“So, when can we expect you to decide?”

Alastor chuckled and offered his hand. “I’m in.” He never did anything like this, never acted so spontaneous, he always thought things like this through. But, a good deal is a good deal.

They shook hands, and while Mr.Devereux was working out the paperwork, Alastor decided to head down to the bar. The bar had three floors, the ground floor, where the stage was, around it the dancefloor along with tables with their seats, and of course the counter in the corner. The second and third floor were only balconies, the second had even more tables and sofas, it was more of a section where the guests could talk. The third was only used for the offices, no guests were allowed up there, there was barely any lighting even, only some oil lamps on the walls. The band was playing a soft tune, and people were dancing. His eyes got stuck on a couple. A girl with reddish hair and adorable freckles was resting her arms on the shoulders of, most-likely, her lover, a man with black curly hair. He recognized the lady, she sometimes played the piano right here in this very bar, her long and toned fingers telling the truth of her life’s passion. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the way they were looking into one another’s eyes, their sparkling gazes and soft grins told him everything he had to know. His eyes suddenly picked up a glint on the girl’s finger, a diamond ring. Now that he was looking at the young woman, he could see it. The very bottom of her abdomen was rounding up, her hips softer than usual and a light glow adorning her face.

In moments like this he wished he lived a normal life, a life where he could have fallen in love with a girl, marry her and eventually have a little one of his own. Maybe that way… he could have made his Ma prouder of him. However, he quickly snapped out of it. He didn’t care about all that, no woman could compete with the love he had for radio and the thrill of taking a human life. He wasn’t meant to settle down, or have a child, no.

He looked at everyone’s faces, but no one could see him, he couldn’t blame them, even he himself was struggling to see up there. However, as his eyes roamed around, they caught another pair. He felt his chest tighten for a second, his gaze caught another. Sleek updo and a pink dress. A young woman, who was sipping her cocktail and ignoring the seemingly cocky guy talking to her. She had the sweetest face he ever saw, shy smile and big doe eyes.

Suddenly, Mr.Devereux came up beside him, putting the papers in front of him. He was forced to rip his eyes away from her, so he could read through the contract. It took him quite some minutes to finish reading, he could feel her eyes still lingering on him. While he didn’t date, he enjoyed being around the ladies, they were either his dearest friends or his toys. Maybe this new little skylark could be useful to entertain him, until he gets bored, of course. Once finished, he saw how everything was written as they agreed on.

“So, are you satisfied?” Mr.Devereux asked, motioning to the contract. Alastor got his pen out of his breast pocket and just before making it official, he flashed his eyes again to the girl, who was just zoning out while wrapping her lips around a cigarette. Yes, a new toy is just what he needs. He spoke once he signed every paper.

“You’re damn right I am, Robert.”

───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───

taglist: @jyoongim @lovingyeet @adamwarlockislife-blog @that-dumb-bitch @midorichoco @alastorswifeee @sugurubabe @captainfia @alastorssimp @iheartalastor @speedycoffeedelight @1o-o1 @kimmis-stuff @qu1cks1lversb1tch @chibistar45 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @redfoxwritesstuff @fries11 @certifiedcrybabyyy @sirens-and-moonflowers @rapturenyx @visara-valentina

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 3)

Summary: Russell's returned and it appears that the reader's past employment problems are behind her. But when a shirtless Russell invites her into his home and their flirting rises to new levels, the reader will have to grapple with a new reality she doesn't know how to deal with. Russell Shaw might just be the first good guy after all...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, smidge of angst, fluff

A/N: That ending though 👀

__________

The sun was shining high when you woke, streams of light filtering in through the large windows. You hummed as you sat up, Colter typing away at his laptop outside. There was no sign of Russell though, a frown forming on your face.

He hadn’t left already, had he? He’d promised to tell you what happened back home.

You quickly changed in Colter’s bedroom into your joggers and AC/DC shirt, deciding to try Russell’s gifts out. The bra felt amazing, especially after wearing the same dirty one for a few days in a row. Even the lilac underwear was softer than you expected. 

Outside you shrugged on one of Russell’s flannel’s, pouting when you saw his car was gone and yours was in it’s place.

“Morning,” said Colter, nodding towards where a cup of coffee laid waiting for you next to your chair.

“Hey,” you said, taking it without sitting. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

“Not a problem. You haven’t been getting much lately.” You glanced around and noticed he was packed up for the most part, probably itching to get on the road. 

“You have a new case?” 

“Yeah. Oregon, not too far,” he said. He reached into his pocket, holding out your car keys. You wearily took them, Colter glancing over the top of your head. “I told him to stick around but he wanted to make sure it was ready for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, Colter shrugging.

“Apparently Russell has a place 45 minutes from here. Some cabin on a lake? I didn’t know he had a house. But uh, he hasn’t been there in awhile and he went on ahead to clean and stock up or something. He wants you to head up there so you can talk.”

“Oh. That’s…sweet.” You chugged back half your coffee, Colter eyeing you suspiciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Go have your talk.” You hummed, taking another sip. “You don’t owe him anything you know.”

“I know. We’re just friends.” Colter smirked. “You want to go down that road, Shaw? I can’t help but notice you and Reenie got that whole enemies to lovers vibe-”

“And that’s enough of that conversation,” he said, standing with a stretch. He reached into his pocket again, tossing you your phone. “Russell said it’s safe to carry again. Call if you ever need anything, Y/N.”

“Have I grown on you, Colter?” you teased. He rolled hie eyes as you handed him your empty mug. 

“Maybe. I’m working on the having friends thing.” 

“Well, you Shaw boys aren’t conventional but you’ve grown on me,” you said, opening your arms. “Come on. Let’s hug it out.”

“This is why I don’t do friends,” he half grumbled when he stepped into it, rubbing your back once more. “Hey and if you do think you want to try rewardist work, call me. We’ll talk, figure out a safe way for you to do this stuff.”

“What makes you think I won’t just go back home and do what I was before?” you asked. 

“Did you really want to do that crap again?” You frowned, shaking your head. He stepped back, pushing you towards the streamer. “That’s what I thought. Go pack. I’m sure Russell will be looking for you soon.”

One Hour Later

After leaving Colter with a promise to stay in touch, you arrived in a small town on the edges of a lake. It took a few minutes but your GPS eventually found the right road to head down. You had to question it when it told you that you’d arrived at your destination. The cabin Russell supposedly owned look more like a very expensive rustic mini-mansion some rich people would vacation to on the weekends.

Still, you pulled into the driveway and found Russell’s beat up car there. Cautiously you exited your car and went up the steps of the front porch, ringing the doorbell twice. A large wood door whipped open and you’d gotten your wish.

There was Russell before you. Damp hair slicked back, a few water droplets trailing down his broad chest and disappearing into the waist band of his navy sweatpants. You could see his tattoos scattered across his arm, a few on his wrist and thumbs and good god, how long had you been ogling his body?

Your head snapped up, Russell cockily leaning with one arm up against the doorframe wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Oh, please. Look all you want, babe.” You huffed and stormed past him, fighting the urge to turn around and see what his ass looked like in this skinny little joggers he had on. Nope. You had more self-control than that.

“You wish,” you said, surprised at the mixture of modern and rustic touches inside. “So you squatting here, Shaw?”

“I wish,” he chuckled, walking past you into the kitchen area, the smell of sandalwood and vanilla luring you to follow after. “I picked this place up after I got out of the military for cheap. Been renovating it room by room for the past decade.”

“Marble countertops?” you asked, rattling your knuckles against the white and silver veined surface. Russell leaned against the island, his biceps flexing with the movement. “I thought you said you aren’t made of money.”

“Maybe I want you to like me for me and not my wallet,” he said, looking at you through his eyelashes. “You know how much that visit to that little boutique set me back?”

