#Jingles usually doesn't wear it when he's not working

[steddiewithachance]

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

[larcenywrites]

My Little Animal

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW | rough sex | unprotected p in v | lots of foreplay! | biting (with tongue and fangs!) | collaring (Logan) | growling | smelling??? | calling Logan an animal (affectionately!!) | feral Logan??? | oral (F receiving) | Not really Dom!Reader but not exactly Dom!Logan either? | maybe the real Dom in this fic is just the love we made along the way :) | I guess I ended up using the taller hugh jackman version of wolverine for this sorry short king Logan 😔 | no real plot just lots of porn with an intro | some HCS for collaring here

Word count: ~2,400

A late night was normal around here, and a late night waiting up for Logan was hardly newsworthy. Neither were the heavier-than-usual drag of boots outside the door, nor the irritated huff after he closed the door a little too carefully.

Your eyes are drawn from the book in your lap to the larger man sitting on the end of the bed, back to you. Remaining silent, you watch him, his hand scratching through his beard and through the hair on the back of his neck. His tension is obvious in his movements, and more obvious in the tight muscles of his back as he pulls his white tank over his head, tossing it aside with a huff.

"Tough day?" You finally break the silence, trying not to let your tone hint at the longing in your eyes as you ogle.

"Always," he only replies gruffly, making you huff with an irritated amusement. You continue to eye him from your spot, deciding not to scold him this time for wearing his suit's yellow and blue pants on the bed. This time.

"I think you're just being dramatic," you softly tease, placing your book on the bedside table. With a disgruntled grunt of disagreement, Logan bends to work on getting his boots off, bare shoulders just inviting you to touch them. Shrugging the covers from your lap, you shuffle across the mattress to his seated form, eager to slide your palms over his heated skin. There's no reaction even when you nuzzle into his neck, the only sounds being the thump of boots being tossed aside and the rustling of fabric as he removes his pants. And those black boxer briefs didn't leave much to the imagination when he kicked the yellow and blue fabric aside, his flaccid bulge moving with his thigh.

You knew he could pick up your spike in arousal at the sight, and you could feel the elevation of his heartbeat when you hooked your arms under his to rest your hands on his chest. It was only when he felt your tongue on the shell of his ear that he finally reacted, a low growl vibrating through your hands and chest where you pressed against him.

That was really all you needed to know.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling away from his tense form. Instead, you roughly thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling more low rumbles from his chest. Like a grumpy ball of putty in your hands, he lets you push his head down, chin to chest. Just another little push, and he lowered himself, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He sighs heavily when you steal your touch from his hair, but it's far from one of relief. His cheek tilts your way as you shuffle over the sheets again, listening as you move back to the nightstand.

You can't hide anything from him. He knows which drawer you open. He knows what's in it. He knows what it means. Yet he still doesn't move when your hand pets over his neck. You could practically feel him bristling with excitement. For being so tense and stubborn, he always allows you to bind his neck with the collar. You wrap the brown nylon fabric around his throat with care, its gunmetal gray fastens jingling as you fix the buckle, keeping it loose just the way he likes it.

Wrapping a few fingers around the now-fitted collar, you carefully tug it up towards you, keeping his head down while your nails scratch over his scalp. Another soft growl makes you smile. Stepping off the bed next to his kneeling form, you drag his collar with you, the rough fabric sliding over his skin as you stand in front of him. You continue your petting, letting him adjust to his new headspace until he finally leans further into your grasp, nuzzling against your bare thigh and resting his cheek against your skin with a growly sigh.

"There's my little animal," you coo, tightening your grip on his hair and abruptly tugging the collar up, making him face up at you, your knuckles against his jaw. Logan's mouth parts in a silent moan, lip curled in a silent snarl. He narrowly eyes you through his lashes as your thumb pushes his bottom lip down and leans obediently into the rough petting on the side of his head. The pad of your thumb presses into the point of his fang and is met with his eager tongue, languidly lapping and swirling over the digit.

You take your hand from his hair to trace fingers over his lips, watching him close his eyes in ecstasy as he laps at your other fingers. Tongue and lips press against your palm in a sort of kiss before fangs gently bite into the soft flesh between your thumb and finger. You know they're just itching to get that tension out, and what better way than guiding that bite down to your thigh. He eagerly latches on, exploring the skin of your thigh with scraping fangs and long licks while bringing his hands to hold the backs of your thighs in a bruising grip.

You can't help but finally moan at his feral-ish nature, holding onto the back of his collar while threading through the thick curls on the back of his neck, encouraging more of those sharp nibbles and wet trails drifting closer to the inside of your thigh. He can't help but taste the softer skin beneath his tongue several times before sinking his teeth in just a bit harder, growling low in response to your moan.

Your grip on his hair tightens in surprise as he noses against your panty-covered clit, cheeks feeling flushed at the sound of him inhaling the scent of your arousal straight from the source. Fangs press ever-so-gently into your mound as his tongue finally meets your sensitive bud, swirling over the fabric and massaging deeply the more the mix of his saliva and your slick dampened the thin material that hardly kept you separated.

You desperately clench around nothing when he pulls back, teeth bringing your panties with him as his fingers tightly grip around the band and impatiently tear them from your legs with ease. There's no time to think about scolding him before your knee is forced onto his shoulder, falling into an awkward angle against him as his lips devour you again.

"Oh fuck, Logan," you sigh, only able to claw at his shoulders while firm hands pull you into him. His hot breath fans over your sensitive flesh as he practically pants, cleaning up the arousal pooled at your core and his nose bumping against your clit. The only noises in the room are your mixed panting and the crude lapping sounds from between your legs, supplemented by the low, warning growls every time the prickle of his beard causes you to twitch away. The same prickling friction that drags through your folds as his tongue meets your clit again, leaving your legs trembling in his grasp with every swipe. He knows you're close-- he can smell it, hear it in your whimperish panting, feel it in the way you try to grind on his tongue. It only spurs him on, tilting his head against your thigh as if to settle in while he pushes you closer to the edge.

It isn't long before your nails dig into his hair and pull him closer, and your legs awkwardly tensing and closing against him as you finally come on his tongue. He laps deeply at your over-sensitive bud several more times to ride you through it before attacking your entrance again, drinking your essence like a starved animal. Every brush of his beard and nuzzle against your clit becomes far too much to keep handling as he continues, but there's no escape from his grip on you. Wrapping your hand around the collar, you try to tug him away, only met with a deep rumble that borders between a growl and a moan, hot breath fanning over your core again. He was as stubborn as he was greedy, knowing well that he was far too strong for you to pull him away, especially from between your legs. Maybe he even enjoyed the rough material of his collar threatening to choke him.

"Logan, please," you plead breathily, thumbs hooked around the collar. As if to make a point, he deeply laps at you several more times before turning to sink his fangs into your thigh in aggravated obedience with a low growl that gently rumbles against your skin. He keeps his teeth in your leg even while you lower your knee from his shoulder and holds onto you while you recover for the moment. But only for a moment.

The sharp prick of fangs finally leaves your thigh, only for them to brush across your tummy with a wet lick as he nuzzles under your shirt. Your fingers brush over the tense hands that grip your thighs, feeling those claws flex beneath his skin, naturally responding to their owner's pent-up emotion and energy in the only way they ever knew how. He's obviously still unsatisfied, raging to let loose. You're jolted from that thought as he bites into the soft side of your waist, licking over his bite in a soothing way. Helping him out, you slip your shirt over your head, tossing it aside like every other piece of clothing. Without a word, he gets to his feet, taking it as his cue to lick his way between your breasts and into the crook of your neck.

