#I HAD TO REDO THIS FOUR. FUCKING. TIMES.

[captiandirtnap]

Perhaps a Pearl of the escentmoon variety for drawing requests?

she’s explaining color theory to Tilly

[rapidhighway]

damn blender got hands

[krongulous]

I’m hoping with every fibre of my being that VR gets rid of palpacking, I’ve just had to fight a team for an item I need to get Aphrodite right, they’re all level 70 and can Miximax and summon Keshins

They dropped one thing and it’s the teams emblem

Team emblems are 100% guaranteed drops for every team you fight

They dropped nothing else

I have to do it again

[weeping-gospels]

“ Da… “

Placing the creature down, the baby was now fully awake and alert, scanning his surroundings. Beady eyes stared expectantly up at the large rat and stalwart Dhampir.

“ I believe he is a male, but my hypothesis could be incorrect due to his young age.

As for the name selection — well, as you are obviously aware, I tend to lean toward the gothic aspect of things.

As such, I thought of Ghoul and Phantasm. One or the other peak your fancy? Or none entirely? “

Getting down on all fours to be eye level, the undead exposed twin fangs and let out a soft hiss. In return, the bat-rat mimicked her pose and exposed barely sharp enough fangs and incisor, exhaling a breathy hiss.

@warhammer-fantasy-muses

[ichorai]

tourney favor ; aemond targaryen (m).

pairing ; aemond targaryen x wife!reader

synopsis ; it was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. but it wasn’t improper by any means. strange, perhaps, but not improper. you glanced back at aemond. he was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched. was he jealous?

wc ; 2.1k

themes ; smut, mild fluff, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; jealous aemond, unprotected sex, breeding kink and brief mentions of pregnancy/children, wall sex, foul language, mentions of violence/murder

a/n ; if this fic sounds familiar, i took some lines from my far-lengthier aemond fic, balance the scales :)

main masterlist.

A grand tourney was held in honor of Jahaerys and Jahaera’s eighth nameday. 

You sat beside Helaena in the high platforms on the elongated arena, hands twisting in your lap. Tourneys usually bored you to no end—watching men hurt themselves over little else than theatrical show and bragging rights was not something you were very keen on. It felt like a waste of time to you, especially because you were already spoken for—you’d much rather be reading, or honing your needlework, or playing with the twins. To your other side was your husband, Aemond, looking equally disinterested in the event. You noticed his long fingers tapping impatiently against his knee, as if he were itching to leave. His older brother Aegon was nowhere to be seen, most likely somewhere in the bowels of the Street of Silk. 

You couldn’t help but feel envious. How come the father of the children the realm was celebrating was off gallivanting through the city, probably sunken into his cups and his whores? He was free to fuck whoever and whenever he wanted. Whilst you had to sit for hours on end beside your beloved husband, with whom you wanted to do nothing more than clamber into his lap and kiss him until the two of you grew dizzy.

Perhaps a large part of your agitation was due to the fact that Aemond had sunken to his knees in your chambers only an hour before, his tongue spelling worship over your drenched core. And you’d been so close, ever so close to falling off the edge—

Until there came a knock on the door, and Criston Cole’s muffled voice echoed through the shut door. He had to urgently speak to Aemond before the tourney, apparently. 

Something akin to a growl caught in his throat as your husband reluctantly drew away from you. You moaned lowly at the loss, sitting up at the edge of the four-poster bed as you watched him wipe your arousal from his chin.

“We’ll resume this tonight,” he had whispered into your flushed ears, before whisking off to speak to Ser Criston.

Seven fucking hells.

It took several moments for you to compose yourself, before you called in one of your handmaidens to help you dress for the tourney. Redo your hairstyle, too, because Aemond had certainly mussed it beyond salvation.

And now, as you fussed with your fingers in the stands, boredly clapping whenever the crowd was, it only came as an utter surprise when you heard your name called out. You sat up straighter, eyes falling from your hands to the riding grounds down below. It didn’t slip past your notice seeing Aemond tense, his fingers curling into a pale fist over his thigh.

A handsome knight donned in black-and-yellow armor stared up at you. You faintly recalled the patterned sigil emblazoned into the shield he was holding—he was of House Darklyn. He had taken off his helmet momentarily, lodged between his waist and his free arm. Gorgeous dark locks spilled over the nape of his neck, only slightly curled. 

The olive green of his eyes gleamed boldly, full lips upturned into a charming smile. “Might I be honored with your favor, my Lady? I can certainly use the luck.” 

Your gaze flickered over to his formidable opponent, a strong and muscular man, shrouded in white. His shield bore a red lion. House Reyne.

It was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. But it wasn’t improper by any means. Strange, perhaps, but not improper. You glanced back at Aemond. He was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched.

Was he jealous?

You could feel the muted arousal roar back to life in your lower abdomen. 

“Of course, Ser,” you called back with a knowing smile in your husband’s direction. You grabbed a ring of woven flowers and tossed it down over the jousting lance. “Be careful.”

Off the Darklyn knight went with your favor swaying by the lance’s handle, the metal grating of his helmet pulled down over his grinning features. You weren’t even sure what his name was.

The joust began just as you sat back down beside Aemond—but you found yourself barely paying attention to what was unfolding, and rather kept your eyes trained on your husband.

“Rather improper of him to ask for your favor,” he commented snidely, voice lowered so only you could hear. “You’re my wife.”

“Perhaps you should be down there, then,” you replied lightly, offering him a cruel smile. You knew well just how little Aemond cared for all the glamor the tourneys offered. “Show them who I belong to.”

Expression hardening to stone, he suddenly gripped your arm with iron-strength, hauling you up out of your seat, despite your half-hearted protests. You wondered if the Darklyn knight would search for you once the tourney was over. You found yourself unsurprised that you couldn’t care less about him.

Especially not with Aemond leading you down the halls of the Keep, twisting several sharp turns before shoving your chamber’s entrance open. Just as quickly as you were yanked inside, the wooden door slammed shut behind you, and you were promptly shoved up against it.

His lips were angry over yours, claiming you, biting you, devouring you completely. You fell slack in his arms, one of your hands resting over his chest, almost as if you were debating between pushing him away or pulling him closer. He swallowed the noises of contentment that slipped from your throat.

“You just couldn’t wait,” he snarled, shoving you against the door harder until he was pressed flush over your body. Jealous Aemond was certainly a sight to behold. “My greedy little wife.”

You preened at his words, arching your back, desperate to reconnect your lips to his. He didn’t put up a fight, allowing you to fight for dominance, claw at his neck and chest in desperation as you kissed him as if he were the very air you needed to breathe. 

Wasting no time, he reached down to yank the bottom of your dress upwards—cursing under his breath at all the damned layers you were wearing—and hurriedly shoved away your shift so he could reach your pulsing cunt. 

You were drenched. Warm and wet and fuck, he couldn’t wait a moment longer—

Sensing this, you made quick work of his trousers, yanking them downwards before moving up to pop off his tunic’s buttons. A startled, pleasured cry—verging on a hysterical sob—tore from your lungs and rattled across the chambers when he suddenly thrusted two long fingers into you, his thumb working quick circles over your sensitive clit. You’d already been denied an orgasm once, and you found a litany of breathless pleas erupting from your lips, as if it were just second nature.

“Please, Aemond, please—” You choked on whatever else you had to say, eyes rolling back as your orgasm slammed into you far too soon for your liking. Heavy and all-consuming. 

But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, more, you’d always want more of your husband.

“Aemond, please, I need you inside,” you croaked, letting out a sigh when he drew a few tender kisses to your forehead. A glimpse of the softer side of your husband, scarcely shown unless it was with you. You loved him like this, but you wanted—no, you needed—him to lose all abandon with you. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I’ll ask the Darklyn knight,” you growled with a serrated tone.

Aemond drew away from you, violet eye ablaze. Was it fury or was it possessiveness written so plainly over his features? Perhaps both. “What did you say?” he whispered, a hand suddenly surging up to grip your jaw.

“I said,” you huffed, staring at him with a challenging quirk of your brows, “I’ll ask another man to fuck me. If my husband won’t do so, that is.”

Silence on Aemond was scarier than anything. You wished he would speak, or scream, or call you filthy names. But no, he… he was observing you. Calculating. Like a cat would a mouse. 

Or a dragon would its kill.

With one fluid motion, he drew his length into his hand—long and hard and angrily weeping with beads of pearly precum. The other hand abruptly flipped you around with surprising strength, crowding you against the wall beside the door so your back faced him. You moaned out his name when he pushed your dress up over your hips and dragged his tip over your drenched core.

“Please,” you begged, bracing yourself against the wall and jutting your hips back. If you could hear yourself over the buzzing in your ears, you’d be absolutely mortified at how delirious you sounded.

In one quick motion, he sheathed himself into you. Your warm, pulsating cunt was gripping him like a vice, eliciting a shuddering groan from his lungs. You mirrored his reaction, squeezing your eyes shut and holding onto him for dear life as he began to pound into you with no restraint. The lewd noises ricocheting in the room made your cheeks heat up until your entire face felt like it had been set aflame. With each snap of his hips into yours, you found yourself crying his name like a mantra, his hands bruising over your waist, pulling you back into him.

You were blubbering incoherently, begging for more. You just about lost it when one of his hands disappeared from your waist—only to roll over your aching clit with quick circles. A sob broke past your lips and you clenched hard around his length, feeling every hot inch of him buried deep inside you. His pace staggered with the sudden shift and he groaned out a curse, followed by your name.

“Who did you want to fuck?” he bit out, slightly breathless, words dripping with venom. “What’s his name?”

“I—” You hiccupped a cry with a particularly loud thrust. “Oh, fuck, Aemond!”

“Right,” he hissed, bending forward to bite down on your strained neck. “I’m the only one who can fuck you like this. Not pretty boys in silly costumes—mmph—not daft knights who lose tourneys. Me.”

The last word was ground out when your cunt spasmed around his girth once more, and you wailed out his name as your orgasm rolled over you. It was a wonder nobody had barged in to see if there was someone being murdered. 

“Perhaps I’d have to get you all round and swollen with my child. Show them who you belong to. Who fucked you this good. Would you like that, sweet wife?” 

“Yes, yes, Aemond, I need—I need you to come inside. Please, I need you to stuff me full.”