“Oh, I think you can afford it,” you said, smiling as you slipped behind him, ruffling his damp strands. “Next time you want to buy me lingerie, just be a big boy and say so.”

“Here I was being thoughtful with no ulterior motives,” he said, standing and putting a hand to his chest. He frowned, closing his eyes in feigned pain. “I’m hurt, Y/N.”

“You can be thoughtful and at the same time admit you’d like to see what your choices look like.” He dropped his hand smiled.

“I really did buy them without expecting anything. I was there and thought a girl like you deserves something nice in her fucked up life.”

“I know, Russell,” you said quietly, offering him a smile. “I honestly do appreciate it.”

He nodded before going to his fridge and taking out a pair of waters, setting one on the counter near you. “You’re welcome. And if you were ever so inclined to want to show off my fashion choices, I suppose I could suffer through.”

“You’d really take that hit for the team wouldn’t you,” you teased. He hummed, crossing his arms.

“It’s a heavy burden but one I’m willing to bear.” You rolled your eyes and laughed quietly, slipping away before you got any closer to a half-naked Russell. 

You pretended to meander around the house, enjoying the openness compared to Colter’s airstreamer. A large fireplace sat in the corner and you could see through the glass doors to the back covered porch that another sat out there as well. 

“I made up the guest room.” You spun around, Russell pointing down a hallway. “Fresh sheets. Towels. I thought maybe you’d want to take a real shower and relax before you decide your next move.”

“Next move, huh.” You crossed your arms, looking out the back windows as dark clouds rolled in over the lake. “That your subtle way of saying I can’t go back home?”

Russell’s smile fell, quickly replaced with a neutral non-chalence you saw right through. He padded across the hardwoods over to your side, watching the clouds with you.

“I meant what I said last night. You’re safe. No one, and I mean no one, will ever come after you again. Go freshen up and we’ll talk after. I promise.”

“Fine. But only because Colter’s shower sucks.” You knew Russell was holding back something but you’d let it slide for the moment. A hot, long shower sounded amazing.

Forty minutes later you exited the guest suite with freshly washed hair, smooth legs and clean clothes. Alright, maybe they were Russell’s clothes he’d laid out on the bed for you but you weren’t complaining. 

“How was it?” he asked when you found him on the covered back porch, a hard rain coming down.

“I hate to sound like a girl but that was so much nicer than your brother’s tiny ass shower stall,” you said, enjoying the cool air on your flush skin. Russell refrained from saying anything about the black Stones shirt you had put on or the way you were drowning in his sweatpants. You ran your fingers through your hair, Russell watching you try to tame the mess it’d become. “You didn’t happen to pick up any hair ties or scrunchies when you clearly went to the store and got me stuff, did you?”

He reached into his pocket with a smile and a dark green scrunchie appeared on his wrist, your eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

“I’m smarter than I look,” he said. You nearly asked for it when you decided to turn around, presenting your back to him.

“Can you handle a messy bun?” you asked. A spark rang down your spine as he gathered up your hair on top of your head, gently pulling it together and securing it. You patted it when he finished, Russell taking a bow to an imaginary crowd. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head. “Okay, how the hell do you know how to do that?”

“I could tell you but I’d have to kill you.” You rolled your eyes. “I learned it at special ops school.”

“Russ.” He laughed, taking a seat on the outdoor couch, arm over the back of it.

“I have a kid sister. I used to do her hair and shit when she was little.” You grinned, Russell holding up a finger.

“Don’t. Say-”

“Aw. What a good big brother you are,” you teased, sitting down next to him. Russell’s eyes glinted with a retort but he settled for letting his fingertips dance over your bare neck. Your breath hitched, Russell, cocking his head. “I can’t concentrate on what we need to talk about if you’re going to keep doing that.”

“Does that mean you don’t like it?” he asked, his body inviting you to tuck itself in right under that open arm. He grazed his fingers oh so lightly over your neck again and fuck, you wished he’d just grab hold and smash your lips to his already.

“You think just cause you’re sweet and thoughtful and hot and save a girl, you’ll win her over with your horrible flirting, just like that?” He leaned in close, so close you felt the heat radiating off his breath.

“I already won and she knows it. She just likes making me chase her.” You shivered when he thumbed over the back of your neck, a cocky smile on his face. “And she is a woman worth chasing so I will as long as she wants me to.”

You leaned in just when he pulled away and stood up, taking a seat in the chair opposite you with a big, stupid, cocky as fuck, smile on his face. 

“Fucker,” you growled. Russell only smiled harder. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Oh, I pray I do,” he said, putting his hands behind his head, licking his lips. Your eye twitched, Russell chuckling deeply. “That’s my little queen of darkness I adore.”

“We will continue this conversation later,” you said, cutting him off. Russell nodded, taking the zip up from nearby and unfortunately tugging it on over his bare chest.

“So,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets, taking a deep breath. “You want to know what happened after you left.”

“That’d be nice, yes.” Russell pursed his lips, turning his head towards the downpour. “Russell. Come on.”

“I know you want details but I’m sorry, that’s not happening.” Your jaw dropped as he held up his hands. “You have had enough violence and death in your life. Now, I will answer your questions but I will use my discretion. You do not need…you don’t need that crap anymore. Please.”

Russell dropped his hand, leaning his elbows against his knees. When he looked up, his green eyes were somber and your heart did that flipping thing again.

“Are they all dead? The whole crew?” you asked quietly. He nodded. “That was like twenty five guys.”

“...Technically, they killed each other off. That’s why you didn’t hear about it in the news. Police are keeping it quiet.” 

“How…you tricked them?” you asked. He nodded again. “You’re sure all of them-”

“Every last one. Sides were drawn. Elpine and some of his crew got involved too, killed in the crossfire. There’s no mafia left there. No one will ever look for you again if you decide to go back.”

“If?” you asked. Russell shrugged.

“You were forced to do a job you didn’t want. You don’t want to patch up scummy guys off the street. You get to live the life you want to now. You can do that back in Virginia…or you can do a clean slate. Start over somewhere new.”

“You mean here. Stay here with you,” you said. You stood up, going to the railing, a cold breeze hitting you.

“This is a safe place and you can take as long as you need to figure out what you want to do.” You felt him behind you, his hands settling on your arms. “I have enough. I don’t want to be a private contractor forever. I am more than happy to walk away and start fresh myself.”

“Russell, you are asking a lot.”

“No I’m not.” You frowned, closing your eyes. “Despite…I’m not asking you to pick me. I’m not that crazy. I know we’re still figuring each other out. I’m asking you to pick yourself. I’m asking you to trust now that I am not like those people you worked with. You never have to pick me if that’s what you want and there are no stings attached. Ever. Just don’t go back there. Start over somewhere where life will be kind to you.”

He rubbed your arms once before you felt him move away. You glanced back over your shoulder, Russell going to the fireplace and squatting down in front of it. A moment later, flames appeared and he was tossing a few logs from nearby inside.

“Russell.” He hummed, adjusting a large log with a sharp poker. He kept his back to you for a long beat, slowly rising and setting the poker aside. When he finally looked at you, his face was neutral, void of any signs of how he actually felt. You fidgeted, tugging down the hem of your shirt awkwardly. “Put aside the flirting. You and me…it’s not going to work out.”

“You’re sure about that, are you?” You scoffed, Russell holding up his hands. 

You stormed over to him, stabbing a finger in his firm chest. “I am not whatever you think I am. I’m not a damsel looking for her white knight to come save her. I didn’t ask you to take care of my problem. You decided to do that, not me. I don’t owe you anything.”

He slowly blinked, staring down with the tiniest hint of a smirk. 