He roughly pulls your hips flush to his, his chest practically heaving from the deep inhale he takes from where he stays buried in your neck. He's never been one for subtleties, especially not when those hips start to hungrily rut into yours, and his hard-on, hardly hidden in his briefs, is straining for attention. Grinding with him, you hook your thumb beneath the burlap brown band as your fingers tangle through the dark locks of hair on the back of his neck.

"You're not very good at this taming thing," he finally breaks his silence with a cocky grumble, pressing his lips to your cheek. At his comment, your hand wraps around the front of his collar again, knuckles to his throat.

"Good thing I don't want to tame you," you softly sass back, turning to meet his lips and tracing them with your tongue. He shows off his fangs with a low growl, grip tightening on your thighs before he roughly hoists you up to wrap around his waist. It's only seconds for him to spin around and plant your back on the bed, his much heavier form coming down with you, wasting no time to ravish your throat with sloppy kisses and lovebites.

You can only tilt your head back and moan softly to the ceiling, much to his purr of approval as he continues his assault, even while awkwardly shuffling between your legs to rid his too-tight boxers. You know he's finally done it when the heat of his cock presses at your entrance and a hand pushes a thigh aside to give him more room to work with. Despite still being soaked from your romp just minutes ago, he's still not the easiest fit when he pushes into you, mirroring you with lips parted in a silent moan and eyes screwed shut. Even with the sting of your nails in his bicep, he keeps sinking into you, giving you no time to adjust to the pleasurable burn of him filling you to the brim.

Cock sitting heavy against your cervix, Logan grinds you into the mattress, nestling back into your neck tongue first. Muscular arms cage your legs against his hips and his fists wrap into the sheets as he instantly ruts into you like an animal in heat. Once again, the only sounds filling the room are whimperish moans and heavy panting being outshined by the lewdness of how wet each thrust of his cock and each slap of his balls sounds against your soaked heat.

Hot breath fans over your skin with a low rumble when you pull at his hair, the growl vibrating from his chest through yours and only adding to the growing tension in your core. He lifts himself when you tense around him, bowed up above you as if in concentration and chest heaving with his wild panting. You look up at him through your lashes, a few dark strands hanging over his forehead and loose collar hanging over his collarbones. The sight alone could send you close to the edge, already throbbing around him, but you needed him close again.

Dark eyes flicker to you at the feel of your hand on his chest, playing through the thick body hair there before wrapping around the burlap brown band hanging from his throat. He obediently lets you pull him down with the little strength you have left, his own hips faltering as you pull his face into your chest. He moans low, tongue lolling against your skin as he picks up the pace again, hips stiff and fists tight around the sheets. He's just as close as you are, but his deep and well-aimed thrusts are determined to get you there first.

He can smell it, hear the soft whines from your chest and feel your legs squirm under his arms, and groans deeply at how tightly you clench around his cock and hold his face to your chest as you come around him. His steady pace finally slows, stilling as deep as he can within you and cumming with a low growl. He keeps you caged and pressed into the mattress, panting hotly against you. Your fingers gently play with his hair while you come down, other hand still holding onto the collar while he gently nuzzles and rubs his face between your breasts, as if you didn't already smell like every part of him.

After several moments, he finally lifts himself from you, pulling out from your messy core and wasting no time going down on you, savoring the mixed scents of your essences and greedily cleaning you up. With a gasped-out moan, you tug desperately at his hair, only being answered with that possessive growl that means he isn't letting you go anytime soon.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Logan adjusting to this new timeline, becoming sober, and Wade somehow finding Logan's dog tags. ~4k words.

(Tw: Logan's a depressed recovering alcoholic with survivor guilt, unofficial proposal, canon usual implied sex jokes, Logan tries to flirt but fails)

To my wife. Who's halo lit up my dark life to see just how many doors were available to me when I couldn't see them myself<3

He offers him his to wear as a cutesie matching necklace type of thing but Logan is hesitant to take them, scared of what will come of it. He does it anyway though because he sees how happy Wade is wearing his.

What he refuses to tell him though is that just hearing the tags jingle makes him jump, flinch, his heart rate rises, and his mind floods with scenes he's worked so hard draining every bar he could find dry just so he could forget.

For me, I, too, am a man with deeply rooted animal instincts and was raised to behave like an obedient pet instead of the animal they made me.

An animal trained to take orders. A soldier without his post is miserable and constantly is either trying to find it again or defend himself from ever having to go back to a post to begin with.

You aren't good enough for them if you obey what they say and excel past the standards. But you aren't good enough if you question their authority and make choices for yourself either. Hoizer comes to mind.

Running with the bulls

Working my miracles

Holding my world together with a boot string

His night terrors are worse, more frequent, constantly a battle between wanting to protect and defend the less fortunate to saying, 'No, I'm done with that. It's none of my business, It’s someone else's problem now.'

He wakes up screaming, claws drawn, every possible sense he has to run activated, panting, gasping almost for air. He's panting, heaving deep but quick breaths, all of the hairs on his arms raised like a cat who just heard a dog barking after having gotten attacked as a kitten.

Living the dream

Benzos and gasoline

Coffee and blue light screens till the morning

He wakes to the sunlight in his face, gets up, stretches, takes his Valium. Eats some toast, calls it breakfast, gets dressed for his weekly AA meeting. The moment he steps inside it smells like Gasoline. Sweet honey scented lies that he hates to admit that he knew all too well. ‘It was only one’ ‘I asked for a virgin one but they brought me the wrong one’ ‘I'm trying, I really am..it's just.. hard’ He's heard them all before but the last one he could relate to the most.

Coming home at night, Logan puts his face into the back of his partner's neck, hugging him from behind as he offers to watch a cowboy movie marathon with him. He barely eats, only taking what Wade gives him or shoves in his mouth like the now spilled popcorn that was all over the ground, His boyfriend sprawled out on the couch while the “Dvd” bounces back and forth on the blue screen.

Wade never likes it but recently he's been drinking coffee at night, pacing back and forth as he searched online for a job. Kept himself far from the nightmares that were trying to catch up with him.

If I tell you this is drowning

You tell me I'm walking on water

I could bring fire from the mountain

You tell me it feels a little colder

Everyone was telling him how good he was doing, how well he was adjusting, how happy they were that he was here and yet.. He didn't feel like he deserved it. Any of it. Not the second chance, not the love and support of all his new family, not the affection from the man who whispered how proud of him he was each night..

It doesn't help his mental status when multiple jobs reject him either. Interviews don't exactly go that well when you have claws for hands and a reputation for having a temper.

“I'm sorry we're looking for someone with more… experience.. in this field. You need an entry level job.”

“Woah dude! You are WAY too qualified to be working here! you should try looking for something higher up, yeah?”

“I'm sorry. You're too much of a liability.”

“Oh my god- You're the Wolverine!”

“Yes.. but uhm.. No.. I'm just Logan now.”

“Wait, why are you applying here? This is a cashier position.”

“I'm aware..”

“Aren't you like… an X-men?”

“N-no… not anymore.”

“Oh… Did they fire you?”

“I quit.”

“Why?”

“Are.. these questions part of the interview?”

What kind of man was he if he couldn't even get a damn job at McDonald's? It felt useless. Like everybody wanted something different from him, but no one was happy either way. Never pleased with his resume or his reputation. You would think being an ex X-man would make it easy. Of course someone would want to hire a superhero? Right? Wrong.