You reached behind you to blindly grapple for his arm and he briefly shifted the angle and began pounding into you even harder. His cock hit your sweet spot just right, and you saw stars swimming over your vision. 

A near animalistic noise tore through Aemond’s chest when you tightened around him one last time, your warm cunt fluttering around his cock. His rhythm faltered. What drove him over the edge was when he glanced down and saw the thick ring of your creamy arousal at the base of his cock. Gods, you were… beyond perfect.

With a staggered rasp of your name, he thrust into you thrice more before he spilled his seed deep in you, thick spurts of white coating your slick walls.

Heavy pants filled the room. You barely registered his lips kissing along your bare shoulder, where your dress had slipped in the midst of your heated frenzy. 

Slow, he eased himself out of you. “You did so well for me,” he murmured against your skin, smoothing his hands over your waist. “Are you alright?”

“Mmh,” you hummed, because no words would come to you at the moment.

He laughed, a wonderfully rich sound, before gently urging you towards the bed. 

“Get some rest, wife,” he told you, laying you onto the plush mattress and dipping down to kiss your forehead. He regarded you with raw adoration folded over his expression. Though, it was quick to melt into a thunderous one with his next sentence. “I have a certain knight to exchange words with.”

If you hadn’t been so high off your orgasms and exhausted with the new-found urge to sleep the whole night away, you would’ve realized that Aemond was likely going to commit manslaughter over something as trivial as a tourney favor. But you hadn’t thought about it much, not in your sex-addled haze, and promptly fell asleep with only the dream of silver-haired babes with wonderful purple eyes to accompany you. 

[princemick-archive]

they said they were gonna make those groups with us to assure everyone would be comfortable w them...

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 5) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part four | part six

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.9k

Present

“Please make your decision quickly. I think the fuckin’ cops are looking for me.” He says. His voice sounds deeper than you remembered. You thought you had imagined it in the diner, or that his change in tone was a consequence of his anger toward his brother, but there was no denying it here. You glaze over that comment about law enforcement apparently searching for him.

He was leaning slightly out the window of his truck, etching toward you so that you could hear him over the sound of the surrounding traffic. You feel Megumi tug on your jacket, so you look down at where he’s tucked in. 

You always knew he looked just like his father, your mind tormented you with that fact every waking moment, but it was hitting you now. Here you had the framework to sit and compare their faces from more than memory alone. 

Needless to say, all of the pictures you had of Toji had been destroyed after you found out he left town. All of the clothes he had given you or left in your room had been donated when you moved out of your mother’s house. You had no physical reminders of his existence aside from the child the two of you shared and the golden angel necklace that sat tucked away at the back of your dresser. It was sitting against the back of the drawer, tucked away in a pair of polka dot socks that you never wore. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of that one.

“Momma, that man is swearing.” Megumi says in his sweet voice. You grimace. Is this how you wanted your son to meet his father? In response, you rub his back and try to muster a smile. “I know, baby.” You whisper to him. “We can talk about swearing later.” Megumi had taken “Don’t say ‘fuck’, you’re only four” to mean, “anyone that swears, including adults, should be chastised.” You would have to redo that lecture. 

You really, really shouldn’t get in the truck. You should carry on with your life and pretend that all of this never happened. That Toji isn’t in the flesh in front of you, looking more handsome than you had ever remembered. Looking just like his fucking son. So much like his son that it felt like you were being taunted. He could never deny Megumi again once he saw his face. Even people who weren’t close to you could see the resemblance. 

It’s cold, you justify to yourself as you adjust Megumi in your arms and stand up from the bench. We’ll get home quicker, you think as you round the front of his truck towards the passenger side. You’ve run out of excuses by the time you’re opening the door and sliding in his truck. 

There are countless reasons why you shouldn’t have even looked up while you heard him call you. For starters, the fact that he just said law enforcement is allegedly in pursuit. He’s been back in your life for less than an hour and you’re already doing stupid shit.

What the fuck. You keep Megumi tucked into your chest tight as you sit down in the truck. Megumi is facing his father, trying to get a read on the man his mother had broken the rules for. 

“Okay baby,” You had said to Megumi merely weeks prior, “If a stranger asks you to get in the car with them, what do we say?” You ask him, holding his little hand in yours. 

“My momma said no!” He says. The two of you were sitting on your living room floor, with a blanket under you and watching The Little Mermaid on DVD. You had to save costs wherever you could, and those costs did not include cable. After watching Ariel go into Prince Eric’s palace-house within the first couple of hours being a human, you felt it appropriate to give Megumi the kidnapping talk. He takes a bite of the apple you had cut for him earlier. 

“And what if the stranger said, ‘I’ll give you Pokemon cards if you get in the car’?” You ask him. “I don’t even like Pokemon anymore!” He says proudly, in response to the hypothetical stranger. “What? Since when?” You asked, slightly horrified that you weren’t as attuned to your 4-year old’s interests as you thought. “Since the stranger asked me, momma.” He replied simply. 

This exchange must be very odd for Megumi. You had done your best to raise him right. The best that you could with the resources you had. You tried to teach him hard rules. Don’t talk to strangers, wash your hands before you eat, for the love of god please do not stick forks in the outlets. Now the ‘no strangers’ one was out of the window. It would be tough to explain this. Another lecture to redo.

Toji’s got his eyes on the rearview mirror, looking back at the diner. “Jinichi called the cops on me, the fucking asshole,” He mummers that last part to himself. “So where am I taking you?” Blunt and to the point like always. You give him your address before you could even think about it. Megumi’s tugging on you again to indicate he heard that comment, but you’re slightly out of it. 

There’s a big tear that exposes the cushion of the seat you’re on. You had left that there a lifetime ago when you drunkenly stole Toji’s knife and acted out a confrontation between you and a random girl that was hitting on him. That was one of the many nights that ended in laughter instead of tears.

 It smells exactly the same, he still uses the black ice scent for the little tree hanging from his rearview mirror. He’s still got his CD collection strapped to the sun visor on the driver’s side of the truck. It’s grown since the last time you saw it, expanding to the passenger side sun visor as well. There’s still a mysterious dark stain that you don’t feel comfortable speculating on the nature of in the floorboard. Evidently, he never managed to get it out. 

It’s too much. You have to fight to hold back tears. You had told yourself to never give an ounce to this man again. No tears, no anger, nothing. You had broken that in the diner earlier. It would not happen again.

You should have told him to take you to your mom’s house, so he wouldn’t have any kind of access to you or Megumi. Why would you give him your own address? How fucking stupid. 

It’s silent in the truck. You weren’t going to say anything, you might burst into tears if you opened your mouth. You had sat Megumi on your right side, away from Toji. He was pressed in between you in the door so that you wouldn’t have to be any closer to the man than necessary.

 You still don’t know if Toji had gotten a look at him yet. You take a moment to study the man. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, sitting pin-straight in his seat. His eyes are very pointedly on the road, as if he’s trying not to look over. If the whites on his knuckles were indicative, and after spending years with him, you knew they were, Toji had already figured it out. 

After that call four years ago, you had a lot of time to ponder Toji’s reaction to you telling him about Megumi. Logically, you knew he was doing what he always did. Avoiding it because he didn’t wanna deal with the prospect of it. The same way he cheated on you to try and get you to run like you should have. The same way he used to pick a fight just to see if that would be your final straw. He denied Megumi because he had some weird psychological avoidance issue. 

Emotionally, you couldn’t see it as anything other than him being selfish while you gave your life to your child. Literally, that’s what it was. 

You were too busy looking at him to notice you had pulled into your apartment complex. 

“Um..” He clears his throat. “Which building do I drop you off at?” Drop you off. You scoff out loud. Of course. He finds out the kid really is his, and he’s avoiding us again. 

“The second one.” You say. You don’t know what you expected. For him to immediately pull Gumi into a hug and move in with you within the hour? Yeah fucking right. 

“Mama, can I play with the Christmas tree when we get home?” Megumi had asked you as your apartment came into view. ‘Christmas tree’ was one of his favorite games to play, where he got all the pots and pans from the cabinets and stacked them on top of each other to make a “Christmas tree.” It was a very messy game that required you to rewash all of your dishes when you were done, so it was a rule that he had to ask for permission before playing. The game had started when last year, tips were slow and you were late on your electric bill. You had already asked your mom for help that month, and refused to do it again. This, of course, meant that there was no money for a christmas tree. After Megumi’s December birthday and the one christmas present you could afford, you had to find some way to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t have a tree like the one at grandma’s house. “We have a better one.” You had told him, “One that you can play with all year long.” 

Needless to say you had cried yourself to sleep that night. 

“We’ll see, Megumi.” You say. The truck comes to a stop in front of your building, and without a word you’re grabbing Megumi out of the truck and slamming the door shut. Not a word said to Toji, not even a glance directed his way. 

It had started sprinkling rain on your drive over. This morning, your mom had called you to let you know there was a flood warning for the next city over. You usually didn’t take those entirely too seriously, waving her off when she had asked you to bring Megumi and spend the night at her house. 

The apartment is two stories tall with stairs on the outside, so you hold Megumi’s hand in yours as you slowly traverse up the stairs. He was skilled enough to walk up them on his own, but after an incident where he took a small fall down them, you were slightly paranoid. 

By the time you’re unlocking your apartment door, you notice that you hadn’t yet heard Toji’s truck pull away, so you glance back to see him still sitting there, waiting for you to get inside. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes. You can feel your heart drop as you usher Gumi in the house and close the door behind you. Don’t give him an ounce. 

You hope and pray that that is the last time you will ever have to think about Toji Fushiguro. The last time until Megumi gets old enough to realize his last name is different from yours. The last time until he asks you why all his friends in school have two parents and he only has one. The last time until he gets old enough to ask why you and his dad never made it work. Until you have to hold him as he cries and wonders why Toji never wanted him.

You let Megumi play Christmas Tree so you can lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment to compose yourself. 

By the time you get Megumi bathed, fed, and ready for bed, it’s eight at night, and the rain outside has been pouring heavily for a couple hours. Gojo had texted you to let you know that the tips had been good that day, but you had a feeling he was lying so he could slip a bit of his parent’s money into what he “owed you.” The diner was never busy on the Monday lunch shift. 