“Why are you always fucking smiling?” you growled. 

“Well if you’re going to be the grumpy then I got to be the sunshine.”

“We’re not a fucking trope! I-I don’t need you. I don’t need you to buy me things. Or do things for me. Or offer to let me stay in this beautiful house. I’ve spent my whole life alone. There is no such thing as a good guy. All you want is in my fucking pants so let’s just fuck and get this fucking thing over with so I can go the fuck home.”

Russell’s eyebrows raised. He nodded, crossing his arms. “I’m not fucking you.”

“What? That’s…you’ve been flirting the second we met!” 

“Oh, we’re past the hookup stage. We do this, it’s cause we’re the real deal.”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, going inside, pacing back and forth in the family room. To your extreme annoyance, Russell didn’t follow you. He just sat out there next to his fireplace, watching the rain come down. He really wasn’t going to talk to you about this? He was going to ignore you?

You huffed, wandering throughout the house and finding it frustratingly gorgeous. While it certainly leaned masculine as did most rustic style homes single men lived it, it felt…cozy. There was a warmth to it, even in the large expanses, that you hadn’t felt since you were a child. It was built almost like a retreat, Russell’s safe place away from the world.

You sat down on the top set of the stairs, frowning with your head in your hands.

Was there such a thing as a good guy? No, Russell wanted you for sex. A quick fuck. Maybe a fuck buddy at most but that was it. Right? He was a single man in his forties. Ex-military and he still did contracted black ops work. He was a trained killer. A deadly weapon hidden under a boyish smile and pretty face. There was no way he was a good guy that actually wanted a normal life.

“Do you always talk to yourself?” Your head snapped up, Russell giving you an awkward little wave from the landing a few feet away. You groaned, wiping your face off when you felt the trickle of tears on your cheeks. Russell stepped up and stopped, sitting down a few steps below you, close enough to reach out and grab your hand. 

“I should go,” you said. Russell simply held out his open palm, your own hands now held in your lap.

“Whether I’m good or bad, I’ll leave that up to somebody else to decide. I don’t live my life in the black and white. But I can tell you if I only wanted to screw you, I would never have invited you to my home.” You stared down at your lap, closing your eyes when his callused thumb wiped under your eye, pushing away a rogue tear. “You ain’t a damsel. You’re my queen of darkness, remember?”

Your lip twitched up briefly, Russell letting out some satisfied little sound.

“I meant what I said earlier. Stay. Rest. Figure out your next move on your own time. If me being here complicates that, I can duck out.”

“No.” You grasped his wrist, flicking open your eyes. His palm felt so hot to the touch, your heart skipping when he grazed your skin. “Stay here.”

“Okay then,” he said. He stood, leaning over and kissing your forehead. Then he was moving down the steps, whistling a peppy tune. “I’m going to make us some grilled cheese and tomato soup. Love me some grilled cheese.”

“Wait!” you called, following him down the stairs. Russell spun around at the bottom, smiling up at you. “Why…I…I-I don’t understand. You’re really just going to let me stay here? Without committing to anything?”

His face fell, brow furrowing. “You’re really starting to scare me, Y/N. When’s the last time there was someone decent in your life?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” you said quietly. “The idea of someone like you being so kind crosses a lot of wires in my head.”

“That’s why you keep freaking out when I’m not a dick and give you space.” You nodded, fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt again. He smiled, reaching up, offering his hand again. You let yours slip into it, Russell lacing your fingers together. “Well, I ain’t like other men, sweetheart. I promise you that.”

“Why me?” you asked, taking a step down, putting you at eye level with him. “I mean, why wouldn’t you want someone normal?”

“A normal girl sounds boring. Now queen of darkness? That sounds like a woman that’s badass enough to put up with me. Let’s stop freaking out, go make lunch, and let me try to help you what you want to do, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect.” He pecked a kiss on your cheek, pulling you along after him. “So. Has a man ever cooked for you?”

You shook your head, Russell frowning. You yelped when he picked you up and sat you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with his muscular arms on either side.

“Alright then Y/N Y/L/N. I’m about to make you the best goddamn lunch of your life.” Before he could move, you wrapped your legs tight around his waist, keeping him so, so close. Russell’s gaze turned heated, eyes darkening. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you breathed out, Russell leaning in close.

“Don’t take me unless you plan on keeping me. Based on our previous conversation, we are not there.” Slowly, you unhooked your legs, Russell straightening, looking you up and down, eyes no less dark.

“Russ?” He stared at you, licking his lips.

“Fuck it.”

And then he slammed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away in the goddamn best kiss of your life.

_________

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Hi!! Can I request jealous Jordan li where reader is spending a lot of time with someone else, maybe for a school project or something and Jordan notices and is like, nope, not happening, this one's mine bc they're so in love with reader and want all of the attention

Whew, that was a lot, haha,

Thank you!!!!

*not sure if u want established partners or situationship w feelings or something else, but i think imma go with situationship bc thats always the vibe for jordan lol if u want more established relationship lmk*

Debate club was a sensible extracurricular, and you had been doing it since your school stopped having model UN in 9th grade. It wasn't your favorite thing in the world, but you liked to argue, so it worked out. This week, you were arguing the "for" case with your teammate for the semester, Blake Mathers. He's a grating sophomore with floppy hair, and telekinesis powers you've only seen him use to enable his own laziness. The head of the club was nice enough, but he was insistent on "teamwork" when you'd much rather write alone. It was exhausting, trying to filter your thoughts and opinions, and allowing others to shine was not your style.

You try to pay attention to what Blake was saying about the topic, but all you were thinking about was Jordan Li. Ever since you made out at one of Dusty's infamous parties, they had invaded your senses and your thoughts. They'd catch you staring during class, or you'd wear a tiny skirt to a party, and you'd end up in a closet, or a car, or a bedroom, all limbs and heavy breathing.

"Um, hello? Did you hear me?" You shake your head.

"Sorry. Say that again?"

"The argument we wrote yesterday. It's gone - my computer got fucked." Ah, crap. This is the second time Blake's stupidity has made you re-do work. You'd done some research at the start of the week, and he'd forgotten to mention the topic had been changed. You sigh.

"Well, fuck. Alright, let's go back to the library then." You turn around and start walking, trying not to show your disappointment. You'd been hoping to "run into" Jordan at the JitterBean - hence the tight-ass skinny jeans.

Waste of an outfit, you think bitterly, pushing open the glass doors and setting up at the table that you and Blake had been using to do your assignments. Thankfully you'd saved your notes from yesterday, so you began reconstructing your argument while Blake screwed off.

You weren't paying much attention to what he was doing until you saw him fucking with Justine. Now there's some bullying you can get behind. You giggle, and watch as he makes another paper airplane fly around her head. She glares over at him and storms out, which makes you laugh out loud. The librarian glares, and you exchange a guilty look with Blake before getting back into writing.

The afternoon goes by easily after that. You were vaguely aware of other students milling about or studying nearby, but you were in the zone. Finally, at almost 8, the argument was done, and you saved it in multiple places just in case.

You wave goodbye to Blake, happy that the session went reasonably ok and the work was done. Saturday's debate was going to be a blast.

"Have fun on your little date with Mathers?" Jordan was leaning against the outside wall of the library, expression unreadable.

"Is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?" Their eyes harden slightly.

"Not jealous, just lookin out for you. He's a moron." They begin walking beside you, not acknowledging how unhinged they were behaving. Just looking out for you? If they weren't so damn hot, you might slap them. But the fact that they were asking meant.... something, right? You ignored how that made your heart swoop and just kept walking.