I don't wanna

Choose between being a salesman or a soldier

Just let me look a little older

It seemed everyone wanted him to rejoin the X-men and as much as he missed that mansion upstate, it wasn't his. So many times he's been told stories about himself that he didn't even remember …well.. because it wasn't him. They wanted The Wolverine.

Their Wolverine.

Not Logan.

There was always that spot at the dealership with Peter. Now that Wade was back on his role with mercenary stuff and doing more “Favors” with Colossus, Negasonic and Yukio, that position was open. Part of him- No. Scratch that. All of him was happy for Wade. He seemed to be enjoying life so much more now that he felt he had purpose. But what was his purpose? Selling cars?? Definitely not. Even if it was, they were looking for something else anyway.

“It says here that you are 286 years old. Is that a typo?”

“Oh- uhm… No..”

“I see…Well we are currently looking for someone… younger.. to fill that spot. Sorry.”

But they were never actually sorry. He could smell it.

Coming home from the failed hunt, he felt like an older lion losing its pride to a younger male lion. Well- if lions could develop arthritis in their knees and hands. Once a day he'd pop out his claws, just to keep them ready though he felt like he hadn't used them in such a long time… Maybe he really was turning into an old house cat like wade said.

Sitting in their shared bedroom, he was grumbling to himself, grunting as he tried to get his claw unstuck. This wasn't the first time they locked up and he feared it wasn't the last either.

He snapped his head up at the sound of tags. Around the corner came who he expected, Wade, quickly hiding his hand under the blanket. Coming in, his eyes widened.

“Woah wolvie! Without me? Really? I would have gladly done it for you.”

At first Logan wanted to thank him for offering to help before quickly realizing that from how his hand was under the blanket, it did look suspiciously like adult alone time.

“T-that's not… no.”

“M'kaay. If you say sooo~”

“H-how uhm.. How was work?”

Watching as he began to grab shower clothes and take off his mask, He smiled.

“Oh you know! Watching the life drain from peoples eyes and what not as they beg for their life! The usual.”

“Oh.. that's.. fun?”

“Extremely liberating stuff.”

Watching as he began to strip, He swallowed, wishing he'd leave already so he could finish shoving the claw back into his skin.

Let me step a little bolder

I don't wanna

Choose between being a butcher or a pauper

“You wanna take a shower with me?” He asked, Beginning to walk around butt naked in nothing but his tags.

“U-uhm… No. No thanks, I had one this morning.”

“D'awwww what? Worried i'll see your peanuts? News flash baby, I've had those things down my throat! And I will say. They're better salty anyways~”

All this teasing changed his monotone face into a small goofy smile as he came close, crawling up into his lap, taking hold of his cheeks as he kissed his nose.

“What's wrong? Did you not get the job?”

He was so envious of how he could say such dirty things. Wade was so confident and yet so shy about his face. It made him think of when he was that confident in himself too. (Probably overly confident if we're being honest) Oh that was so many years ago… he'd never get that back. And honestly? He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Logan said nothing but it was all the answer wade needed.

“I see. Well you'll get’em next time, Right?”

He looked away. Ashamed. Here Wade was, being overly supportive, giving him everything, and still he couldn't find a single happy bone in his body.

Shifting his leg to reassure him more, His knee was placed on the claw, yipping. “Ouch!”

“Sorry! I… I can't.. i-it won't..”

And on top of all that, he just hurt him. Man he sucked at this. All of it. Every little bit of it.

Pulling his hand away, Logan's eyes looked over Wade just as quick as it happened, Trying to see if he was bleeding only to jolt.

“Hey- shh.. Calm down. You're alright.” Grabbing his wrist, he carefully moved the tags that had gotten stuck on the claw.

“What's got you all riled up, Kitty? The interview couldn't have been that bad.”

But what he didn't know is that it WAS that bad.

Instantly Logan broke down, breaking heavily as he began to sob, gritting his teeth as he put his non-stuck hand on his face, wanting to hide. He felt pathetic. Useless. Weak. All of the things he fought not to be.

“Ooh, Honey come her-” Wade reached a hand out, trying to console him only to be shoved away.

“Don't!! I-.. I'm tired of hurting people! That's not who I want to be!”

“Baby cakes, it was an accident-”

“No!! Eveyone wants the Wolverine until the fucking wolverine is actually acting like the Wolverine!” He shouted, trying not to choke on his own tears.

Tilting his head, Wade blinked as if he wasn't aware of what he was talking about, but why would he? Logan hasn't told him anything negative for the past 2 weeks. Keeping it all bottled up, trying to push it deep down but that wasn't him. He couldn't handle it anymore.

“Everyone just keeps saying I should join the X-men again and i-” Wilson put his hands on his shoulders, looking at him with the most serious he has ever been in his entire life.

“Logan, If that's what you want we'll make it work. It's only an hour drive, and i'm sure I could visi-”

“Wade!! Shut. Up! I don't…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he began to apologize, whispering he was sorry for yelling at him.

“I-it's not your fault.. I.. I don't..”

Wade was patient, Nodding, encouraging him to open up with his words. He knew when it was time to zip it and let him talk. Now was one of those times. It was his turn to listen.

“I don't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to fight to begin with but… It's the only thing I'm good at. I'm not good at anything else.. My whole life I've just been jumping team after team and they all eventually die or I just get kicked out for not understanding the power of team work or whatever. Hell, I've been through three different wars and every single time I ran away! Like a damn dog with its tail between its legs! All except the times I was TOLD to run and I didn't. Fuck, Wade! 3 fucking wars and I can't even take orders right!!”

Honey, I'm taking no orders

Gonna be nobody’s soldier

It was now Wade's turn to try to stifle a laugh, snorting as he covered his mouth.

“What's so fucking funny?! That your boyfriend is a sad pathetic loser who can't even get his hands to listen to him!?”

Now he burst out laughing, starting to giggle.

“You're over here talking about not being able to take orders and not being good enough for a team while talking to the same guy who can't even GET on a team and was kicked out of Canadian special forces because I didn't listen to a single thing they said! And you think I care if you ‘can't take orders’ ??” He said this last part in a mocking tone, trying hard to be serious but couldn't.

Logan's eyebrows scrunched with a skeptical glare, tears still dripping down his face, feeling embarrassed and stupid.

Cupping his face again, Wade smiled ear to ear, their foreheads together. “You're much dumber than the comics make you out to be if you think I'd care about anything like that. You honestly think I'd care if you don't want to be anyone's soldier? Why do you think I'm my own boss? The world isn't built for guys like us, baby. And if you wanna open a coffee shop or- pursue your dreams of photography, or hell! Even bird watching for all I care, I will still love you. We will make it work. No matter what you choose to do. Even if you don't get a job at all. Do you understand?”

The man started into his eyes, seemingly frozen as he processed all that he said.

“Logan..”

“Hm?”

“You gotta nod hon, we've talked about this.”

Slowly nodding, indicating that he understood, the tears got thicker as he pulled himself into Wade's shoulder, sobbing more.

“Oooh There there… There's my big strong man..” Wrapping his arms around him, he was careful of the single knife still out. Sitting him up, he rubbed the side of his face as he kissed the other cheek, only to gasp.

“GAASSSPP!! Peanut!”

“What!?” His grip tightened around his waist as he looked around urgently, immediately sniffling and starting to wipe his eyes.

“You're getting greys!” He coed, reaching up to pluck a single gray hair from the beast, who flinched. “Ouch..”

Leaning back, Wade held the hair in front of his face, His smile still wider than ever.