You had made spaghetti that night, a common occurrence in your home and something you were grateful Megumi hadn’t gotten tired of yet. Occasionally, you would get the kitchen guys to sneak you a meal in a togo box to offset grocery costs and eat something different every once in a while. Nanami was one of the cooler managers, which was why you were more comfortable asking that Megumi sit in the diner while you worked that day, but he was not one to let free food slide. 

The night was surprisingly peaceful once Megumi was distracted by his toys and tonight’s DVD movie, Toy Story, which Shoko had gotten him for his birthday. You were distracted by cleaning every single pot and pan you had after Megumi was done playing with them.

Once the two of you sat down for dinner, the inevitable questions came, and Megumi had asked you about the encounter with Toji earlier that night. 

“Mommy, why did those two guys at your job,” he took a breath in between his sentences and spaghetti, “start hitting each other, and then why did you got in one of their cars?”

That was a long conversation about how some brothers (you had let that slip), don’t get along, and how you had already known Toji, though you didn’t say from where or why. Thankfully, Megumi was more curious about why brothers and sisters fight than why his mother got into this random man’s truck. You would definitely have to revisit the “stranger danger” talk. 

It’s about 11 at night when you hear a booming knock at your door. It had pulled you out of your “almost-asleep” daze on the couch. You had already put Megumi to bed by then, and were taking a couple hours to yourself before you went to bed too. You prayed the sound hadn’t woken him. 

Whoever it is knocks again, this time harder and faster. Now that you have more mental capacity to process that, someone uninvited is knocking at your door at an inappropriate time of night for a single mother, you dash across your living room to grab the baseball bat you keep by the door. You’ve never had to defend yourself and your son in this capacity, and suddenly the adrenaline kicks in, and you squeeze the wooden slugger to center yourself.

The only light in the room is coming from the TV, playing the play menu of Clueless on repeat. You must have been asleep longer than you thought. Hoping not to be seen through your shadow by the window, you slowly crane your neck up toward the peep-hole of your apartment door. What you see is the last thing you expected.

Of course it’s Toji. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you alone. You’re such a fucking idiot. 

For a second you contemplate on whether or not you should open the door, but when he bangs again, somehow even louder, you fear that he won’t only wake up Megumi, but the entire apartment complex.

You put the bat back down and unlock the door, pulling it open slowly so that he would only be able to see half of your body from the angle he’s positioned at. He has his hand leaning on the doorframe, and his figure is hunched over to the point he has to lift his head to look you in the eyes. When he does, you realize what this is. He’s drunk.

His eyes are bloodshot red and watery. He’s soaked from head to toe, he had clearly walked through the rain from wherever he was coming from, or stood out in it for so long that he was drenched. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand that wasn’t against the doorframe, hanging precariously from his grasp like he would drop it at any moment. You couldn’t see how much was in it from here, but you knew he had to have drank quite a bit for him to be in this state. 

It’s only when he looks you up and down that you realize you’re only in an old t-shirt and underwear. If this were anyone else, you would’ve squirmed under their gaze, maybe ran to go throw something on, but with Toji, as dumb as it sounded, you couldn’t care less. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him.

He says nothing, just looks you up and down again and takes a shot from the bottle. 

“Did you drive here?” He nods. Well that’s not fucking good. 

You wait for him to say something, to explain why he felt entitled to knocking on your door in the middle of the night soaking wet with nothing to say. Or maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he left you in the first place without saying a word. Maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he never even felt the need to come check if Megumi was his. You’re waiting for a lot of explanations. But you don’t get a single one.

In a voice that can only best be described as broken, he softly slurs out, “You… you named him Megumi?”

very... very sorry for the wait. that semester ended up kicking my ass. no excuses i am very sorry D;

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[cleolinda]

I’ve read a few of the umpteen thousand upset comments about the paid Watcher service, and I’ve read comments angry about the upset comments. There’s one thing I want to point out, and it’s that this isn’t, or shouldn’t be, “You’re saying people don’t deserve to earn money for their work.”

The Watcher guys do deserve to earn money. I already give them money. I give them $5 a month on Patreon, not because I think they do or don’t give me $5 worth of media, but because I want to support them. I canceled Netflix for pissing me off with its price hike/ad tier, but I give Watcher Entertainment money.

They’re saying now that the Patreon will be solely about the podcasts, and they understand if people leave. I’m perfectly happy to switch the support I can afford to the streaming service. With the early adopter 30% discount, I’d actually save money. In fact, I tried to subscribe, but the site didn’t work.

Watcher wanting to profit from their shows isn’t the problem. It’s that they’re now discovering that their fanbase is young and broke in a terrible economy, judging by tens of thousands of comments on multiple platforms. I can throw them $5/month, so I do. But the Patreon only has (checks notes) 5874 paying followers, and there’s a reason for that. $60/year upfront would not be “accessible.” Patreon is literally patronage from the people who can afford it.

If the guys had said up front, “ONLY new shows and episodes will be exclusive to the service,” I think we’d be having a different conversation right now. But at first they did say, “We’re pulling all our content from YouTube,” to the point where Variety had to issue an update. Like, that’s in print and I’m pretty sure it was on video. Now they’ve backtracked to ONLY new etc.—but most people haven’t heard, and they feel crushed. And the trust is probably gone regardless.

So now four years of back catalogue will stay public. And now, you’re paying $6.99 a month for one episode, maybe two, of something a week, and now, not an exclusive back catalogue. I would pay for Watcher shows before I’d pay for anyone else, but I just don’t think the company is big enough yet for a SVOD at that price. They’re not Dropout size. They needed to build more programming and get a higher follower count first, or at the very least, charge less.

The international price/exchange rate situation is a nightmare and I don’t know what it is they’re not doing to make it… not… be like that.

I don’t know what they should have done instead of a full streaming service, but surely there were alternatives? I’ve seen comments from people suggesting they GET a Patreon. Lean on that more! Do the shows exclusive for a month and then let them roll onto YouTube! I don’t know! Anything but One More Fucking Streaming Service, which enraged me, and I was willing to move my support to it!

And I shouldn’t say this, but I will. In the “Goodbye YouTube” video the guys posted, they say that setting up the streaming service has allowed Steven to do a remake of Worth It where he and his cohosts travel the world and eat expensive food. This is the first new show they announce. Not “We have always been committed to diversity and we’re now able to bring on new creator(s) to expand our programming.” No, a redo of an old show that by definition has got to be expensive. Commenters are saying they can’t pay for the streaming service because they can’t make ends meet in this economy. The optics are terrible. I genuinely question what the thought process even was here.

I love the guys and I still watch their shows. I want to see Watcher succeed. I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved in 2018 while recovering from surgery—as with a lot of people, their shows got me through a tough time. I’m as attached as anyone. If I can continue to afford monthly support—this is not a certainty—I’ll give it to them. I’m not a ~hater who doesn’t want Watcher to make money. But I am absolutely BAFFLED by every single decision here. I want them to figure out how to turn this around and go in a better direction, because right now, this ain’t it.

[steddiealltheway]

I feel so bad for Steve. Because everyone he surrounds himself with are so highly intelligent. Like not even just smart, they’re off the charts gifted type kids.

And they all think Steve is so dumb. Like, yes he couldn’t get into Tech, but that doesn’t mean he’s the dumbest person to exist. And I especially hate how much they lean into that in season four.

But then Eddie comes along, Eddie who is redoing his senior year for the third time, and he sees Steve.

He recognizes how much the kids and his friends berate him for his ideas and thoughts. And he can’t help but feel the need to reach out and acknowledge how great he really is. That he has qualities other than the great intelligence his friends possess.

And he tries to make sure that Steve knows that it’s alright that he doesn’t know stuff. Like he doesn’t know Ozzy, and that’s okay. He just explains it and moves on to his main point.

He doesn’t get upset when Steve doesn’t understand something. He just slowly explains it to him in multiple ways until he understands - he loves the look Steve gets when he has a lightbulb moment. (Eddie later gives Dustin a speech on patience)

Later on, when Eddie is explaining something to Steve, he doesn’t nod back or ask questions like he usually does. He just stares at Eddie’s lips.

“Steve…?”

Steve hums and quickly looks away from his lips, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Eddie asks slightly amused. Steve doesn’t respond. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“You can ask me anything, Steve.”

Steve looks at him and swallows loudly. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Have you… have you every had feelings…” Steve trails off and heavily sighs. He starts again, “Can… can people… like… girls and… boys?”

Eddie stares at Steve incredulously and explains, “Yes. They can. It’s called bisexuality.”

“Bisexuality,” Steve parrots.

Eddie nods. Steve seems to grasp the concept quickly, but Eddie can feel that he has more to say. He remains silent.

Eddie doesn’t push it, so he goes back to explaining what he was before.

A few weeks later, Eddie makes his usual Friday night stop at Family Video right before closing. He notices almost all the lights are already off inside, but the door is unlocked. He makes his way inside and winces as he hears Steve’s voice carry from the back room.

“I can’t tell him!”

“Steve, you’re an idiot if you don’t,” Robin says. Eddie winces.

“That’s exactly it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’m an idiot who goes to see him weekly so he can explain the dumbest things to me! And you want me to tell him what? That I have feelings for him?! Me, Steve ‘the dingus’ Harrington loves Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?!”

His voice gets louder by the end as the door to the back room opens up.

Eddie makes eye contact with Steve. He freezes.

“Why’d you stop, Dingus?” Robin asks pushing past him. She looks at Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie and Steve continue staring at each other.

“Well,” Robin says awkwardly, “I’m just gonna…” she gathers her stuff up from the counter and walks towards the front door, “Hey, look. Nancy’s here to pick me up. So that’s great. You two uhh… have a good time. Later…” she salutes the two of them and exits.

Eddie continues staring at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with him since he’s seen him.

“Steve…” Eddie breaks the silence.

“Don’t do that,” Steve begs.

“Do what?”

Steve breaks, “Talk to me like that! You’re not supposed to use that tone. You’re not supposed to treat me like I’m stupid. And I know I am. But you weren’t supposed to find out about my… my feelings. Because I’m an idiot. And you would never date an idiot. No one loves a fucking idiot.”

Eddie jumps over the counter and rushes into Steve’s personal space, grabbing his hands. “Steve, I have never thought you were dumb. You’re not. You never have been. But right now, for once, you’re being an idiot.”