"We have debate club together, and he keeps fucking shit up, that's all." You say, in spite of yourself. If you were smarter, you'd let them wonder what you were doing with him. But you couldn't keep from looking at them, and feeling disappointed you can't make out any relief in their eyes. But then, their arm is snaked around your waist and their lips are at your ear.

"You wear those skin fucking tight jeans to just study with him?" You grit your teeth, forcing your mouth to not say what you wanted so desperately to say: 'No, I wore them for you, and you're clearly the idiot if you can't tell that I am so wrapped around your finger that I will dress up just in case I see you.' and just roll your eyes instead. They let their hand slide from your waist to your back pocket, daring you to stop them. And of course you don't. With every inch their hand travels, your heart skips another beat. When they squeeze your ass ever so slightly, a whimper sneaks out before you can stop it.

And with that, you're being pressed against a tree and their lips are on your neck.

"Fuck, J." You curse as their teeth sink into your skin.

"You're mine, baby. Only mine." They murmur in your ear.

"Always have been." You say back, almost moaning as they continue their assault on your neck. They pull away at this.

"Yeah? That why you're spending all your time with Mathers and co instead of me, in such," They pause to run their hands on your hips, pulling you tight against them. "delicious clothes."

"I thought you weren't jealous." You murmur, sliding your hand up their back. "But I wore these, and what's underneath, for you and you alone. He's just a moron who's forced me to re-do my work twice this week alone."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me take you up and make everyone hear who really owns you." You barely hold back a moan as they drag you up to your dorm to fulfill their promise.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse

Eddie became an accidental millionaire, coming up with creative content for a video game for his techy best bud Dustin. It's great at first… but not his dream. He winds up living in a hotel room, depressed he let his music hopes slip.

Steve, meanwhile, works in the hotel, and is desperately in debt for medical bills. When his boss asks him to get a male hooker for the ‘freak in the penthouse,' he can’t really let the ‘chance’ pass. After all, the 'freak' didn't look so bad to him, and he's done this kind of thing before when he had to...

Set in the early 90s with some period-typical homophobia. Shamelessly trope-y! This will probably go up to ‘E’ rated next chapter, but ‘M’ for now as this chapter isn’t too spicy yet ;)

also here on AO3 or search the tumblr tag #thefreakinthepenthouse

Chapter one: the freak

Eddie lingered in that warm, fuzzy twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. He didn’t want to wake up.

His dream—at least, the parts of it trickling back to him—had been hot, hot, hot. He’d been killing it live to an insane sell-out crowd at the Hollywood Bowl and…

…what the hell?

More of Eddie’s dream filtered back. The part which explained his epic boner. He’d not been thrashing out a nine-minute-long power ballad. On that dream-stage, in front of that sell-out crowd, he’d been fucking a deadly hot, deadly cute guy.

Holy shit! That’s almost as unbelievable as anybody paying to come see me play.

He began to wake up for real. A keening sound escaped his throat. On the other hand, the joys of the night hadn’t quite evaporated.

Possibly because he’d gotten his nose buried in a mass of slightly sticky hair. 

He was spooning ANOTHER GUY.

The reality of last night rushed back. Every muscle in Eddie’s body locked up. Wow, wow, wow! And also, Shiiiiiit! 

Steve. That was the guy’s name. Eddie rubbed his nose in the nape of Steve’s neck, inhaling cheap hair gel.

Steve had been good. He’d kissed like a demon and offered up that to-die-for ass like a fallen angel. Eddie recalled rutting deep into Steve’s tight, pulsating body, till sweat stung his eyes. Yup, pure carnal pleasure was a decent distraction from being rich beyond your wildest dreams and too miserable as fuck to enjoy it.

On the flip-side, Eddie had few gripes about life at this particular moment. Slowly, careful not to wake Steve, Eddie crawled an arm over him, wandering fingers through the tangle of hair on Steve’s chest.

Bleeeeeep.

Steve cried, “Wha—?” and sat bolt upright, whacking Eddie’s arm out of the way. He blinked around, raking soft curls from his eyes. Damn. Steve was even cuter with his hair all natural, no longer slicked back.

Steve glanced at his watch and silenced the bleeps. “Crap! I’m on shift for breakfast. Gotta go.”

Steve was rushing around the room already, butt naked. Eddie sighed longingly at Steve’s ass. When Steve yanked some dark blue uniform pants from his knapsack and pulled them on, Eddie sighed even harder.

His focus drifted to the enormous clock-face painted directly onto the hideous pink paisley walls. 

“It’s 6 o’clock? In the morning?” He flipped his lank-feeling hair from his brow. “Uuuuugh. I’d forgotten there were two 6 o’clocks in the day.”

“Some of us have gotta earn a living.” Steve shoved his arms into a not particularly well-pressed white shirt then fiddled with the buttons at his throat. “Talking of which… Can I have my two-hundred bucks, please?”

…

Twelve hours earlier

“Got a job for you, Harrington,” said Kline, head concierge at the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. “Try not to mess this one up.”

Steve looked up from where he was emptying ashtrays into the trash. His least-loved superior drew close and dropped his usually bark-like voice to an undertone:

“Freak in the penthouse wants a hooker. Tonight. 8pm sharp.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve humoured Kline, answering in an equally conspiratorial tone. “Do I call the usual agency?”

“Hell, no. Freaks a freak! Wants a guy. Goddamn dirty queer.” Steve was still tipping ashtrays—best to always look busy when this sleazebag was around. Unfortunately, this meant Kline stuffed a note into the waistband of Steve’s pants, forcing Steve to suppress a shudder. “Deirdre gave me some numbers to call around. Whatever the dirty dogs quote, triple the number—no, quadruple it—before you tell the freak. We can turn a fat profit here. Reckon you can handle that? Or will the figures be too much for that air-brain little head of yours?”

After Kline departed, Steve pulled out the crumpled note. He stared at the numbers and chewed his lip. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Could he really afford to pass this over?

He wasn’t allowed to wait tables in the silver-service grill anymore—he’d gotten one too many table orders muddled up. He was really feeling the pinch without those tips.

And the ‘freak’ had to be richer than God.

Dude had been shacked up in the penthouse for nearly three weeks now. That place cost over a thousand bucks a night. On the couple of occasions Steve had taken up room service, the guy had lurked in the gloom and behind a curtain of rocker hair. A pale hand with long, slender fingers offered out a ten-dollar bill.

He had to be a rockstar, right? Thought nobody had figured out what band he was in, and guys like that only buried themselves away to drink too much, do drugs, trash stuff, and… fuck whores.

Steve crumpled Kline’s note in his fist and resigned himself to it.  His medication had doubled in price this year, and he was reduced to sleeping in one of the hotel linen closets.

An extra hundred dollars or so would help a lot.

…

Eddie wished he hadn’t answered the phone. It was goddamn Dustin, berating him as ever:

“Eddie! Do I have to stick a firework up your butt or something? Suzie and I have got all the gameplay coding sorted for ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest II’ ready to rock and roll. All we want is for you to sprinkle your magic over the creative content, and we’ll be home and dry for another monster hit.”

“There’s the rub, Henderson. I’m not feeling wildly creative right now.”

“Then get out of that doily-saturated dumpster! Travel! Meet people! Honestly, what was the point of becoming a millionaire at twenty-four if you can’t enjoy yourself. If you’re still cut up about your music, then hire yourself another studio and—”

“You need to get off my back. After your hour-long lecture about how I needed to get laid, I went and did something stupid and now—”

“You did get a date?”

“No, I… Look, this is really not a good time, Henderson.” 

Eddie hung up. 

He instantly felt bad. Jesus, he spent his whole life feeling bad about something these days. 

He knew Dustin meant well. In his own arrogant-little-shit kinda way. Eddie probably should take his advice, go to a club, meet guys he’d like to date, and he would. If the thought of simply leaving the hotel didn’t shred his nerves ragged.