“You're turning into A silver fox, wolvie!”

“W-what?”

“Ooh I bet you're gonna be so handsome! Eehh!” Hugging him again, tight around his neck.

Blushing, He wasn't sure what had just happened. How him venting and crying out of the rage he felt to Wade fangirling over one of his single hairs.. though.. I guess it made sense for your bald boyfriend to monitor yours. Wade has even made him start using a fancy shampoo that made his hair a lot softer, curlier, and Less greasy.

“.. you..You're excited that i'm getting old..??”

“Duh! I've always wanted to be a hot silver daddy's sugar baby!”

“What does that even mean?”

“Don't worry about it- Oh hey look! Your claw went back in.”

Looking at his hand, he made a fist and opened it a couple of times, blinking, oblivious. “...How did you do that?”

But what he didn't realize is that the stress was flowing out of him, and the relief that Wade seemed to be obsessed with him no matter what had calmed him down enough for it to slide back in itself.

“I didn't do anything, sweetheart. You opened up. Let it out. All that stress isn't good for you, you know. How do you think I ended up looking like this?” He joked, giggling.

For some reason, He laughed too, finding this a bit funny.

“Do you feel better? Hm?”

“Nngh..”

“I'll take that as a yes.” The naked man whispers, kissing him with his arms lazily on his shoulders, glad that he was able to cry in front of him. Twas a very manly thing to do and there was no one more manly than the Wolverine himself.

“Alright. I'm gonna go shower. I stink worse than you do after being out in the rain.” You know, wet dog and all. Pulling away, there was a clang and a tug at both of their necks, the tags becoming stuck together, making wade smirk more. “I think these tags don't want me to go.”

Quickly frowning, Logan swallowed, moving to take his off, pulling up his hand as he held it, putting the tag inside of it, closing his fingers.

“Wha..I-... what are you doing?”

“Wade.. I..” He sighs, looking away with a nervous pout, Grunting a bit from frustration. Why did words have to be so difficult?

“Are you breaking up with me?!”

“What!? No! I-.. I don't..”

See what Logan didn't know was that Wade had viewed these as promise rings, the equivalent of engagement even but he was okay with never actually getting married. As long as he got to wear the dress in his closet and dance with him he wouldn't mind if it was legal or not. He understood fully that not everyone wanted to marry the stage 4 cancer patient whose skin looked like turkey bacon that was somehow raw and burnt at the same time.

“You don't what? Do you.. want something else? We can get rings! Do you want rings?” shifting to sit closer to him, Wade was obviously becoming upset about this, untangling the tags and looking at him with those big brown puppy eyes.

“Rings…?”

He could see the gears in his head trying their best to turn as he thought what he meant.

“How would we make them into rings?” He finally asks and to Wade, this was basically a proposal.

Sitting up more he began clapping excitedly the same way he did when seeing puppins again about 8 months ago. “Eeh!! Yes!!”

His head turns, Giggling. “I would've taken it in front of the subway like Sanda Bullock but this works too!”

Logan, like a dumb ass, looked too, knowing full well he wouldn't see anyone but still always looked anyway. “Who??”

“Oh I'll show you later! What size are you?”

“In rings?”

“No, your cock, Of course in rings!”

“Hey now- I never agreed to a cock ring, Wade. No.”

The serious tone and the way he pointed his finger at him made him laugh more, taking his hand as he kissed it. “We'll figure it out. Okay so after my shower, I'll call a guy I know. I think Forge would do a much better job but I feel like he'd say no.” He began rambling about how cute they would be and how excited he was, climbing off of his lap (finally) and started to walk off.

“W-wade!” He called, swallowing again, nervous to ask him to listen.

“What? You wanna come shower?”

“No- well.. maybe but..”

Again he waited, rocking back and forth on his heels, trying his best to be patient but it was hard not talking for 0.5 seconds.

“It's not that.. I don't like them. It's just.. I got those a long long time ago.. and I don't want to be the man those belonged to. Not anymore. And it's not that I don't think about rejoining all the time, it's just.. I want to live my life the way I want too. Charles always said that at the end, we'd get to live how we deserve. That's my time. My time is now. I want to sit on a porch somewhere out west and watch the horses graze. I wanna sit around doing nothing with Puppins in my arms. I want… I want to be with.. with you.”

He admitted, and for once Wade was the one speechless.

“I don't want you to visit. I want to live with you. But not here. I want to go somewhere quieter. Somewhere I can just be.. Logan..”

Putting a hand on his chest as he explained, he didn't see his smile move, not a smidge, watching as he bit his lip and covered his mouth trying to stay quiet until he was done.

“Of course I still want to help people though! Protect them from other worse people… I'm just tired of being someone's toy soldier all the time. I want to do what I think is right but.. also have time to listen to you sing when cooking and take Puppins to the dog park. I want to protect..Us.” Yeah. That felt right. Us. Both of them, all of them. Together. His family.

“B-besides.. If I became an X-men again I don't think I could do it. I could barely sleep back then thinking about all the screams.. the people I couldn't help. I don't think I would be able to get over the fact that I can't save everyone… But I definitely want to try to at least save a few people. Take care of them… all of them. Even if they don't think they need help.” He smiled a bit, taking a huge breath as the stress was relieved from his shoulders.

“Alright you can talk now because I'm never doing that ever again, that was super embarrassing.” He muttered, flushed as he looked down at his lap.

The second he gave him permission to speak, Wade screamed, a scream that made Logan's eyes widen and look at him with a slow blink. “....what was tha-”

Immediately he was pulled up from the bed, picked up and squeezed tightly as he jumped around. Grunting some, he held on tight, feeling a little nauseous. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong he was.

Still screaming, Wade was extremely excited about all that was just said, Logan admitting that he wanted a serious future with him was a lot better news than he could have ever wished for.

“Put me down!... Wade!... I'm gonna throw up!” He said, whining that he was given uppies non consensually. Even he couldn't help but laugh though in response to his giggles. God that laugh was so annoying and yet his world would feel pointless without it.

Putting him down, Wilson grabs his cheeks, petting his beard. “Ooh Logan.. I don't need protection.. because I can't get pregnant. But if I ever find out that I can, I'll definitely hire you.” He jokes, causing more blushes as his hand comes up to Wades, nuzzling into it for a moment.

“You know what I mean…”

“I do. And while I won't stop you, how about you be your own soldier for a bit? Tell yourself how to live. Not anyone else. And i'll be behind you, wearing a shirt with your ugly mug on it, supporting you the whole way. Got it?”

“Aye! I'm not ugly!”

“No you are not! I've barely been home for 20 minutes and am already so wet. I haven't even taken a shower yet “ he mumbles casually as he begins walking away.

“Heh.. Hey…erm Wade?”

“Yes, love?” Just about to leave the room, he turns, smiling gently at how talkative his fiancé was.

Logan blushes more. “I uhm.. If I'm nobody's soldier… can your name be nobody?”

Wade looks confused at first, now it's his turn to figure out what he was saying.

“Cause.. if your name is nobody then i'd be.. nevermind.” Waving A hand, he glanced at his shoes, stuffing his hands in his pocket having just fumbled that line completely.

Within seconds, Wade was back in that room, giving him the sloppiest, deepest kiss that was available, kissing him all over.

“Oh Logie! You're so sweet! But leave the flirting to me, mkay? I don't need you throwing your back out trying too hard.” He pats his chest, grabbing his hand as Wade drug him by the wrist.

They both laugh as they enter the bathroom, closing the door with a click.