Steve’s hands snap away from Eddie’s. “What?”

“You, Steve Harrington, are an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t fall for you. That I haven’t already.”

Steve stares at Eddie and shakes his head.

“I like you,” Eddie explains. It clicks in his head that sometimes Steve is a visual and kinesthetic learner. So he does the one thing he can think of and cups Steve jaw and brings him slowly in.

Steve’s hands make their way into his hair and pull him the rest of the distance. The kiss is sweet and gentle and full of promise.

Steve breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Eddie’s. He huffs out a laugh, “Was that your way of explaining to me that you like me?”

“Did it work?” Eddie asks.

“Yes.”

[melanieph321]

Angsty Idea for Ruben Imagine:

Y/N has been on a girls trip and Ruben promised to pick her up from the airport and spend the day together but he forgot and goes out with the boys. Y/N is hurt and feels like he doesn’t care about her and they get in a big fight but make up at the end !!

This request was great. The people thought it was great. And so here it is, greatness.

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Only Girl In His World

⚠️Warning ⚠️

+18

Enjoy!

You called your mom as soon as you got into a taxi outside of the airport.

"Y/N, this is the third time!"

But calling her might have been a mistake.

"Mom, Ruben hasn't forgotten to pick me up before."

"No. But last week he forgot to e-mail you the plane tickets for your trip and the week before that he had trouble remembering which country you and your friends were even visiting. It's how it starts honey and you need to put a foot down, or else."

"Or else what?" You frowned, although deep down the truth hurt.

"Or else you'll end up alone in a big house with four kids whilst your husband is running around living his life like some hot shot bachelor."

"Mom, that would never happen. You know Ruben, besides he doesn't even want kids." You defended, just like you had defended Ruben's mistake to your friends, saying he had alot going on and therefore forgot to e-mail you their tickets. "....At least we haven't talked about that yet."

"And you won't need to." She said. "Because he'll forget to pick you up for that meeting too."

"Jupp, okay. I see where this phone call is going mom. I'm hanging up now..." You had already cried at the airport when, after two hours of waiting, you realized that your boyfriend had forgotten about you. Your mother was not about to ruin the make up you had to redo because of that.

"Y/N, I just don't want you to get hurt." She said, more sympathetically.

"Like I said mom. It's Ruben we're talking about. He would never hurt me, ever."

The phone call ended.

Thirty minutes later the taxi pulled up to Ruben's apartment building. You took the elevator up and felt your heartbeat with longing for a hug from the love of your life, however, all you were met with was an empty apartment and no Ruben.

"Baby?"

You went from room to room, switching on the lights just to confirm that "Jupp." Your boyfriend forgot about you, or he simply couldn't care less about you. The worst thing was the realization that today was Ruben's day off, and thst at some point he had been home, and not alone. The Playstation was still plugged into the TV and there were empty bottles of that recovery drink that Ruben loved. However you couldn't imagine he'd ever recover from this, you'd never allow Ruben to make you feel this way again.

"Y/N?"

It was around eleven o'clock at night when you heard keys turn in the lock. Ruben must have sighted your open suitcase in the living room, for he was shouting your name.

"Fuck me." You heard him sigh. "Y/N, are you here?"

"In here!" You shouted from the bedroom. You were on the floor emptying drawers of all of your things.

"Oh my god, Y/N. I'm so sorry baby, so fucking sorry." Ruben appeared in the door frame, a pale look on his face, knowing damn well that he fucked up by forgetting to pick you up at the airport.

"I swear you said Sunday." He said, which was not an excuse, you thought. Why hadn't he checked with you if he was so unsure? A quick text message would have sufficed.

"No Ruben." You mumbled. "I specifically told you four o'clock, Saturday."

He slapped a hand over his face and sighed. "Fuck, I must have mixed up the dates."

"Of course you did."

"So...how did you get home?" He asked, the question so dumb that you wanted to slap that stupid look of innocence that he wore on his face.

"I took a taxi Ruben. Another will be here in a minute to pick me up."

He frowned "Why?"

You stood, a pile of folded clothes in your hands. "I'm leaving you Ruben. I'm tired of feeling like I'm always second best to you. So I'm prioritizing myself by leaving...you."

"What?" He blurred out. "W...what do you mean?"

You pushed past him as he stood in the door, once in the living room you dumped your folded clothes into your already packed suitcase.

"Baby, what do you mean your leaving me?" Ruben was close behind you, demanding answers. Why he was upset you  couldn't  even fathom. "Is this you breaking up with me or something, and for what, because I forgot to pick you up from a fucking airport?"

"And you forgot to send me my plane tickets! And you forgot which fucking country I was even in!" You shouted, with tears trailing down your face . "Did you even notice that I was gone Ruben? Did you even care that I was gone?"

"Baby?" He looked confused, confused as to why you were shouting and crying. "Why would you even ask me that? Of course I cared that you were gone. That's why I've had Bernardo come over here and play FIFA with me everyday since you left. "I...I don't know what has made you come to this conclusion about me...about us?" He looked to the suitcase on the floor with terror in his eyes. "Please, let's just talk about this first before you decide to do anything neither of us want.

You hated that he made you feel like the dramatic one, however he was right, the two of you should talk things out before you did anything that might be irreversible in the end.

"I don't wanna talk." You muttered.

"No?" Ruben looked on the verge of something, something he wouldn't recover from. "W...what do you want then?"

"I want to feel loved."

"Fuck." He sighed, rushing to cup your face in his hands. He lifted your head, bending down, kissing you. "Of course I love you. Your the only girl for me." He kissed you again, harder.

"Prove it." You said, pulling away from him.

"What?" He looked confused, so confused and afraid, afraid of losing you.

"Prove that you love me and only me"

"Y/N, how would I even do that?"

Your eyes looked him up and down, indicating nothing more than what you needed right now. "Fuck me."

Ruben's brows lifted.

You smiled. "Fuck me like I'm the only girl in the world."

Nothing more was said. Ruben didn't even let you leave the living room before your clothes came off. He had your legs spread wide with his cock thrusting in and out deep in side if you. He fucked you right there and then, on the living room couch, like you were the only girl in his world.

[iambicpentameterhamster]

Every umbrella academy character ranked (seasons 1-4)

After that shitshow of a fourth season, i felt it necessary to redo this.

#36 -The Sparrows (Jayme, Alphonso, Fae etc.)

The show had no clue what to do with these characters. They sit around being evil for a little while only to promptly die within four episodes. Also one of them is a fucking cube?!? Whats up with that?

#35 - Sloane

How come she disappears in season 4 but not sparrow Ben? So much of this makes no sense.

#34 -Sparrow Ben

I hate this character with my whole being. He goes around calling people emo as if HE DOESNT WAKE UP EVERY MORNING WITH A SCOWL ON HIS STUPID FACE AND EMO HAIR ON HIS STUPID FOREHEAD. He's so rude and awful and i'm given no reason by the show to give a shit where he ends up.

#33 -Carl Cooper

This one speaks for itself.

#32 -Reggie's wife

The two of them annoyed me so much.

#31 -Viktor

Moochy emo sod. Elliott Page's acting got progressively worse throughout the series (and i like Elliott Page, but this wasnt his best work.)- season 1 Vanya was tolerable, beyond that i couldn't stand this character. All his jokes land flat and he has the charisma of a piece of cardboard.

#30 -Season 4 Five

For the sake of this ranking, i am treating seasons 1-3 Five and season 4 Five as seperate characters. Seems like the writers were doing the same. What the fuck, guys? How do you bulldoze a character this badly?

Season 4 Five was unfunny, selfish, cowardly, and most of all on a different plane of being from the Five we all knew and loved. Screw you, season 4 Five, you're not canon.

#29 -Season 4 Lila

I'm treating Lila the same way. Season 4 Lila was an injustice to seasons 2-3 Lila.

#28 -Harlan

Couldn't care less about him. He represents to me when the umbrella academy started going to shit in season 3.

#27 -Jennifer

Again, we are given no reason to care about her.

#26 -Pogo

He was just there for the exposition. They never explained why Reggie was doing experiments on monkeys??

#25 -Reggie

He was quite a good villain but i still hate him. Really goofy at times, too.

#24 -Jean and Gene

They were quite good actually. If season 4 wasn't a dumpster fire, i reckon they'd have been able to really shine.

#23 -Cha Cha

This is getting into better territory. I liked Cha Cha, she was badass, but not well developed.

#22 -Detective Patch

Again, i liked her, but she wasn't given much time to develop as a character.

#21 -The Swedes

They were funny, whimsical villains that were fun to watch on screen. Funny and whimsical are two adjectives that TUA used to embody.

#20 -Elliott

My guy just wanted to eat fish and be a conspiracy theorist 😔

#19 -Sissy

Welcome back, Sheldon's mum.

In all seriousness, she was well acted despite Viktor's actor giving her nothing to work with, so props to her.

#18 -Dave

WE GOT ZERO MENTIONS OF DAVE IN SEASONS 3-4?!? DESPITE HIM BEING A HUGE PART OF KLAUS'S CHARACTER?!?! WHEN I CATCH YOU WRITERS-

#17 -Destiny's children

I am in fact an active member

#16 -Luther

I have bumped Luther up my list because in seasons 3-4 he sort of embraces his goofiness, but in seasons 1-2 he is an insufferable, incestuous moron. He is up here for good character development and i wished he could have ended up with Sloane.

#15 -Agnes

She was really cute and sweet, i liked her a lot. RIP season 1, you were peak.

#14 -Herb and Dot

They were sweet and funny too, and i miss the whole idea of the time commission.

#13 -Kenny's mum

An honourable mention

#12 -Grace

Grace was super well performed and poignant. I have no issues with Grace.

#11 -Stan

Live, laugh, love Stan. I hate that the trauma of losing him was never mentioned in season 4 for Diego or Lila.

My top 10

#10 -Lenoard Peabody/ Harold Jenkins

I stand by him being one of the best-acted and most cleverly written villains of all time. He is not only a well-executed surprise villain, but a scarily accurate one, and the actor plays him to perfection. We even start to like him before the cracks show. Also he looks like a creepy version of Lin Manuel Miranda.