And there was no way he could tell Dustin he’d gone and ordered a rent boy on room service. After a couple of way-too-early-in-the-day shots of vodka, it’d seemed like a good idea. 

Not anymore.

Eddie picked up one of his many guitars, which lay propped alongside the ornate couch. He struck a miserably dissonant chord. The shady guy who’d sold it claimed it’d once belonged to Hendrix. Eddie hadn’t really fallen for that shit then paid a dumb price for it anyhow. On the off-chance it’d inspire some of that metal magic he’d let slip.

“Magic, Munson? You always sucked balls and you know it.”

Jesus, he was talking to himself now, and he knew he was wallowing. These past three weeks, it was all he’d done. Worse, he knew he was an ungrateful dick, not appreciating the journey he’d made from his uncle’s trailer to this.

Which made him hate himself even more.

He tossed the guitar down on the couch—would’ve smashed it, if not for just the teeniest chance Jimi did once deign to touch it. Instead, he punched one of the penthouse’s many fake-marble pillars, then whimpered, blowing on his damaged knuckles.

He was about to call down for ice—and to cancel his ‘date’—when the knock sounded at the door. He considered ignoring it. Then he noticed the time.

8pm.

Rent-boy o’clock.

He’d not realised the day had slid away so fast. It sure as heck dragged till now. He was still considering ignoring the knock, when it came again.

“Mister Munson?”

Eddie dithered a moment longer then went to the grand double doors and opened one a crack. 

His jaw dropped.

The guy waiting on his doormat was good-looking, for sure. Striking was the word that sprung next into Eddie’s mind. His slicked back hair was a touch too yuppy-frat-boy for Eddie’s taste. Eddie totally dug his eyeliner, though, which set off big chocolate eyes to perfection. A vest top revealed leanly muscled arms and was also cropped at his midriff to display a swatch of trim, lick-able flesh, intersected by a trail of wispy hair. His ripped jeans were so tight they might’ve been spray-painted on, and…

…he was also slightly familiar. Eddie was so busy gawking, he genuinely jumped when the guy spoke again.

“Hey. I’m Steve. You, uh, asked for—”

“Look, I was gonna call down and cancel. This was a friend’s idea.”  Yeah, blame Henderson, you snivelling coward. “I changed my mind, okay?”

“Oh.” Steve��s shoulders slumped, although something shifted in his eyes that might’ve been relief. “I’ll be off then… Oh hey, are you okay? What happened to your hand?”

Eddie had made the mistake of pinching the bridge of his nose with his puffy red fingers. “Oh, I’m fine. I whacked myself.”

“You want me to get you some ice?”

“Uuuuuh, hookers can do that?”

Steve winced slightly. “I actually work in the hotel. I mean, as a day job. Breakfast buffet, elevator, room service, odd jobs, that kinda thing.”

“Right.” That raised more questions that it answered. Eddie opted not to pry. “Thought you looked familiar. You look different out of—”

“Out of the shitty bellboy outfit?” Steve rolled those way too pretty eyes, and dumped a bulging knapsack by the doors. “I’ll grab that ice.”

…

Steve dashed to the nearest ice-dispenser, grabbed a first-aid kit too. He rushed back to the penthouse. His heart raced, and he felt kinda flushed, despite the arctic setting on the air con.

Up close, the ‘freak’ was pretty good-looking, if slightly Goth-y and pale. And Steve had to get out of the nasty-ass habit of thinking of him as ‘the freak.’ Now he’d gotten face-to-face with the guy, it seemed mean and douchy.

One of the doors was ajar when he returned. Eddie sat on one of several luxuriant couches, his head in his hands. The place smelled faintly of weed, but nothing worse. Steve coughed, cleared his throat: “Got the ice, Mister Munson, Sir.”

“Jesus, none of that shit. It’s Eddie.”

“Wow. My favourite name.”

Eddie snorted. “Horseshit.”

Steve wrapped some ice chips in a napkin, sat down beside Eddie, who downed a glass of clear liquid that Steve suspected was vodka. Then, hesitantly, Eddie stretched out an elegant, long-fingered hand. Steve took it one of his and pressed the ice to Eddie’s swollen knuckles. Eddie appeared reluctant to look him in the eye, which made Steve feel dead awkward too.

He noticed a massive crack in one of the pillars. Had to be recent. Plaster dust sprinkled the otherwise immaculate Persian carpet beneath.

“You wanna talk about it?” he said, returning his attention to Eddie’s hand. “Did you have an argument with your girlf… boyfriend.”

“Ain’t got no one, brother. Went and ordered you, didn’t I?”

Steve felt like he’d been slapped. Yeah, he’d been ordered on room service, like a platter of meat. Okay, he’d kinda chosen this but… Choices, real choices, had been out of his league for what felt like forever.

He gritted his teeth. “You want me to bandage this, or should I just leave?”

That got Eddie looking up sharply. “Leave?”

“You said you were gonna cancel? Not in the groove for booty calls, huh?”

Steve watched Eddie’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He tugged his hand away from Steve, picked up the glass with tips of those delicious fingers and offered it to Steve. “Changed my mind. Drink?”

“I feel I should pour, right?” said Steve, nerves fizzing.

Eddie was finally looking at him again, eyes narrowed to simmering slits: “If you like.”

...

anyone here for this? <3 likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

Chapter 2 on tumblr

Chapter 2 on AO3

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I can also tag if anybody is interested... please let me know.

zero pressure and one-off tag @sidekick-hero who kindly asked about this one in the WIP tag game and just got a surprised blurble as I'd not typed anything up then...

[bornonthesavage]

We'll Make Heaven a Place on Earth

(A Steddie San Junipero AU)

It felt like magic, the first time Eddie saw him. This whole world did, really. When Eddie had opened his eyes, his very first thought had been that the colors seemed too bright. A myriad of light and saturation that only really existed in movies and memories. Which, yeah, this all sort of felt like walking through a memory. The real world was so much dimmer. Although, that could just be his failing eyesight. Maybe he’d forgotten what the world looked like, when his eyes were young and filled with wonder. Or maybe whoever had created this place decided to put on a shiny filter to hide all the flaws.

The lack of pain might have also been a contributing factor. The last thirty years of Eddie’s life had been accompanied by increasingly worsening back and joint pain. That was all gone here. His body felt as good as new as he walked down the main street, and when he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a shop window, he had to stop and stare. God, he’d forgotten how young he’d looked when he was twenty. Not a single grey hair or wrinkle in sight.

For his first time in Lock Nora, Eddie had decided the eighties were the place to be. Those had been some of his best years, followed closely by the nineties. ’88 had been when Corroded Coffin first took off, when his life had changed forever. And Jesus, whoever designed this place had gotten it right. Down to the cars that passed on the street and the clothes people wore, it was the eighties. Eddie wasn’t ashamed to say that he shed a few tears. He’d been so sure that he would never see this again.

Youth wasn’t something you could experience more than once, or at least that had been the case up until about ten years ago. Technology had changed all that. When he’d first heard about it, Eddie hadn’t thought it could be real. It must be an illusion. And yet here he was, walking down a street filled with shops and people and laughter. Everything seemed so real, and in many ways it was.

There was so much to do, with shops and restaurants and a beach. But Eddie found himself drawn in by the sound of music pumping out of a nearby club, a neon lit sign overhead declaring a place called The Arcade. Eddie slipped inside, sticking to the walls, and watching as throngs of people danced and drank and sang. Madonna was playing, not Eddie’s favorite, but it was better than that new age crap he heard on the radio nowadays.