[toxicanonymity]

No outbreak au where reader sends joel either nudes or a video because she's being extra bratty due to joel neglecting her for work. Cue a grumpy frustrated joel ready to come home give his girl exactly what she needs.

daddy Joel one shot

2.4k / joel miller x f!reader / master list

mood board by milla-frenchy 🖤

Summary: You've been bad. See ask.

WARNINGS: Big girthy age gap, mean brat-tamer-ish Joel (I do not write official kinks that follow rules), use of "daddy" and pet names, Joel is a little rough with you, hair pulling, hand swatting, manhandling, degradation, blow job, unsafe p in v, blindfold, dubcon breeding.  NO use of Y/N.

next: a day in the filth

You get bored and send Joel a sexy picture.  You don't have class and don't expect him home until 5:30 or later. He works at headquarters nearby most days. You can sometimes bait him home for lunch, but not lately, and it upsets you.  He’s working on a big project and says he just can’t get away. He’s warned you--he needs to focus.  

He texts you back. "What the hell are you doin’?" When you don't answer, he sends a video.  You squeeze your thighs together before you open it, anticipating a stern warning about what he’s gonna do to you when he gets home.  Usually, the video is from his office with the door closed.  Occasionally, it's from the bathroom if he wants to show you what you do to him instead of tell you what he'll do to you. 

When you open this video, he's standing outside in front of a chain link fence and cement is being poured in the background.  He’s wearing the shirt and tie he left home in this morning, but also a hardhat.  He has one hand on his hip with the sleeve rolled up.  "Tryin' to piss me off so I toss you around? That it, baby doll? 'Cause all ya gotta do is ask daddy real nice."  He points a finger at you.  "You better cut it out." A crane starts beeping in the background as he ends the video. 

You send your own video back. "I just miss you, Daddy." You're still on his bed, lying on your side, pouting.  Your nipples are poking through your thin, lace camisole.  Joel starts typing but stops and doesn't ever send anything.

- 

Around 6:00 when you hear Joel park in the driveway, you look out the window.  He comes around the front of his truck toward the house.  His face is tense, his tie has been loosened, his forearms are pumped up.  He’s unbuckling his belt as he walks, which sends a rush of need between your legs.  Downstairs, the door opens then slams shut. His boots thud across the floor until he takes them off.  As he makes his way up the stairs, his unfastened belt jingles and his feet land loudly with each step. 

The bedroom door is open.  His hands are clenched into fists when he enters and crosses the room.  As he reaches the bed, he stops and puts his hands on his hips. His body is tense. He demands, "'the hell is wrong with you?" He stands next to the bed and glowers at you as he unbuttons his pants. The intensity in his eyes goes right between your legs.  He continues, "You know how dangerous a construction site is? Gonna get me killed sendin' shit like that." 

You sit up. "Sorry, Daddy," you say quietly as you sit up. You reach out for him. "I didn't kno-" he firmly grabs your wrist then throws your hand away.  

His chest heaves. He grabs you by the hair and makes you look at him. 

"Course ya didn't. . .Don't think about anything but this cock, do ya?" 

Unsure if the question is rhetorical, you shake your head timidly, as best you can with his fist still holding your hair.

His face remains stern as he tugs you toward the edge of the bed. "On your knees." He releases your hair and you nod. 

You fall to your knees on the floor. One strap of your cami falls down, exposing your breast. You don't fix it. 

You reach for the growing bulge in his pants. He swats your hand away, then abruptly and firmly takes your chin in his hand to look up at him.  He gives you a small shake as he does it.

"Daddy's in charge. Daddy knows best." 

You nod. 

"Gonna be a patient little doll, aren't ya?"  You nod again. 

"Good girl."  He rubs the front of his pants, depriving you of feeling how hard he's getting for you.  He sucks in a chest full of air through his nose. With his free hand, he grabs your breast, pushing it and kneading it flatly into your chest. He growls.  You look straight up as he looms over you, massaging your breast and his considerable bulge at the same time. "What am I gonna do with you?" He looks you over and shakes his head in disapproval. "You're too bored, aren't ya? Lie here thinkin' about this cock all goddamn day.” You salivate watching him stroke his pants.  “I told ya, you need a hobby."

Maybe that's what you do some days--the days you don't have class. Better than being back with your family.

"I'm not bored," You shake your head. “just miss you sometimes.” 

"Now, listen. You wanna stay here? You better get pregnant or get a job. Are we clear?"

You swallow and nod hesitantly.

“Spoiled brat like you don’t want a job,” he adds.  "So I’m gonna be nice and help ya with the first option.”

He releases your breast and urgently unzips his pants. "’Cause I’ve waited long enough for it, baby. Daddy knows best." He pulls down his boxers and wraps his veiny hand around his commanding cock.   You nod.  You wet your lips and pry your eyes from his cock to meet his gaze. 

"Look at you. Already droolin', aren't ya?" His voice is dark and low. He's snarling.  "Open that dirty little mouth." You do as you're told. He puts one hand on the back of your head and steps forward to put his cock in your mouth. You long to lick and suck the tip, but you're not in charge. You open as wide as you can and he guides his cock between your lips. He keeps going until it's nearly to the back of your throat, then he lays it onto your tongue. "Go 'head, now."

You bring both your hands to his cock to hold it steady.  Having it in your mouth makes you throb with desire. You seal your lips around the smooth shaft and begin to suck. 

"Good girl."

He holds your head in both hands and guides you on his cock. You suck and lick the underside strongly. His hips rock into you.  When you try to let some of his shaft out so you can suckle on the tip, he grabs your hair as he pulls your head back toward him.  "Watch it," he says coldly. Instead, you suck from the back or your throat. The fullness of your mouth and throat prickles your eyes with tears.  You're so wet, you long to touch yourself.  You take one hand off his cock and start to reach down, but he catches your hand and brings it back to where it was.

“Nuh-uh.  Don’t you dare. Not unless Daddy says.” 

After a minute of sucking his cock, you begin to taste his precum, one of your favorite tastes in the world. He says, "That's all, baby." He takes it from your mouth and it hits your chin on its way down.  

—-

Joel steps out of his pants and leaves his stiff cock and balls hanging over his boxers.  You sit there on your knees awaiting instruction. He crouches down to the floor and firmly grabs you by both arms. "Get up," he growls and forces you to your feet with an emphatic shake of your arms at the end.  Then he looks you up and down and pushes you backwards onto the bed. You catch yourself with your forearms and elbows.

He wraps a big hand around his cock again and looks at your desperate, hungry face. He's still wearing his shirt and tie.  He leans over you to yank your sleep shorts down below your knees. Then steps one foot between your legs, pressing his foot down on the shorts to take them off completely.   He spreads your thighs, then kneels between them. He puts his hands down on the bed near your arms and hovers over you. His tie falls onto your chest. He supports himself with one arm while he unknots the tie, slides it out, and drops it onto the bed. He unbuttons his shirt, and you marvel at how the muscles of his supporting arm stretch the fabric. As he finishes the last button, you reach out for his bicep. 

He catches you by the wrist again.  "What are you doin?"  He throws your hand down. 

You're quiet. 

"Who’s in charge?" He stands up and takes off the button-down. Your desire throbs as his chest and biceps emerge in just a tight undershirt.

"I forgot," you say. “You just look so nice.” 

He fumes, "Forgot who’s in charge? Alright, know what?" He grabs the tie. "Let's remove temptation. C'mere. Sit up."