#9 -Ray

Season 4 did Ray DIRTY. It was completely out of character for him to just walk out. They could have at least have him die in a tragic accident or something. Season 2 Ray is the perfect, most charismatic, ideal man and i hold him in my heart forever and in my head Alison and Ray ended up together.

#8 -Hazel

He had one of the best arcs on the show, period. Continues to represent everything good about the first two seasons of TUA. He was flawed, he was human, he was loveable.

#7 -Umbrella Ben

He seemed like he could have been a brilliant character with more screen time. His sacrifice in season 2 was a genuinely moving moment. The backstreet boys moment is SO FUNNY and his and Klaus's dynamic is something i really miss.

#6 -The Handler

We don't appreciate The Handler enough. The show started rolling downhill as soon as The Handler was gone. She was the glue that held the show together, one of the best villains/antagonists in TV history.

#5 -Allison

Yes, season 3 Allison made some stupid choices and did some terrible things, but a lot of it came from grief and she redeemed herself in season 4 imo. Seasons 1-2 Allison was one of the most charismatic, endearing and empathetic characters on the show.

#4 -Seasons 1-2 Lila

I love you. I miss you. Come back to me.

#3 -Diego

Bumped up the list for being a CONSISTENTLY good character who is flawdd but still extremely loveable and hilarious.

#2 -Seasons 1-3 Five

Seasons 1-3 Five would shoot season 4 Five in the face. He is the daddy here, and season 4 Five is the creepy uncle.

Original Five is a masterfully crafted, hilarious, unique, intelligent character and i will not let season 4 ruin it for me.

#1 -Klaus

This needs no justification.

What do you think? How far do you agree?

[forestshadow-wolf]

It's raining, ghost idly notes. Technically he should be focusing on the field briefing that they're getting, but they'd already gooten one when assigned, one before they left base, and one on the plane ride here. So really, they're just talking in cirlces now.

Price is at the front of the table explaining the plan, which they have to wait four hours to even begin acting on, standing next to the open laptop showing all the documents they need.

Gaz is trying very poorly to act like he's listening. Poorly because he's been flicking wadded up pieces of paper at price (who is ignoring it pretty well)

Ghost usually doesn't sit during briefings, he gets distracted, so he takes up a spot by the wall.

But soap, uncharacteristically is also leaning up against the wall next to him. Usually he playing footsies.with gaz across the table, but not today.

Price is still droning on about the mission blah blah blah, ok well not blah blah blah but it's nothing he hasn't already memorized.

He watches soap squeeze tightly at his knee again, for the third time in the last 20 minutes, as far as he cam reach without making it obvious. Ghost also notes that he's stiffer than usual.

He leans into soap's space just a bit, "you 'kay?" He whispers. Soap nods almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, why?" He hisses.

"It's just... you know you can sit down right?" He says, gesturing slightly to the 3 open chairs at the table. One of which would normally be occupied by a certain scot anyway.

"Yea- I knoe tha', I chose to stand for a reason."

"Well- I was jus' sayin', ya look uncomfortable, s' all."

"I am, tha's why I'm standing."

"Yeah, 'cus that makes sense-"

"Are you two done arguing yet?" Price cuts in. Soap looks just as chastised as Ghost feels, which... is really only enough to fake it.

"Yes, sir." They both respond, and peice goes back to his rambling.

The meeting ends soon enough, and they're finally released to get ready or whatever they need to do.

"You sure you’re okay, johnny?" Ghost catches a stiff legged soap just before he leaves.

"Aye, s' rain s'all" Ghost isn't really sure what that has to do with anything, and he says as much. "I fucked up my knee a few years ago, it's fine now, the rain just makes it act up a little. Something Something low pressure atmosphere, basic science, I think."

"Okay, well you know you could sit down. Would probably help." Ghost suggests... again

"Yeah and I'll not stand up again, not with this wanker" soap snorts at him, referring to his knee. Ghost frowns.

"Well... anything I can do to help?", soap shifts from one foot to the other.

"Not unless you got me some new knees. It's fine, Ghost, I'm still mission ready if that's what you're worried about. I actually had to redo the fitness tests once I healed up just to make sure I could still do my job."

"..."

"What?" Soap shifts hsi weight again

"... that's really.. not what I was asking about."

"Aye, well- what do you brits say- 'cheers, mate' I'm fine. Swear it."

"And that's why you're limping around?" Sure, maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but it's not technically inaccurate.

"I'm no' 'limping' around, and even if I was it's hardly noticeable. Why do you even care so much, it's no' you're problem." Soap sasses back.

"Well, I'd like to help if I can-"

"How? You gonna shout it outta me? There ain't shite you can do for it. Just leave it be, aye?"

"... fine, but I can help if you let me."

"Aye, I'll keep that in mind, thanks." And then he was walking away, off to do whatever he need to do before their mission.

Ghost makes a note to himself to ask about it again after they're back on base.

[scientia-rex]

Exciting updates in my life: my week of vacation has so far involved working physically in the house and or yard so hard that I’m in agony by bedtime. I have two modes, On and Off, and it’s been an On week, in large part because I’ve realized my thinning hair may well be due to my Wellbutrin so I’ve dropped the dosage and every time I change a psych med my anxiety goes bananas for weeks to months at a time. So instead of “relaxing” or “finishing one goddamn fic, what the fuck, me” I’ve (properly) removed the spare room’s asbestos popcorn ceiling and been forced to learn FAR more than I want to about ceilings and drywall given the state of what was covered up by the popcorn. Yesterday afternoon for a break from the Ceiling of Doom I cleaned the back deck that I couldn’t clean for a YEAR while we waited for the contractor to actually fix the dangerous structural instability. It took me four hours of continuous physical labor. There’s a lot wrong with me, but I AM getting biceps, which is delightful since I don’t like exercise per se and usually have the muscle tone of cooked linguine.

However! Tomorrow I’m going to sand down the joint compound I had to redo in a few places today after sanding the first time badly, and then! Then I shall prime it. Whenever that dries, time to attempt skim coating. Then realize I’ve failed and have to try that again one or two times before eventually sanding it again, priming it again, and finally, please God, painting it. Then painting the walls. Then painting, cutting mitered corners in, and gluing up the high density foam crown molding. Then yanking the carpets and learning how to lay vinyl flooring planks that will be impervious to the slings and arrows of senior dogs. It’s going to be a while. But one day, I will have that room in a condition where I can paint, miter cut, and install the baseboards. And after that? Build the FUCKING GUEST BED that has been IN BOXES IN THE GARAGE for TWO YEARS. over two years now! Jesus Christ.

I also finally managed to get rid of the plastic blinds I hated in the bedroom and put up curtain rods and curtains. And put up two bird feeders outside, including installing the hooks under the eves. I have been busy. Just not with writing. Also I’ve been deliberately avoiding tumblr bc it tends to make my mood worse rather than better; tragic. But sometimes I open the app and instead of checking notifications I just scroll and reblog and I can pretend that no one is being an asshole on the Internet.

[jevilowo]

TEAM ASCENDED FORTRESS 2

An AU by me in which the mercs ascend to their ultimate forms

Oh God tumblr wrecked the quality-

More about the AU under the cut!

WOKE SCOUT: she started taking estrogen and instead of fixing her it made her worse. She gets into fights on twitter about neopronouns and has successfully cancelled everyone she doesn't like at least once. However, as cancel culture isn't real, this only lasted about three seconds for each. She managed to pull Ms Pauling also which is pretty cool.

SOLDIERSUNE MIKU: the ghost of Shakespearicles told him to dress as Miku and redo the salem witch trials. Only knowing one witch (Merasmus), he finished this quickly and now roams the country with Zhanna (who is now Zhannagane Miku after Mikus metal counterpart) spreading malice and wonder through the power of AMERICAN SONG COVERS. He uses a wig for the Miku effect, but is working on growing his hair out also.

MITOSIS: Pyro and Engie were shagging one time and they came so hard they did mitosis. Now theres 23 babey Pyros (count em) and Engineer is a single dad. There's a lot of Pyro Mitosis Lore™ in my head, but the basics are that they evolve into either humanoid, beastial, demonic or celestial Pyros eventually.

TAVISH, KING OF THE LOCH NESS: he did it he blew up that bloody sea monster and now he is king of Loch Ness. The self loathing has died down a lot which is great for him but his body is still a scrumpty distillery which is eh. Still, he has funky water powers and his partners Soldiersune and Zhannagane come to visit often.

KEEPER OF TIME AND SPACE GUY: Heavy was mad, he knew he'd been had so he shot at the sun with a gun. Instead of being a show off like that bitch Juno, he had a nice philosophical conversation and chess match with Time and impressed Time so much he was appointed as the guardian of Time and Time's partner, Space. His guns (the six angel thingies pictured) can turn into celestial weapons which helps in the protecting but people don't shoot at the sun so often so its a relaxing enough gig really.

GODDAMMIT ENGIE: after realising how much more efficient Gunslinger was than a lame ass human hand, Engie succumbed to his hubris and eventually replaced all his body parts with robot parts. Including his dick which led to the Mitosis Incident. Anyway. His chest is a dispenser which makes projects pretty convenient and he has a mini-sentry attached to each arm and leg, making him a walking weapon. This did not help with the god complex, but it helps with the single father thing.

THE INFERNAL DOCTOR: Medic kept attaching more souls to his own and selling them to Satan for power. Satan got so sick of this eventually he attempted to beat the shit out of Medic. By now Medic was slightly more powerful than Satan so this ended with Medic absorbing Satan's powers and basically taking his place. Somehow, his relationship with the guy who is now a celestial being was unaffected by this. If they really tried they could probably ascend even further. To godhood, perhaps. In any case, Medic becoming The Devil from The Bible did nothing for the god complex.

???: Sniper just kind of fucked off into the woods one day god knows what happened to him but Scout's convinced she saw him for like three seconds a week ago and "YOU GUYS HE HAD ANTLERS I SWEAR-"

RETIRED AND BECAME A FUNCTIONING MEMBER OF SOCIETY SPY: yeah. He's very happy with Scout's Mother (Maureen), and he's letting his roots grow out (his spy agency made him dye his hair black). He's even making an effort to be a good parent to Scout, bought her the trans flag ipad cover and everything, but she just keeps trying to cancel him. Maureen's sure they'll work it out between themselves eventually, but until then she has to keep finding more secure hiding places for the ipad (the best so far was the time she buried it under a tree a mile away, took Scout at least four hours to find and retrieve it that time)

There's also YURI MS PAULING, in which she pulled a whole polycule of beautiful women, but I'll cover her in another post.