Eddie hadn’t been to a club in, oh, twenty-five years at least. He remembered it, the last time he walked into a place like this. He’d felt so out of place, surrounded by people half his age while music he’d never heard blasted from the stereo system. Something that had once brought him such joy and comfort had morphed into something unrecognizable. Eddie had gone home alone that night and vowed to never go back.

He hadn’t accounted for this. Everyone looked to be around the same age, bright and happy and in their prime. It almost felt like the first time all over again. Only back then, he’d been a scared nineteen-year-old kid sneaking into a queer club for the first time with a fake ID and no idea what he was doing. It had been dangerous, but also a little thrilling. There was no danger here. Nobody cared who you slept with anymore. It almost felt too good to be true; the fact that he could be young and openly himself.

Eddie sidled up to the bar and caught the eye of the bartender. Idly, he wondered if they were real or another feature of the programming. Did someone pay people from the outside to come here and work?

“What can I get you?” the bartender shouted over the music.

“Just a beer, thanks.” It felt a little silly to drink alcohol here, considering he couldn’t get drunk. That wouldn’t come unless he decided to become a full-time resident.

Once he had his drink in hand, he turned to watch the crowd of dancers. He wondered if he could request the DJ to play something a little more his speed. Or maybe there was another club nearby that catered to people with a taste for metal. It would be nice to dance again, to get lost in the pulsing heat of a crowd as he let his body flow with the beat. Fuck, he missed it.

It was then, as he looked across the dance floor, that Eddie saw him. The first thought Eddie had was that he couldn’t be real. He had to be a part of the simulation, something to make others want to stay in this place. Because the other man was far too beautiful to be real. Light brown hair fell around his face, combed to perfection. His head was tilted back, showing off a few moles that dotted the perfect line of his neck, and he wore a smile of pure bliss. Like he’d never been anywhere better than this too crowded club with questionable music. Eddie couldn’t see his eye color from that distance, but they were probably just as pretty as the rest of him.

Apparently, Eddie wasn’t the only one enjoying the view, as a woman slid up in front of the beautiful stranger and began to dance with him. Eddie watched as she leaned in to say something directly into his ear, making the man laugh. They moved together, with her hands on his shoulders and his on her waist. There was something hesitant about his movements, as though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. Which was ridiculous. Someone as beautiful as this man surely had plenty of experience with dancing with a partner. But maybe it had been as long of a time for him as it had been for Eddie. The thought made Eddie smile.

As the song was winding to an end, something unexpected happened. The beautiful stranger shifted so he was facing Eddie, and as the woman spun away from him, he looked up and met Eddie’s eye from across the room. Something sharp and fizzy zapped down Eddie’s spine, making all the little hairs along his arms and neck stand on end. It was as if there was an electric current connecting their gaze. Eddie sucked in a breath and watched as the other mans eyes went a little wide. Pretty lips fell open, and Eddie wasn’t sure if it was just him, but it seemed like the other man froze for all of a couple seconds.

It was the strangest sensation. As if something inside him was screaming “I know you! We’ve never met, but my soul knows your soul. Hello, again.” It was a ridiculous thought; one made up of naiveté and fanciful dreams. Eddie didn’t believe in fate or soul mates or any of that shit. Decades in the music industry and thousands of lonely nights had shown him that those things didn’t exist. But it seemed that his heart and his brain weren’t on the same page, given the sudden pitter patter of his heartbeat.

The moment could have lasted for half a second or half a year, Eddie couldn’t say which. When the other man turned his eyes away and broke contact, it felt like a physical loss. Eddie sucked in a breath, realizing he must have stopped breathing for however long that had gone on.

As the song ended, the other man extracted himself from the woman, saying something in her ear before pulling away. Eddie watched as he moved across the dance floor and slipped out a door near the back of the building. He wanted to follow, to chase him down and ask if he had felt it too. Surely, he had. Unless Eddie was going crazy, which, maybe. It was bound to happen eventually. Could someone go crazy in Loch Nora? They hadn’t mentioned in the brochure.

Yet no matter how much he wanted to move, he was rooted to the spot. It wasn’t until someone bumped into him from the side, making him stumble, that he came back to himself. He blinked a few times before pushing off from the bar and sliding his way through the crowd. The back door led to an alley, and when Eddie looked around, he found it empty. The beautiful stranger was gone.

Eddie tamped down his disappointment. There was no reason for him to feel that way about someone he’d never even spoken to. He’d seen countless pretty faces in his day. Hell, he’d taken more than a few home. This was no different. At least, that’s what he told himself as he walked out onto the main street. And it wasn’t like he’d lost his chance forever. He could come back in a few days, and maybe then he wouldn’t freeze like a moron.

 …

The second time Eddie opened his eyes in Lock Nora, he had a mission. He would never admit it, but for the last three days, he hadn’t been able to get the beautiful stranger out of his head. It was silly, really. He’d likely imagined the connection across the dance floor. He’d been excited and hyped on the feeling of youth, so of course his brain had picked up on one pretty face and decided it must mean something.

Yet no matter how many times he told himself it meant nothing, Eddie couldn’t get the image of his face out of his head. Hell, he’d even dreamed of him. So as Eddie walked down Main Street, it was with the determination that he would find him.

The Arcade was the first place he checked. Eddie stood near the bar and scanned the crowd, looking for that perfect hair among the throngs of people. It only took a few minutes to conclude that he wasn’t there. A couple of people tried to buy Eddie a drink, but he turned each of them down. Next, he tried the various shops and restaurants that lined the main street, but that too turned up nothing.

It took way longer than he would have liked for him to search the mall and attached movie theater. At one point he even thought he saw him, but one look at their face was enough to know it wasn’t him. The pier, the park, and the pool party also turned out fruitless. By the time he admitted defeat, the night was nearly over.

Eddie ended up on the beach, walking the long stretch of sand that seemed to stretch on forever. Hell, maybe it did. Maybe he could just keep walking and never find an end. The thought gave Eddie the heebie jeebies. He kicked a rock, watching as it landed in the water with a splash. Maybe the night didn’t have to be a total loss. It had been years since he’d gone for a swim, and even longer since he’d waded into the water.

He was still contemplating the idea when a lone figure caught his eye. They were about fifty feet away, seated in the sand and looking out to the horizon. Eddie’s heart skipped and skittered against his chest bone. It was him. Even at the distance, he recognized the strong nose and jaw line of the beautiful stranger.

Nerves immediately spiked through Eddie’s body. What was he supposed to do now? He honestly hadn’t gotten this far in his plan. If he’d met him in the club, he could have slid up beside him and asked for a dance. But out here, where they were all alone? Yeah, Eddie sort of felt like a creep. What was he supposed to say? Hey, I saw you from across the room a few days ago and now I’ve been searching everywhere to find you again. Shit, what was he doing?

He took a deep breath, and then began to walk closer. He was only around fifteen feet away when the beautiful stranger looked up, meeting Eddie’s eye. Something that looked like surprise flickered across his face before he turned his eyes back to the water.

“Uh, hi,” Eddie said, stopping a respectable distance from him. Wow, yeah, what a great opener.

Pretty brown eyes flicked up to his face, then away again, as if he was shy. Fuck, he was cute. “Hello.”

“Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but would you mind if I sat here with you?”

The stranger wrapped his arms around his legs and pulled them closer to his chest. “Yeah, sure. It’s a public beach, after all.”

Right. Well, it was better than being turned away. Eddie walked closer before dropping down, leaving a few feet of space between them. They sat there for a while, watching the water lap at the sand. It was peaceful. God, Eddie really hadn’t appreciated the beach while he’d had the chance. He breathed in, deep and slow, letting himself feel the moment for what it was.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he chanced a glance at the other man. His face was smooth and relaxed, but there was a bit of tension to his shoulders. Eddie glanced away, biting his lip. He hoped he wasn’t making him uncomfortable. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, um, if I’m disturbing you, I can go away.”