—-

You sit up on the bed, and he ties it as a blindfold around your eyes. “There ya go.”  His hand on your chest pushes you down on your back again. He sits up on his knees to look between your legs, and he marvels at your glistening cunt.  “Drippin’ all over the place, baby.”

He holds his massive cock above your cunt, gripping it loosely with just two fingers and a thumb on the lower half of the shaft.  He drop the smooth tip heavily onto your clit, then he rapidly moves his cock it up and down, hitting you clit and teasing you with the rhythmic contact.  You whimper, and tension swells in your abdomen.  You gasp and bite your lip.  You tilt your hips, trying to catch it with your leaking cunt.  

“Good girl,” he says, then notches it at your entrance.  He begins to push inside, and you gasp at the stretch.  He doesn’t wait.  He pushes in a little more.  Once he’s far enough in to stay in, he braces his hands on the bed above your shoulders then shoves his length into you with a drawn-out groan that makes you twitch around him before your walls have fully made room.  You can only imagine the look on his face.  He pushes furthe, as deep as he can, with all his weight behind his pelvis. Your body's still trying to catch up. "God damn," he sighs. "Loosen up for Daddy.” You try your best to relax. 

He slowly retreats then slams his thick length to the hilt with a low grunt.  "Good girl.”  He repeats the motion, sliding into you, splitting you open with the help of your ample slick. The smooth fabric of the tie feels nice, but you wish you could see how hot he looks.  His face of pleasure is one to behold. 

“Please let me see you, dadd-.”

"No," he replies coldly without hesitation. He punctuates it with a powerful thrust into your depths. “Not this time.” He pulls back most of his length.  

Your lip trembles and you bite it to keep from crying.

He sighs loudly as he fills you up again. "Keep takin' it like a good girl, and next time you can watch." 

He braces himself with a forearm on the bed near your head as he keeps pounding you. He urgently pulls down your camisole so  both your breasts are out.  He palms one hungrily as he thrusts into you and breathes heavily. He plants his mouth on your neck and sucks hard.  Then he aggressively kisses your lips and your mouth thirstily accepts his.   At this angle, he’s grinding into your clit.  Your hips lift and your back arches as he kisses you and presses against your most sensitive place with each thrust.  He feels you getting close and breaks the kiss with a moan.  

“Go ‘head, baby.   You can come.” He fills you with his cock a few more times, then you whimper as pleasure pulses outward from your clit, making you spasm around his length.  

“Oh, Daddy,” you whimper as you come.  “Ohh,” you moan. Your waves continue and your hips lift into his.  

He groans as your cunt chokes his cock.  Then his breathing becomes heavier, more desperate.   “That’s right, baby,”  he breathes.  You would give anything to see his face.  But even without the view, you can feel his climax approaching in his voice and breathing. He lays a massive hand on your lower stomach.  "Gonna fill you up,” he pants.  "Make this belly round."  He moans and his cock begins to twitch.  “Show everyone who’s Daddy’s good girl.” He slows his hips.

“Fuck,” he says between heavy breaths.  He retreats one more time then slams all the way into you and his cock begins to pulse massively.  

You moan, and your cunt twitches again.  “Oh, Daddy.”

He quickly puts you in a mating press before plunging to the hilt again, filling you with a huge load.  One more thrust as he empties his balls and you gasp and pant.  He stays in position and sighs, then begins to catch his breath.  “Good girl,”  he whispers.  “You can look now.”

You move the necktie up to your eyebrows and watch him hovering over you with his face pink, hair sticky, neck vein bulging. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you.  He lays a hand on your stomach again.  His chest is still heaving under his white understhirt, and his biceps stretch the sleeves. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he says.  “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he laughs.  His face darkens.  “‘specially if you don’t stop textin’ dirty when I’m workin’.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” you whisper earnestly.

“I forgive you. Know why?”

“Why”

“‘Cause you took this cock so good.” He rocks his hips into you one last time, making you gasp as he pushes his cum deeper.  Then he very slowly pulls out.  He puts a big pillow under your butt. “Don’t you move, now. ” He lays down next to you on the bed, head in his hand, and watches you look at him with affection.  He kisses your cheek and says, "that's my girl." He gently strokes your chest and fondles your breasts, occasionally kissing you. 

"Are you still mad," you ask. 

"I don't think I can stay mad at ya, baby." He closes his eyes and kisses you long and deep. “Take my cock too good."

-

-

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-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Every comment and reblog means a lot and also helps me recognize you in the wild on Tumblr. (Plus, unabashed dope(amine) addict here 😫 )

Love you guys. 🖤🖤🖤

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Ask was from April, ty for your patience Anon 🖤

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91

and @bunnyskisses

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Akashi Takeomi - "Late Night Lovin'"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain Bonten executive comes home quite late at night to his husband and enjoys a lovely dessert a lot sooner than he thought he would. Or; In which Akashi Takeomi's house husband spoils him rotten with whatever he wants tonight.

Warnings -> Kind Of Suggestive At The End.

                                                                                                   

🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠

“Hmm hm hmmm hm-hm~♪”

[Name] hums a small tune to himself as he stands before the stove, making dinner for himself and his husband.

He and his beloved husband had been married for 4– going on 5 –years now. While his love was working hard at his job as a "marketing executive" he stayed home and looked after the house. Cleaning here and there, washing the laundry, doing the dishes, watering the plants, etc. It did get a bit lonely when his husband was called away for a business trip overseas, but he always managed to power through it due to their nightly phone calls.

[Name] used the spatula in his hand to flip over the pieces of chicken that sat in the skillet; coating the cooking meat in oil and spices. He was trying out a recipe that their neighbor had told him about the other day. The name of the dish completely escaped him, but he thankfully remembered the majority of the recipe. A sigh fell from his lips though when he saw a newly formed stain on the apron he was wearing; damn, it was a gift from his darling too.

The sound of jingling keys brought his attention away from the food; having him perk up and turn down the heat of the eye before running to the door to greet his love.

He made it into the living room just in time to see his husband shrugging off his snow-speckled coat. The apron-clad man smiles as he helps tug off his husband's coat; hanging up on one of the wall hooks that were mounted right next to the door. Clasping his hands in front of himself; [Name] waited until the other had kicked off his shoes to practically jump on him and pull him into a hug.

“Welcome home, Omi! How was work? Did you like the lunch I packed for you today? I'm making dinner, are you hungry?”  

The h/c-ette coos excitedly as he asks questions that he doesn't give the other enough time to answer.

Takeomi chuckles softly; he has grown used to his hyperactive lover by now. The younger always became very excited when he came home after being gone for long periods. He reminded the Bonten executive of a puppy sometimes; truly adorable.

The taller silenced [Name]; gently putting a finger to his lips and letting out a soft ‘shhh’. The apron-wearing man felt his face slightly warm as he looked into his lover's tired eyes; quickly and shyly looking away when they narrowed at him just a bit.

“One question at a time, Lovely.—”  

The man chuckles softly; moving his hand from his husband's mouth to gently tuck a strand of unruly hair back into place.

“—Work was alright; I closed a very good deal today, so I was given a few days off as a bonus. Lunch was delicious as usual; everything you cook is perfect. And yes, I'm hungry.”  

[Name] beams at him with a grin that could rival the light of the stars that twinkle just out the window. Taking the older's hand; he excitedly pulls him into the dining room and rushes back to the kitchen to finish dinner. Takeomi chuckles as he watches him scurry off, resting his chin on his palm as he patiently waits for his meal.