Also TERFS DNI please. Woke Scout is just Scout being Scout (which is to say a bit stupid), and assuming all trans women are like that would be ridiculous. So fuck off.

[courtingchaos]

Blackberry + Smash

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: Oh my god, it's your little day date! I wonder if he'll like your choice of nails?

Word Count:6.3k

A/N: Part 2 to Blackberry, still for @newlips milestone of love! I broke these up because I was having a hard time reading it all together and this part got, well, too long honestly. However it's fun and dirty just how we all like it. (18+ NSFW you know the drill)

The mirror in his bathroom isn’t lying to him, he sure is 32 and still has no idea how to dress himself. He’s gone through at least 6 versions of the same black outfit, only now realizing he owns nothing for a date. He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. 

Casual. It’s lunch, this ain’t rocket science and you’ve seen him covered in a multitude of stains and you still kissed him 9 days ago. 

Yes he’s counting, has counted every day. Every boba tea he’s left since, every carton of cookies has a little heart drawn on it with an ‘E’ in the middle. 

He wasn’t even this lovesick as a kid. 

Eddie gives himself a disgusted scoff before ripping off his faded Megadeath tee. He lets himself have a little tantrum, stomping his feet around and whining. Rolling his head back and forth. Couldn’t you two just slide under his sheets and roll around for the rest of eternity? Then he wouldn’t have to worry about fuckin’ clothes! There’s a yell building in his chest but Jeff is sleeping and he won’t wake him, not with a full Friday night ahead of him. Instead he stalks off to his room to root around some more, looking for something less faded when his phone pings. A message from you: ‘holy shit, am I actually ready on time? 🖤’, and a picture that he immediately taps on. 

It’s a mirror picture of your outfit. Black sweater, black pants, black shoes. 

Oh what a fucking pair you’ll make. Dour food service workers in their mourning best. 

He’s never been happier. 

This also sets his nerves at ease. He can look normal. On top of his pile of clean laundry he finds his Hideout shirt and his good Metallica hoodie. Has one last moment of asking himself if he’s still actually 16 before going back to the bathroom. 

Rings on, his pick and his Cuban link chain lay against his collar bones. Finds the matching bracelet and decides to wear the silver nose hoop and in the final glance he rolls his eyes. 

It’ll do.

He shoves the shirt and hoodie on, glances at the clock and sees 9:30 glowing up at him. He finds his jacket, grabs his keys and wallet and has enough time to pick up coffee for the two of you. 

You got nervous and decided to wait outside for him, the sun helping to edge off the chill of the morning. You’re scrolling through Instagram when the familiar sound of his truck pulls through the gate of your complex. Immediately it feels like your stomach is up in your ribs. You’d spent four fucking hours this morning getting ready, redoing your makeup three times before just settling on big wings and red lips. Classic, easy, and you were running low on makeup wipes really. You’d switched out jewelry enough you’d irritated the piercings, yet again settling on leaving in your medusa and just going with silver everything. In an attempt to calm yourself you’d sent the picture to Eddie, not really expecting him to reply. He did heart react to it though and that had sent you horizontal on the couch for a few minutes, kicking your socked feet around. 

He pulls up in front of you and before you can get a hand on the door he’s leaned over to push it open. You’re staring very obviously for a moment, eyes fixed on the ripped knees of his jeans where you can see a smattering of tattoos. You hadn’t given much thought to that. You knew about his arms obviously, had seen pictures of his chest and back pieces but no one had mentioned his legs. Eddie clears his throat and you immediately flush. He gives you a look and you prop a foot in to help push you up. Then you notice the two Dunkin coffees. 

“Did you get me iced coffee?” Surprise pitches your voice high, a little ‘oh!’ following when he holds up a small paper bag. 

“And a donut.”

“Eddie!” You reach over to grab the bag and also slap at his elbow. He just chuckles and watches you tear it in two, holding one side out to him. He can see the pink still tinging your cheeks. 

“I already had two.”

“Oh I see how it is.” A raise of your eyebrows and he tells you to put your seatbelt on. Asks for the address of your nail salon. 

“It’s gonna take a little while, I’m getting acrylics so. I don’t know if you want to hang around or not.” You say around a mouthful of donut. 

“Am I gonna be in the way?”

“I don’t think so, just depends on how busy they are.”

It’s busy as shit. Thankfully you have your appointment, so it’s just a waiting game for a station to open up. 

“There’s like, so many people in here.” He looks like a big worried puppy. “Do you mind if I wander over to the bookstore on the other side?” Eddie flicks his head at the front door. Across the parking lot is a Barnes and Nobel that you saw him eye when you parked. 

“Not at all.” A hand on his forearm with a gentle squeeze and he smiles down at you. What had Cate said? 

“You’re a simple for dimples.” Christ. 

“Text me when you’re almost done, okay?”

You nod, shooing him off towards the door. He’s slow going, waiting for you to turn around the corner to go look at polish colors. When he sees you disappear he rushes the front desk, the receptionist startling at his figure popping up. 

“Hey, your 11 o’clock with-“ he gestures over to you, mouthing your name to try to keep it quiet. “How much is her bill?”

“Well, she’s set up for a regular acrylic set and-“

He’s keeping an eye on you but wants to get out of here before you turn around again to find a seat. 

“Look, whatever the like, top tier thing is, I don’t know nails. Can I just pay ahead of time for that for her?”

“For the nails and the pedicure?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever it is. I’ve got the tip too.”

She hands him a small receipt and he only balks at the price because why is this shit so expensive? He made it a point to not have a band of cash on him today, trying to be a modicum of classy, so he pulls out three hundreds from his wallet and tells the receptionist to figure out the tip. Smiles and tells her to have a nice day. He darts out before you get a chance to sit.  

“Eddie.” The sound of your voice makes him pick his head up from his phone. You’re standing in front of the door to the salon, arms crossed and a pinched expression on your face. 

“Yeah?” He’s playing stupid. Only for you. 

“You really didn’t need to do that.”

A small smile pulls at his lips and he halfheartedly shrugs. 

“I’m serious! That was expensive.” Your laugh is exasperated but your not really mad. Just taken aback. First dates don’t pay for nails. 

“I know, that’s why I did it. You’ve been talking about these fuckin’ things for a week now. Figured I’d surprise you.” He puts his phone away to stare up at you from his seat on the bench. 

“Let’s see ‘em.” Eddie leans forward and holds out his hand expectantly. You twist away and playfully squint down at him, holding your hands clenched under your chin. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Oh come on, let’s see what my hard earned American dollars got you.” Laughing and reaching again but this time his hand drifts south, fingertips grazing the back of your thigh, gently pulling you back towards him. 

The little hitch in your breathing goes unnoticed but the blush flooding your cheeks doesn’t. His smile widens and he pulls you again, knocking your knee gently into the bench between his own. 

“Please?” Holds his other hand out, big palm facing up and you lower your own down to wiggle your fingers at him. Eddie let’s out a low whistle while he turns your hand around to look at the little gold stars dotting the matte black claws; turns it over to see the glittery red underneath. 

“Oh I’d say that’s worth it.”

“You like?” 

“Mhm. You get you’re toes done too?”

That makes you blush harder for some reason but you nod. He’s still holding your hand gently, like he’d lean in for a kiss to the back of it. 

“Yeah, same red color.” His other hand is resting fully against your leg now, thumb moving slowly back and forth over your knee. He glances down at your feet briefly, toes hidden in your shiny black loafers. 

“I bet that’s real pretty.” When he looks back up at your face, dark eyes framed by dark lashes and that damn smile pulling those dimples out, you look away quick. If anymore blood rushes to your face you’re bound to pass out. 

“Did uh, did you wanna like, grab lunch or something?” He’s got you stuttering while you look around the parking lot for a distraction. Anything to get your mind off of his hand still gripping the side of your thigh. 

Jesus suffering fuck. 

“Sure. There’s a ramen place up the road that’s pretty good.”

It’s a small restaurant, ten tables and a bar. It’s just the two of you for a while in the booth that Eddie asked for. He’s been tapping his foot against yours since you sat. 

“Are you playing footsie with me?”

“Maybe.” His grin is infectious. You jostle him back and it devolves for a few minutes until the waitress shows back up with your drinks and a knowing look on her face. 

Eddie notes how easy you blush. It’s been at least four times today and he’s only been around you for maybe three hours. He’s trying to recall any other time he might have seen it, but he doesn’t think you’d let that kind of thing slide at work. It’d be seen as a weakness or some shit you and Cate make up. 

He briefly wonders how far down your neck it goes. 

“So do you actually like cooking?” You ask as your food arrives, unwrapping your chopsticks and dumping and ungodly amount of togarashi into your ramen. 

“Yeah actually. My uncle taught me how to cook, he made it fun. It just kind of stuck around I guess.” He looks bashful, swirling his chopsticks around the bowl. You realize this is a whole side of Eddie you don’t know about. 

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

“Honestly? I really like smoking ribs. Wayne had this contraption he built himself out back of his trailer, and he’d make some real creations out there.” He sounds wistful when he talks about his uncle. He’s brought him up a few times but never really explained why he spent so much time with him. You don’t want to pry, but your interested in this home brew smoker now. 

“Please tell me it was like some 50 gallon drum deal.”

“Oh of course! He used to be a welder in the Army so he had all kinds of shit he made. Still has that grill too.” 

Eddie rambles for most of lunch, constantly trying to deflect back to you but you’re invested in this uncle of his. Wayne sounds like quite the guy. 

“So you lived with him till what, you were 23?”

“Yeah. I just wanted my own space and he also needed his own space. I have dinner with him once a week though. At least.” Eddie’s been rubbing his hand on the back of his neck for a few minutes and you’re starting to get the signal to stop mining for now. 

“I’d love to meet him.”

“Oh he’d love you.” That rolls off his tongue fast and you both laugh. “Maybe I’ll drag you to dinner next week. You can tell him all about your drive thru crazies.”

“Oh I’m sure we’d both love that.”