The other man turned to look him. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he shook his head. “You’re not disturbing me. I promise. I just… I’m not great at talking to strangers. I feel like I’m always making it weird.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Well now, that just doesn’t sound likely. I’ll bet you’re a great conversationalist.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Not really. I’m sure you could find someone way more interesting to talk to back in town.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that. I’ve always been great at picking out the most fascinating people, and you?” Eddie leaned over to nudge him with his elbow. “Yeah, just looking at you, I can tell you’re pretty cool.”

A genuine smile lit up his face, transforming him from handsome to downright gorgeous. Eddie’s stupid heart skipped a beat, tripping over itself for a man he’d just met. It was so dumb. And yet… and yet it didn’t feel like they’d just met. Hearing his voice, it stirred his soul in the same way as when he’d first laid eyes on him. A gentle recognition.

The pretty stranger ducked his head. “Well, thanks. Can’t remember the last time someone called me cool. But I’ll take it.”

“As you should. So, uh, do you have a name?”

“I’m Steve. You?”

And, well, Eddie had always been one for theatrics. It had been a while since he’d had the ability to fully indulge. So, without warning, Eddie leapt to his feet and spun toward Steve, dropping into a low bow.

“Eddie Munson, town Freak and local satanist at your service.”

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that hinted where the creases of age would form. He was breathtaking.

“Are you really a satanist?”

Eddie dropped back onto the sand, sprawling out with his legs stretched in front of him. “Nah. Only on Wednesdays after seven.”

“Oh, okay, that’s alright then,” he said, nodding sagely. “Afterhours satanism doesn’t count.”

“Damn, my cult is going to hate to hear that. They put so much work into the Thursday morning brunch.”

Steve chuckled again. “Sorry. I’m sure it would have been lovely.”

They fell back into silence, only now it felt considerably more comfortable. Eddie was the first to break it once again, his eyes turned toward the horizon. “So, what are you doing all the way out here on your own? Already bored of the clubs and parties?”

The soft smile that had been resting easy on his face drops slightly, his brows twitching together the smallest amount. “No. No, it’s not that. I’ll probably go back to the dance club when I come back next time. They’re fun. I honestly forgot how much I like dancing; just getting lost in a crowd of people who feel good and want you to feel the same. But…”

Eddie waited, watching Steve’s face intently as he searched for what he wanted to say.

“But it can get overwhelming, being surrounded by so many people. It’s loud, and crowded, and bright. It’s, um, been a long time since I’ve been in that sort of environment. And then I remembered that this place has a beach. And it’s not like, the real beach. But it feels real. Smells real. Back in the real world, I never…”

Eddie titled his head to get a better look at his face. “You never went to the beach?”

Steve closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as though trying to force down a wave of emotion, and shook his head. “No. I always wanted to, but… Stuff just got in the way. I never got the chance. So, I walked here. And then I just looked out at all that water and it made me feel like maybe I didn’t miss out on everything like I thought I had. Like I could be alone without being lonely. I guess that sounds sort of stupid though, right?”

“No,” Eddie said, leaning a little closer. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid. It makes sense. I always struggled with differentiating between the two. All my life, I surrounded myself with people who didn’t really know me. I was in rooms full to the brim with laughter and music and dancing, and yet I felt like I was just another piece of furniture. People only noticed me when they needed me.”

“So, you never got married? Had kids?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nah. I mean, it wasn’t even legal for me until I was in my fifties. And even if it had been, I was in no mindset to settle down. What about you? I bet you were a real heartbreaker.”

A shadow passed over Steve’s face, his mouth drawing into a tight line. “No, not really. I mean, maybe when I was really young. Like, in high school. But I never married either.”

“Well, the world missed out then.”

Steve snorted. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. See, the thing you need to know about me is that I’m always right. Therefor, there’s no point in arguing with me.”

“Jesus,” Steve said with a laugh. “You think very highly of yourself.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say something more, but before he could, a shrill beep emitted from both of their watches. Eddie glanced down at the time.

“Ah, shit. Only two more minutes until times up.”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, I didn’t realize I’d been out here for so long. Time moves sort of weird here, doesn’t it?”

“Mm, or maybe I’m just that fun to talk to.”

“Again, very full of yourself.”

“You know, I could make a crude joke, but I’ll refrain.”

They smiled at each other, the moon reflecting off their eyes. Before Eddie could lose the courage, he cleared his throat.

“So, um, I’ll be back here next Tuesday. Would it be okay if I found you again?”

Surprise registered on Steve’s face. “You would want to?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? Yeah, of course. You’re the first person I’ve found here that I actually like talking to.”

He omitted the detail that he really hadn’t tried to talk to anyone else. Steve searched his face, for what, Eddie wasn’t sure. After a few seconds, he nodded.

“Yeah, alright. I would like that.”

“Cool, right, awesome. So, um, meet me at The Arcade?”

“I—”

Eddie awoke in his bed, the sound of waves and wind fading into the hum of an air conditioner overhead. He blinked; the image of Steve washed in moonlight slipping away, replaced by the white popcorn ceiling of his room. He shifted, groaning at the ache in his back. Yep, he was definitely in the real world again. God, he couldn't wait until Tuesday.

[a-whispering-echo]

PDA

hi! bad sansuary prompt for 'PDA'! i wrote a quick thingie for this one because character interactions are hard to draw.

this is written for the band au, but i dont THINK i mentioned anything too 'human' about them? all you really need to know i guess is theyre human, in a band, and Killer, Horror, Dust, Cross and Nightmare are a poly <3

Dust sat hunched over the apartment’s battered coffee table, scribbling in the margins of an old, dog-eared notebook. A mug of lukewarm tea sat beside him on the coffee table, untouched since Cross made it an hour ago. The faint hum of music filtered in from another room - Nightmare’s low-fi playlist, he thought, though it was hard to tell from here - and the scent of whatever Horror was cooking wafted lazily through the air. Dust’s pen stuttered against the paper as his wrist cramped. Fibro was a bitch today.

The sanctuary of his quiet moment was shattered by the telltale creak of Killer’s heeled boots on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, Dusty~!” Killer’s sing-song voice echoed through the room, and Dust groaned inwardly. The energy Killer exuded was like a hyperactive puppy on sugar, and Dust was just not in the mood. He hadn’t slept properly in… well, longer than he cared to admit.

“What.” Dust didn’t look up, didn’t stop fiddling with his pen.

“What, he says,” Killer huffed, plopping down on the couch beside him with exaggerated flair. “What! Like I’m not the literal love of your life walking into the room.”

“Bold of you to assume that title,” Dust muttered, though the faintest smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

Killer leaned in, propping his chin on Dust’s shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a bold guy. Now, c’mere.”

Dust froze as Killer wrapped his arms around him, hands resting firmly on his stomach. “Get off,” he grumbled, attempting to wriggle free.

“Nope. Not until you admit you love me.”

“Killer.”

“Dust.” Killer nuzzled into his neck, and Dust could feel the grin against his skin. “You’re so tense, habibi. You need to relax. Let me help.”

“I relax just fine without you.” Dust’s voice was tight, but he didn’t pull away again. It wasn’t that he hated Killer’s affection; he just didn’t know what to do with it. Especially not when Killer turned it up to 11 in front of everyone.

“Yeah, sure,” Killer teased. “Your shoulders feel like concrete, but go off, babe.”

Dust finally turned his head, fixing Killer with a glare. “Can’t you go smother Cross or something? He’s into that kind of crap.”

“Nah,” Killer said, nonchalant as ever. “He’s out grocery shopping with Nightmare. Horror’s cooking. That leaves you, my grumpy little void of a man.”