“You know…”  

Takeomi mutters before finishing his last bite of food; turning a sultry half-lidded gaze to his lover seated across from him.

“I think I'm still feeling hungry.”  

[Name] looks up from his own nearly finished plate; sending the other a soft smile as he finishes his one or two bites and stands from his seat, plate in hand. Walking over to the other end of the table; he picks up the other's plate and sits it on top of his own.

“I'll get you another plate then, Honey.”  

The h/c-ette hums softly; leaning down to press a kiss on his husband's temple.

An arm wraps around his waist and keeps him in place; hand gently caressing his hip. Takeomi gives a cheeky smirk as his hand travels down to his young lover's bottom; giving it a firm squeeze.

“That's not exactly what I'm hungry for, Kitten. I'm in the mood for something a little… sweeter.”  

It seemed the two would be having dessert a lot sooner than planned.

He purrs; sharp eyes narrowing even further as he gives [Name] the look of a hungry lion. 

🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[tomionefinds]

Fluff/Soft Fics

Things are hard. Here are some softer Tom, some humorous, and some fluffy fics to cuddle with. Graphic by Mod April - TF Team

Just Another Girl Alone at the Bar by Spork_in_the_Road

M | Complete | 8k

“Oh Ron-Ron, you’re too funny,” a feminine voice says, giggling. Hermione thinks she might vomit. In which Hermione pretends Tom is her boyfriend until he actually is.

Hot Lips by nauticalparamour

E | One-shot | 3k

When Tom Riddle finds out that Hermione Granger has a phone sex line, his first inclination is to use it to blackmail her. But, once he gets her talking, he doesn't want it to end.

Forever Means Forever by cocoartist

T | Complete | 7k

If she ever saw Unspeakable Number 37 again she would kill him with her bare hands: Hermione's research into the Veil has an unexpected side-effect. COMPLETE.

A Naughty Niffler by bunnystealsyourcarrots

E | One-shot | 2k

Hermione finds herself sucked into an unknown world with an old familiar face

Youth in Retrospect by provocative_envy

E | One shot | 8k

She’s buying a box of condoms when she meets him. “Those are shit, you know,” he says, jerking his chin at the pale purple box in her hand. “Can’t feel anything.” She stares at him for a moment too long. The bell above the door jingles merrily as a rowdy group of schoolboys enters the store. “Excuse you,” she replies, cheeks turning pink.

Nerve Damage by januarywren

T | Complete | 6k

“Working late again?” Hermione asked, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, her raised eyebrow daring him to make a smart remark. That look had sent more than one ex fuming—but not him. Never him. Tom glanced up from his paperwork, his usual mask of indifference giving way to a slow, lazy smile. “Someone has to keep things running smoothly around here. I thought you’d be fast asleep by now, Miss Granger.” She let her gaze wander over the surprising disarray of his desk, piled high with case files and pages dotted with notes in his precise handwriting. She'd teased him more than once about his borderline obsessive need for order, how every pen, every scrap of paper, had its place. But she didn't mention it now or comment on the faint stain on his collar. Losing a patient did things to a person—things no textbook or professor could ever prepare them for. House M.D. Inspired AU | There’s a sickness between Hermione and Tom that neither has any desire to cure. (It isn't love. It isn't. 🖤)

communication errors by esotyric (devilrie)

T | Complete | 7k

sender: tmriddle@walpurgis.net recipient: hermionegranger@gryffinsdor.org subject: Today’s Meeting Granger – Attached is the dry-cleaning bill for the shirt you ruined when you threw your tea at it. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I happened to be wearing the shirt at the time. You are lucky it was cold. Pay the bill and I won’t sue you for assault. Regards, Thomas Marvolo Riddle CEO of Walpurgis Corporate sender: hermionegranger@gryffinsdor.org recipient: tmriddle@walpurgis.net subject: re: Today’s Meeting Riddle – I did notice, because unlike you, I can identify when something is being inhabited, you forest-destroying monster. You do not require a dry cleaner to get herbal tea out of a shirt. The shirt was black, the tea was camomile, and you have no grounds on which to stand nor sue. Your company, however, WILL be exposed for the havoc it is wreaking upon our natural world. Sincerely, Hermione Jean Granger CEO of Not being a Twat

Domestic Bliss by airgloweffect

M | one shot | 693

A snapshot into the life of Tom and Hermione Riddle.AU

Avada Kedavra Anonymous by Speechwriter

K+ | Complete | 8k

No one missed Riddle's pale fist tightening around the useless wand in his lap. "I am Tom," he ground out. "I am here for the sole reason that the alternative was community service." / Hermione moderates a post-Avada Kedavra support group. Chaos ensues.

A Nose that Can See by Colubrina

Hermione Granger has found herself inexplicably tossed back into time to Tom Riddle's Hogwarts. And he's a Veela and, wouldn't you know it, she's his mate. Could life get worse? But he seems to have an endless supply of out-of-season fruit so it can't be all bad, right? Tomione. Major character death, musical theater, and all that fruit. COMPLETE. Hermione Granger has found herself inexplicably tossed back into time to Tom Riddle's Hogwarts. And he's a Veela and, wouldn't you know it, she's his mate. Could life get worse? But he seems to have an endless supply of out-of-season fruit so it can't be all bad, right? Tomione. Major character death, musical theater, and all that fruit. COMPLETE.

Tommy Played Guitar by PacificRimbaud

E | One shot |3k

Tom Riddle takes his coffee black and plays in a rock and roll band.

Playing Cupid by Meowmers

M | Complete | 14k

"I'm beginning to think that I would love to hear you scream." Tomione. Regency AU. Rated-M.

A Four Letter Word by elizabethriddle

E | One shot | 4k

Tom Riddle was not impulsive. He was a planner. He never did anything without carefully considering all possible outcomes and controlling all of the variables. And he never let emotions impact his decisions. He had planned, meticulously, for the post as DADA Professor. How did it all go so wrong?

Sailor Trouble by The-Empress-of-Snark (uleanblue)

Not Rated | Complete | 9k

Hermione Granger attempts to restore the Founder's Relics, with unexpected results.

you did some bad things, but i'm the worst of them by coffeepolariod

E | Complete | 22k

“You want to watch your back, Miss Granger,” Dolohov gestured to Tom with his head. “This man won’t go easy on you, won’t entertain your parlour tricks, and most definitely will not hold back as he tears your confidence down: brick by brick.” or: Hermione Granger needs to win this poker game but Tom Riddle is there at every turn.

Tempora Abducto by Flaignhan (almost anything by this author)

T | Complete | 53k

Inconveniently it's the things that need fixing the most which are often irreparable.

[kolyasangel]

ERASE ME FROM HERE AND SET ME FREE

synopsis: now that you're acquainted with nikolai, you start to sense hidden troubles and you're even more determined to become closer to him.

content: ch. 2 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 4.1k

The jingle of the bells ringing fills the air as you and Nikolai enter the cafe. The smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee hits your nose, creating a pleasing aroma. It's particularly busy today, bustling with customers, most likely because it's a Saturday.

"I didn't know you came to this cafe too, I always come here after work," you say to Nikolai.

"Oh yeah? That's nice." Nikolai says nonchalantly as he's intently looking at the menu, deliberating on what he wants to order, while you find yourself drawn to the delectable array of desserts behind the glass display.

"What are you getting?" you ask him.

"The iced honey lemon tea." He replies, looking to his side where you are. "What do you want?"

"I'll get the same thing as you, and slice of a strawberry cake."