The check has been sitting on the table for 20 or so minutes and when he tucks his card in, after swatting your hand away, the waitress descends and disappears with the check.  He’s nervous again, twirling his rings around his fingers, leg bouncing. You’ve taken a minute to check your messages but under the table you slide a hand onto his bouncing knee. It stills immediately, the flash of a smile you shoot at him quelling any knots under his ribs. It’s such a small gesture, your hand warm on his knee. He’s already decided he’s kissing you again outside.

 

“This was fun, thank you again for my nails. Seriously.” 

He reaches out for your hand, tucks his fingers up under your knuckles to stare at the gold stars. He doesn’t let go, instead pulling you along behind him towards his truck. 

“Unless you’ve got other plans, we can find something else to do. I’ve got all day.” 

“Okay.” You say it so quick, looking for any excuse to stay around him. It’s only taken you this long for a single date, you might as well make it last. “Wanna see a movie?” 

When he stops at his truck he doesn’t unlock it, just leans back against the door and pulls your hand in against his chest. 

“Anything good playing?” He asks quietly, laying his hand over yours to lay flat against him. You fit right between his feet, boots bracketing your loafers. 

“I don’t uh…” Your stuttering, caught watching his eyes flit between yours. “I’m not sure.” You finish lamely. 

“Well, I’ve got all means of streaming at my place. If you want.”

A year ago with anyone else this would have made you scoff and push back, spell being firmly broken by even the implication of some form of Netflix and chill. 

Eddie though? Eddie makes it sound like the sweetest thing in the world. And who are you, presuming he’s even gonna try and put a move on you?

(You’ll be absolutely devastated if he doesn’t.)

The warmth of him is enveloping you, the spice of his cologne and the last cigarette he had drawing you further in just before his hands do the same. Big palms cradle the sides of your neck, thumbs resting on your cheeks and he leans in. 

His lips are plush and warm and you tuck up close to him, arms squished between the two of you. His fingers inch up into your hair, holding your head, keeping your lips to his and honestly? Honestly. 

How dare he be so good at this and keep it from you for so long. You thought he liked you and he’s been depriving you of his lips parting and running his tongue over your own and-

“Ed.” You break the kiss, breathless and face hot but you’ve only got eyes for him. His pupils blown wide in the bright daylight, you can see a frown starting between his brows. “No, hey I’m not-this is great. Can we get in the truck?” It’s almost one long word of a sentence but he understands. You’re around to the passenger side before he’s even closing his door, your hand over the center console to grab his bicep and pull him over to you.

In the confines of the cab, kneeling on the seat so you can grab his hoodie and it’s your turn to pull him in. The little sound he lets out almost sounds like a whimper and it just makes you all the more confident. It’s your tongue running along the seam of his lips, the curve of a smile before he opens and lets you in. He taste like the mango mochi you two shared and your hands run up into his hair to keep him close. 

This is all you’ve been thinking about since he kissed you last week, waiting for another moment to lay your lips on him. It’s a few minutes of heavy kissing and his hands just under the edge of your sweater; you still haven’t let his hair go yet. Eddie is the first to pull away though, eyes squeezed shut when he rests his forehead against yours. 

“We can go back to mine, uh if you want? We don’t have to I know I said that earlier but we can go out and see a movie-“ You press two fingers against his lips to silence him. 

“I want to.”

The ride to his apartment is quiet. He drops his hand on its new home in the middle of your thigh, fingers digging in a little bit every time he turns a corner. 

That blackberry has been picked and washed and fully eaten in earnest. 

His apartment isn’t what you expected honestly. It’s two men living together, so the neatness throws you off. Everything has a home it seems, unlike your own place that’s like a cozy disaster zone. 

“I like your place.” You say over your shoulder standing in the open living room. He’d busied himself with putting your jackets away and dropping his stuff into a tray on the counter. Now he’s just standing in the kitchen watching you inspect the bookcase by the TV. 

“Do you like bourbon?” 

You glance at your phone to see 4:30pm. 

“A little early for dark liquor.”

Eddie shrugs and pulls out two rocks glasses and a round bottle, little jockey stopper on top. 

“We hit some kind of goal or something and Stacy and her husband bought everyone in the kitchen really nice bourbon.” He pulls the seal. “Thought I’d hang on to it for a special occasion.”

“Is this a special occasion then?”

“Yes.” His smile is warm. Looks at the little topper for a moment before sniffing the bottle. 

“That kind of smells like Christmas.”

He pours less than a finger in each glass and slides one over to you. He’s not wrong, and after he fishes out an ice cube for you, it goes down smooth. 

Hip cocked into the counter top and nursing your tiny glass of stupid expensive bourbon, you listen to Eddie go in on all the deserts he could use this in. You had no idea he could bake too and you feel a little cheated after all those bakery bought cookies he’s brought you. 

“Oh you know what else,” he ducks into his fridge and pulls out a mason jar of dark syrup, “this might be blasphemy but I don’t care. Let me see your glass.” You hold it out and he uses a spoon to drizzle some of it in the dregs of your drink. “Thats a blackberry and rosemary syrup I made and- what?” Your laugh cuts through his words and the way his face lights up makes laugh more. A clearer sign from the universe, you’ve never had. 

“I just really like blackberries.” 

He does put something on tv eventually but neither of you pay attention. It murmurs in the background while you two talk and when the sun starts to stretch across the wall of his living room you climb over the cushion separating you and try valiantly to invade his chest. He’s cozy and warm and he tastes like that syrup he made. He says something about whiskey tasting good on you too and any inkling you may have had about leaving his place tonight goes firmly out the window. 

The couch is comfortable and him nosing at your neck, dropping lazy kisses up and down the length of it makes you melt. His hands are heavy in your hair and where they slide down to meet his lips along your neck. You’d finally gotten a hand under his shirt, skin hot and soft. You can feel the muscles flex under your touch and you find out on accident he’s ticklish when you’re skating your new nails back and forth over his happy trail and the weirdest giggle escapes him.

“Sorry.” He smiles shyly. 

You want to hear that sound again but he has other plans. Untangles your legs and stands up, holds out his hand to you again. 

Just over the threshold of his room he looks at you, fully sincere. 

“Is this okay?”

Yes yes yes yes yes yes

You nod and gently kick the door closed behind yourself. 

With that barrier to the outside closed Eddie descends on you. Backs you right up against the door and kisses the breath right out of your lungs. You hang onto his shoulders while he pulls your sweater off. It hits the floor and his hands are right back on you sliding up your sides to cup your tits through your lace bra. You’d worn the set in the hopes that this exact thing would happen. 

“How’d you know blue’s my favorite color?” He whispers against your mouth before diving right down to the swell of your breast and nips lightly. You suck in a gasp and he does it again to the other one, runs his thumbs over your nipples. Your trying your hardest to get your fingers to cooperate and pull at the hem of his shirt. 

“Worry about me later.”

“Eddie, please.”

“Wanna see you first, gorgeous.”

When his hands fall to your jeans you let out a whine that makes him look up at you. 

“You okay?”

“Yes just. Please don’t stop.”

He hurries then, pushes your jeans down and turns you both to walk to bed. When the edge hits your legs you lift one to crawl backwards, a finger hooked in his belt loop in an attempt to pull him with you. He rips his shirt off instead and it’s truly it’s insane how he just keeps getting hotter. The dark lines of his tattoos against his pale skin makes you pant. 

“Oh what the fuck.” 

“I was just about to say the same thing.” He sounds breathless. Eyes roaming to take in the matching underwear that clings to your body. The tattoo on your sternum that he had no idea about and the other two just under your collar. There’s dark lines wrapping around your hip that he’s going to dig his teeth into soon. He reaches and lightly runs a finger over your sternum before trailing it down your stomach and stopping at the elastic of your underwear. 

“You wear this for me?”

You nod. 

“Oh good.” 

You don’t think you’ve heard him this quiet ever. He’s all whispers and heavy stares, that finger tip that’s inching into your underwear making your heart rocket into your throat. You wrap your hand around his and pull him so he has to kneel on the bed too, inch his finger down further. 

“Eddie?”

“Hm?” It rumbles in his chest. You snake both arms up to wrap around his neck and bring him in to ghost your lips over his. 

“Touch me. Please.”

Of course he has silk pillowcases, you think to yourself when the side of your face is pressed into them. The cool material is slick against your hot cheek, Eddie’s big hand laying between your shoulder blades. He isn’t pushing you down into the mattress but the suggestion is there. 

Stay. 

You’ve ended up in the middle of his bed bent in half with him kneeling behind you, gentle hand pulling your knees apart. You’re blushing for a thousand and one reasons, mainly because you’ve never played this little game before. At first you’d tried to hide your face and he’d tutted at you, gently prying your forearm away. Now you’re just trying not to grip the pillow too hard, only partially conscious of your new nails. 

“Eddie.” Your muffled whine gets his attention and he leans forward, puts a little pressure on your back. Your eyes roll.  

“You okay?” His voice is dark next you, quiet and gravely and you clench around nothing, he hasn’t even touched your pussy yet. A garbled ‘uh huh’ gets past your lips and you can hear him grin, the bastard. 

He slides your underwear over your ass and down, tossing them into some corner of the room, swings his knee over your calf and knocks your leg out to side some more. Your hips drop and he sighs, his right hand coming to slide up the back of your thigh, gripping at the soft skin and over the swell of your ass. 

“I’ve been waiting months for this.” A low laugh, how can he laugh at a time like this. You try to sit up a bit, to give him an incredulous look but he holds you down. You don’t mean to let out the moan you’ve been holding in, but he knocks it out of you. Laughs. Again. 

“You didn’t have to wait months.” Muffled again by the pillow. 

“We were having fun. You’re a good chase.” He gives your ass a light tap and then grabs the flesh hard. You arch your back into his touch and he immediately lets go to graze his fingertips over your slit, dipping in between your folds. 

“Jesus your so wet,” he huffs through his nose, “this for me too?”

Of course it is. You’ve been wet for him since he picked you up in his stupid truck, looking too good in his stupid jeans and big hoodie. Since he grabbed your thigh and asked about your god damn toes.Since the couch and his weird giggle. 

You’d like to be a smart ass and list off all the ways he’s driven you crazy just that day, but instead you just whimper. 

“Hmm?” He dips a finger down to circle your clit agonizingly slow. It sends a burning jolt through you and you cant your hips back to chase his touch. 