“I hate you,” Dust deadpanned, though the blush creeping up his freckled cheeks betrayed him.

“You loooove me,” Killer singsonged, placing a dramatic kiss on Dust’s cheek. “Admit it. Just three little words, and I’ll let you go.”

Dust sighed heavily, the sound laden with equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Fine. I tolerate you. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Killer’s grin widened, and he kissed Dust’s cheek again, lingering this time. “Now, how about a real kiss, huh?”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“I said no.”

“Okay, but hear me out- ”

Before Killer could finish, Dust grabbed a pillow from the couch and smacked him square in the face with it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” Killer shot back, undeterred, even as he rubbed at his nose. “Seriously, Dust, just let me love you. Is that so hard?”

“Yes,” Dust said flatly. But there was a softness in his tone, a quiet resignation that Killer knew meant he wasn’t as annoyed as he pretended to be.

“Fine. Be grumpy. But I’m not going anywhere.” Killer leaned back, resting his feet on the coffee table like he owned the place. Well, he did, Dust supposed.“So get used to it, babe.”

Dust groaned, slumping further into the battered couch, his notebook now abandoned on the coffee table. He felt Killer’s eyes on him, full of playful mischief, and he knew it was far from over.

Sure enough, Killer shifted closer, his hands already reaching for Dust’s waist. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah- ” Killer peppered exaggerated, smacking kisses along the side of Dust’s neck, his voice an over-the-top symphony of affection.

“UGH, get OFF, you fuckin’- you’re slobbering all on my neck!” Dust twisted, trying to squirm out of Killer’s iron grip.

“Never!” Killer laughed, clearly revelling in Dust’s irritation. “Your neck deserves to be cherished, and I am just the man to do it!”

“Cherish yourself into traffic,” Dust snapped, though the redness of his ears gave him away.

Killer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Rude! And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“A moment of you annoying the hell out of me, maybe.” Dust wiped at his neck, grimacing. “I’m gonna need to shower now.”

“Oh, don’t act like you hate it.” Killer leaned back with a smug grin, draping himself across the couch like a cat who had successfully knocked something off the counter. “You’re just mad because you do like it and you don’t wanna admit it.”

Dust threw him another glare, but Killer only winked.

“Fine,” Dust muttered after a beat, leaning forward to grab his notebook again. “You win. Now shut up.”

“Victory is mine!” Killer declared, throwing his arms up triumphantly before pulling Dust back into another side hug, this one blessedly less slobbery. Dust grumbled but didn’t fight it this time, letting Killer rest his head against his shoulder.

They sat like that for a while, Killer humming some off-key melody under his breath and Dust trying (and failing) to refocus on his writing. The warmth of Killer’s presence was annoying, sure, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“Love you, Dusty,” Killer said softly after a while, his voice unusually gentle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dust muttered, tapping his pen against the notebook. But this time, there was no bite in his tone. Just the quiet comfort of someone who knew they were loved, even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“…Love you too.”

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Welcome! Requests are Closed

I post a lot of polls, all in the name of some good fun. Please stick to the rules. If you made a request I'm getting to it, but I am a full-time college student, so I am very busy.

Propaganda is welcomed. However, please be respectful.

Disclaimer: My rules state characters must be canonically over the age of 15 or assumed high schooler or adult. Now that means minors can and probably will be matched up against each other and against 18+ characters. Please don't come at me about that choice. These characters are fictional. You can't hurt them, and a blog like this isn't going to normalize preying on minors. YES, it's wrong in real life, but anime teenagers are not normal teenagers. I literally just finished an anime about an assassin trying to get back to his wife. He was 16 and had a wife. I swore he was at least 20, but sometimes anime ages don't make sense. Please don't start anything, or I will start blocking. But for those of you who don't want to participate in those polls, I will tag them with #minor poll so you can block all polls that have confirmed 15-17-year-old characters. So if you have a problem with this decision, block the tag and don't participate. Don't start crap I have ways of punishing people even if they cause issues anonymously that's why there is fandom jail.

Now, that does mean please, in your request, mark that there is a 15-17-year-old so I can add the special tag for the sake of everyone that doesn't want to participate in these polls. To clarify, if they started the series at 14 and ended the series at 16, they will still qualify for my polls.

Now if you see a character that is a minor and the poll is not tagged, please let me know. You can politely leave a comment or shoot me an ask and I will add the tag. Some people are not the best at letting me know their poll has a minor in it and needs the tag when they request

Characters, where age verification is complicated due to magic, time travel, other universe shenanigans, or the immortal child trope are accepted on a case-by-case basis and will be tagged with the #schrodingers minor just to be safe

If the ship is incest, whether it be adopted or blood I will have to tag it with #incest ship so So people can filter it out if they don't want to see it. So if you see a poll that needs it. Let me know in the comments. However, this does not include found family. Please do not try to argue that ships like Naruto/Sasuke or Zoro/Sanji or somehow incest. I have seen things on the internet so I have to clarify.

If you have particular photos in mind, you can submit them through the inbox. Now if you send photos please no photo links. They are unreliable. They frequently do not work. And because I try to only use official photos, I do not accept links to Facebook or Pinterest for photos

Polls that contain spoilers relating to any fandom will be marked with the tag #spoiler poll so you can go ahead and block it now Now if you see a poll that contains a spoiler you can leave a comment and I will mark it. People are also terrible at letting me know if things are spoilers.

Not sure if the show counts here. Is it a list of cartoons and anime-like shows and if can they be requested before you ask

Please be aware sometimes people are degenerate and love to respond to things, with unhinged thirst so those posts will be tagged with #spicy or #nsft if you would like to block those tag

Non-Poll Series

These can all be found under their respective title tags

Poll Analysis, where I write down my thoughts about observations I have made about fandom behaviors and trends because some of you guys have interesting behavioral patterns, and I read every tag and comment left on my polls

Nicknames and Funny Tags, where I collect All those creative tags and comments that have been left on my polls for your viewing pleasure. I have posts dedicated to specific fandoms and their creativity, which I update whenever I have time

Fandoms vs Illiteracy, where I publish one of the many essays I receive asking me to ban certain characters or fandoms and due to their problematic nature or other stupid reasons. This can sometimes turn into a fierce debate

Defend Your Blurbo, (Series moved to sideblog) my bi-weekly series discussing how some people can find (insert Blorbo of the week) attractive. This can be funny. This can be stupid. Sometimes, this involves PHD level dissertations in defense of our favorite 2D characters. You never know what you're going to get. Also, look under the Defend your Blurbo response tag. That's where all my followers send their responses to the original Defend Your Blurbo post. Those can get wild! DyB Masterlist and Series rules and guidelines. This series is the reason I now have the #spicy and #nsft tags due to the amount of unhinged thirst that is NSFW so you can block those tags if you don't want to see it.

The Horny Scale (Series moved to sideblog) is a series where people ask where particular fandoms fall on the horny scale. I made details here, and the Masterlist. The series also use spicy tag system

Horny Jail's Anonymous: (Series moved to sideblog) Dyb and the horny scale's bastard child. For all the unhinged thirst and love letters to blorbos that I have received that do not fit dyb. Think of it as anonymous confessions. They come in two varieties: the Thirsties for all the thirsty confessions and the Fluffies for all the wholesome fluffy ones. They will be tagged with #thirsty and #fluffy accordingly, along with the usual spicy tags. More details here & here

Sideblog for the thirsty non poll series @welcometothehornyjail

Fandom Jail, aka the Wall of Shame

All fandoms listed below are serving their jail sentence due to bad behavior. Here are the dates of when you can expect to see polls from these fandoms again

The jail is empty. Everyone has been on their best behavior. Let's keep it that way