“Yes, oh my god!” It comes from deep in your chest, voice low and full of want. Every time he’s come in to visit you, hanging over the partition to joke and flirt at you. His little touches at the bar, a hand always lingering on your lower back or fingertips dragging over a knee. That drunk kiss in the parking lot of the bar a week ago. 

All you’ve done is want for months now. You’re about to bully your way into sitting up when he leans down and places a wet kiss on your shoulder. Drags the hand there down to your lower back, still splayed wide and warm. It makes you pause and he uses that minor distraction to easily slide two fingers deep in your cunt. 

It punches the air out of any argument you were trying to start, hands searching for something to grip. One finds his thigh and he still has his god damn jeans on? 

The slow drag of his fingertips inside you makes your mouth hang open. They’re big and you’ve been worked up since you woke up this morning so it just feels too good. 

Actually that’s a lie, you’ve been worked up since that first day he walked into the cafe with Jeff, all jokes and pretty eyes and no idea if he even liked coffee. Some dumb espresso joke later and you’d been stupid for him. 

Kind of like now, with one of his hands holding your back in an arch while his other moves at a torturous pace in and out, the wet sound of you sinful in the space of his room. 

“Do you know many times I thought about inviting you back here after the bar?” You roll your head back and forth, hiding your face under your hair. 

“Every time I gave you a ride I thought about it.” He enunciates his line with a particularly deep prod of his fingers, bringing his thumb to circle your clit again. “Coulda just bent you over my lap and shoved my fingers in, huh?” You clench down, files that little thought away for later. He gets his free arm up under your chest so he can hold you to him. Lays his weight against your back when he picks up the pace of his fingers and the strangled cry coming from you makes him even harder in his jeans. He peppers kisses along your shoulders, noses your hair out of the way so he can nip at the back of your neck. When he licks a stripe up to your ear he feels your strings cut, the chanting of his name sounding like music. 

“I gotcha baby. You gonna come for me?”

You’re nodding, whining his name, breath hitching in your chest. Between his thumb tracing hard and his fingers dragging against that sweet spot inside your eyes water and you grab at the back of his head, nails digging into his curls. The feeling building low is white hot where it creeps down and makes your legs shake. Pinned down under him you try to chase his hand with your hips, looking for that edge of relief and it’s just out of reach until it’s not. 

His chin is hooked over your shoulder so he can mouth at the side of your face while you go rigid under him. He’s still moving his fingers while you spasm around him and jesus christ he can’t wait to fuck you, plain and simple. 

“Breath baby, come on.” He whispers into your ear when he realizes you’ve been holding your breath. You let out a low groan that turns stuttering when he doesn’t relent with his thumb on your clit. 

“Eddie I can’t- too much!”

He ‘aww’s’ at you playfully but slows down his hand, only pulling out when you’ve regained some kind of normal breathing. Cuddled up behind you, face still close to yours where your breath fans over his cheek he leaves a wet kiss on yours and the toothy smile he sees in the waning light makes him feel warm. 

“Knew you’d be worth the wait.”

You slap his arm as he rolls off the bed to stand. The clink of his belt buckle makes you turn your head against the pillow to stare at him. His eyes don’t leave yours while he undoes the button and fly to push them down off his hips. He leaves his boxers on and before he can climb back on the bed you sit up in front of him, hug his thighs with your knees. From here you can look up at him and map the tattoos across his chest and over his shoulders down to his fingers. It’s past sunset now and the purple fading light does nothing but make his pale skin glow under all that dark ink. You pull his own move on him from earlier, tracing the tip of your nail up the back of his thigh. He shivers, leg jumping and when you firmly run both of your palms under the edge of his boxers he smiles down at you. 

“Tryin’ t’get fresh?”

“Maybe.” Sucking in your bottom lip to bite at it, you bring one hand around and run it down the flat plane of his stomach to the band of his underwear. 

“Can I?” A whisper and his eyes go half lidded, pupils dark and wide under his lashes. An almost too quiet ‘yeah’ and you tug the fabric down to free him. 

You must be making a face because he chuckles and runs a finger down your jaw. When you look back up at his face you grip the base of his dick and he hisses low, run your hand up the length of him to watch his head loll back. He’s big, thick and flushed red, the fat head of his cock hot against your palm. Damn near salivating you run the flat of your tongue up the underside of him, to the tip before fully wrapping your lips around him and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie is making a lot of noises you’ve never heard before, one’s that you want him to keep making but only after a few bobs of your head and hand he’s gently pulling your head back where’s he’s laced his fingers in your hair. 

“If you don’t want this to be over in five seconds, I’d suggest we stop that.”

“You get too excited?” Frowning at him you make a move to grab him again he crowds you instead, makes you crawl back towards the middle of the bed. He shuffles across to settle between your propped up knees and tosses a wrapper on your stomach. 

“How romantic Munson.”

“You wanna touch my cock so bad, you put it on.” His forwardness shuts you up. You tear the wrapper open in a rush, grab him again and give his dick a few tugs before rolling the condom down. His thumbs rub little soothing circles on your knees until you pull your hand away and he’s hauling your legs up to wrap around his waist. Pulls you to him with hands in the crook of your knees and he’s cradled in your hips, rocking his own forward to rub the tip of his cock along your folds. Catches it on your sensitive clit and you yelp. His frown is mocking yours from a moment ago, tilts his hips and does it again.

“Aw, honey is that too much?”

“Eddie I swear to god I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” He pulls back enough to line up, gives you one last chance to say something before he eases in. Slow drag until he’s fully seated against you and you both moan in unison. “That’s what I thought.” Your warm around him everywhere; thighs hugging his hips, hands running up his chest. 

“Jesus Christ you feel amazing.” 

The fluttering of your walls around his cock is doing nothing for his stamina, coming to terms with himself that this might not last long. 

That’s fine, you weren’t leaving tonight. 

The look on your face, eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open, makes him roll his hips to watch you squirm. He starts a slow rhythm, grabbing the cups of your bra and pulling down to let your tits free. When he pinches one between his knuckles you keen and arch your back. He does it again to hear that high sound and he picks up his pace, drilling deeper and making you chant his name again. 

“I can’t believe I waited this long for you baby, you feel so fucking good for me.” He pulls your legs from around him to push them up towards your chest, canting your hips with them to get at you deeper.  

“Eddie Eddie Eddie.” It’s high pitched and whiney and music to his ears. He can feel you pulsing around him like you were earlier. Props one of your legs on his shoulder to get his hand between the two of you to rub fast circles over your swollen clit.  

“You gonna come again?”

“Yes fuck, please don’t stop Eddie!” 

His hips snap against your ass and with every push your letting out a stuttering moan. Watching your lips form around his name, panting and pawing at your own chest, your hand around the back of his neck and long nails scratching against the sensitive skin brings everything to a pinpoint. His hips begin to stutter when you clench around him, your no slick coating your thighs and his fingers and his cock and it’s all it takes for him to bury himself deep. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He’s muttering, slowing his movement and rocking the two of you through the aftershocks, running a soothing hand up your leg still on his shoulder. 

“Come here.” Hands splayed to beckon him, cheeks pink and flushed, hair stuck to your sweaty forehead he thinks he might be falling in love after all these months. He’ll keep that to himself for now. Instead he pulls out and discards the condom over the side of the bed. Drops his weight on you, a huff from you and a smile pushed against your chest from him. The light touches from the tips of your nails make goosebumps pop up along his back where you gently rake your nails. 

It’s a while before either of you move and it’s only to get under the covers when the cooling sweat makes you cold. Eddie holds the corner up to help you get situated but holds out a hand when you try to tuck your feet in. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He snatches one of your feet to bring up closer to his face, making you bend weird and squeal. It tickles but he won’t let go, looking at your toes the way he did your nails earlier. 

“Eddie, seriously!”

“I knew they were pretty.” He places a light kiss on the outside arch of your foot and you wrinkle your nose. It tickles and it’s cute and his hand is warm on your cold foot. He only lets go to run a hand up the back of your calf to pull you under the covers where he drapes himself over you, hair curtaining and smothering you in him. 

In the middle of the night, after Jeff comes home and deftly ignores the scene left in the living room and you’ve gotten up to use the bathroom and rinse your mouth out you cuddle back up to Eddie’s side and wait for him to turn his head and look at you. 

“Hey, you wanna call in sick Sunday?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you can be my plus one for the wedding.”

“Cutting it a little close, no?”

“It’s my aunt, she won’t care.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Then we can get you one tomorrow.”

“It’s a date.”

[scribble-brain-aced]

ways that the crew’s demon forms really screwed up their lives:

-angel has knocked over way too many things with his four arms. it’s all fun and games until you accidentally throw the plate away and put the napkins in the sink because you weren’t paying attention.

-the amount of times husk has shed all over his clothes.. you don’t wanna know.

-heat vision is useful, yes, but pentious just CANNOT tell what color something actually is. what do you mean, the red door. can you just tell him what temperature it is? WHAT DO YOU MEAN.

(does this make sense??? i really hope so-)

-you wouldn’t think alastor’s tiny antlers could do anything, but do you have any idea how many shirts he’s accidentally ruined? all the sweaters that are now piles of thread?

-angel and niffty are allergic to bug spray. this is why niffty has to kill them all manually.

-alastor just. CANNOT walk on ice. it’s a death sentence. not that he actually cares, because the weather being anything below 65 degrees F is incomprehensible to his southern mind. but hell is way too cold in the winter. he’s fucked.

-some spiders can sense cameras because of the LEDs or something. angel is no exception. he’s had to redo a LOT of scenes because he keeps whirling back to stare at the camera soullessly.

-there is an ongoing battle over the thermostat: for pentious and alastor, warm weather is a MUST for them, but angel and husk have thick fur, which means no. it will never end.

-guess what, cats are actually lactose intolerant. fun. well, goodbye, ice cream. husk misses it.

-also, wings. this is why husk has to walk around shirtless. and vaggie’s been wearing he same shirt for the past 5 days because she keeps forgetting to cut slits in the back of her shirts.

-the amount of things you need legs to do. the time charlie had them do yoga for ‘mindfulness’? no. the dance that alastor hosted? alas, no. the skating rink niffty took them to? jumping? the fucking stairs, which is the only way to his room? (add a fucking elevator, charlie. please. he’s begging you.)