He pauses, visibly curious about your choice of beverage. Perhaps you enjoyed his favorite tea too, he thought. "You like that tea?"

"I've never had it before so I want to try it, I like trying new things," you explain. He can't quite put his finger on it—but he finds something about your statement endearing and innocent.

Nikolai places the order, and you reach for your wallet in your little bag to pay for the both of you. He sees you do this and intervenes, halting you.

"Nuh-uh, put that way. I'm paying." he insists.

You look up at him and immediately shake your head in disagreement. "Please, I told you I would treat you."

"Hell no, I'm not letting you pay. What kind of guy would I be if I let the lady pay? I may be a dick, but I'm still a gentleman." he argues.

It was hard to hold back a laugh at his earnestness. He sounded so serious about his claim like he genuinely wanted you to believe him and it was so.. cute.

"Sometimes." you add, not missing the slight smile falling on his lips from your response.

Nikolai himself was a little surprised by your reaction and playful comment. He was expecting some kind of protest, not for you to laugh at him.

He motions you to sit at a table while he pays, so you do just that. You pick a small cozy table next to the window with two seats and sit down in one of them. As you sit, you rest your chin in the palm of your hand and look out the window, stealing occasional glimpses of passersby and whatnot outside. The events that occurred this morning went by in a blur—you showing up at Nikolai's door and waiting twenty minutes for him to get ready because he hadn't done so beforehand. You honestly don't know why it took that long because he didn't wear anything different than what you've already seen, just the usual t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn't mind, though—you're just grateful Nikolai agreed to spend time with you today.

You are caught off guard when Nikolai comes back and takes a seat in the chair across from you. Being in such proximity allowed you to observe and appreciate his features. His hair looks soft, and the striking eyes that met yours for the first time two days ago appeared to hold the same intensity, this time with a tinge of softness mingled in them. But, you figured that maybe you shouldn't be staring, so you fiddle with your fingers instead to pass some time before the drinks arrive.

Nikolai takes a moment to glance at your outfit while you aren't looking at him and notices how you dressed up in a pretty sundress today. For a second, he feels a bit bad that he didn't make the effort to fix up his appearance as you did, but the brief twinge of guilt felt was instantly drowned out by reluctant resistance. It doesn't matter.

"I'm happy you took time out of your day to hang out with me." you express and offer a cute smile, taking him out of his thoughts.

Nikolai looks at you, baffled, unsure of how to take your words or how to respond. "Hey hey, keep that away alright? This isn't a date or anything," he interjects before looking away from you to gaze out the window instead, avoiding your eyes and unwilling to engage further in your comment.

You felt your cheeks flush when he said that—that thought hadn't even crossed your mind. A date? With Nikolai? Like he'd ever want that.

Lost in your thoughts, you were pulled out of them as the waitress came with both of your drinks and your cake. She must've thought you and Nikolai were together, evidenced by how she grinned at you both and the two forks placed by the cake on the plate.

Nikolai, on the other hand, either didn't notice this or decided to ignore it. Rather, he seems unbothered while taking a sip of his tea, humming in delight when the familiar taste settles on his tongue.

You reach for your cup and take a sip of yours as well, eager to taste it. "Ooh, I like it! I think this might be my new favorite." you say before taking another sip, relishing the sweet and sour taste. A certain expression you couldn't quite identify flickers in Nikolai's eyes as he observes you.

Putting your tea down, you grew more curious about something and were practically itching to ask about it. "Can I ask you something, Nikolai?"

"You already did, silly." he playfully answers.

"Oh." you grin at the nickname, making you feel more relaxed. "Well.. can I ask how you got that scar?" you ask, resting your chin in the palms of your hands.

His eyes widen. He didn't expect that one.

As obvious as it was, he was still hoping you wouldn't ask about it, the risk of it leading to questions about his past surfacing. Despite this, fingers came up to his face to lightly graze against the scar that ran from his upper eyebrow and down his left eye. "This one? It's hideous isn't it?" he asks humorously, almost as if he's anticipating agreement.

"No, I think it actually looks kinda cool, it suits you in a way.." Your words elicit a gentle smile from him. "Did you get into a fight or something?"

"You could say that."

He was making it clear as day that he didn't want to elaborate or actually answer your question, so you didn't persist. Perhaps it wasn't a fond memory he liked to remember.

Instead, you notice him eyeing the cake in front of you.

"Do you want some? Here." You push the plate towards the middle of the table and hand him the other fork, waiting for him to take it, which he does.

He digs the fork into the other side of the cake and takes a bite before averting his eyes to look out the window, seemingly uncomfortable to meet your eyes in this moment.

You took another bite and munched on the cake happily, enjoying it.

"So.." Nikolai's mellow voice draws your attention. "What do you do for work?" he asks as he faces you again, initiating a conversation.

"I'm a florist," you reply, a smile lighting up your face. "The shop is not too far down this street, actually. That's why I come here after work since the walk is short." you explain.

"Florist, huh.." he muses, taking another sip of his tea as he listens to you intently.

"Yeah, I like flowers a lot!" you say, your passion for your work evident in your tone. "I love my job."

Nikolai seems genuinely taken aback by your enthusiasm. This was probably the first time he'd ever heard someone talk so fondly about their work, not that the event of him talking to people happened often. But it was unusual. You sure are a weird one.

"Do you like flowers, Nikolai?"

"Probably not as much as you do." he mutters, putting his tea down. "You go to school?"

"I graduated college recently.." you respond.

He nods in understanding. "Ah, you're young."

"You're young too right? You don't seem that much older than me." you tease, trying to gauge his age.

"I don't know if you'd consider me young, but by definition, I suppose I am," he replies with a hint of amusement.

"You're like the only person around my age I've seen in the complex, you know." you mention, smiling and reaching for your cup of tea. "I'm glad I bumped into you after he told me not to speak to you."

His brows furrow at your words. He seems upset. "Who said that?"

"Our landlord," you clarify. "A few days ago, after an apartment inspection."

"Oh, that old piece of shit." he grumbles.

"He's not that old.." you reply, puzzled by his reaction.

"The way you're saying it makes it sound like you have a crush on him." he jokes before taking another bite of the cake.

"What?! Absolutely not!" you exclaim, scoffing at the thought.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Nikolai retorts, nodding and shrugging it off before asking you another question to switch the topic. "Any friends around here?"

You freeze but quickly shake your nerves off. "Now you're the one interrogating me with questions." you giggle, albeit nervously, wanting to avoid the question.

He tries to conceal a smile but fails when he hears your laugh, not being able to stop the corners of his mouth from curling upwards. "Yeah, I guess I am. Consider it sort of a payback, now we're even."

"I suppose so." you laugh, finding the banter between the both of you amusing. "Enough about me, I wanna know about you!" you say, eager to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Nikolai's smile fades and he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm not that interesting. You'll probably get bored if I start talking about myself."

"Aw, c'mon! Please?" you implore, displaying your keen interest in learning more about him. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

Your insatiable desire to know more about him. He hates it.

He clenches his jaw and his heart is beating faster in nervousness. "I don't know.." he says, not knowing how to answer your question.

You sense the discomfort hidden in his answer, noticing an undertone of dismay tainting his voice, so you decide it's best to change the subject. "When did you move here?" you ask with a gentler voice.

"I don't know, two years ago, I think. I lost track of time." He eventually mutters, his tone more quieter than before.

"Ooh, and where did you live before then? What did you do for work?" you ask, now interested in his past.

Nikolai stiffens, a hint of unease crossing his features. He can't tell you anything about his previous endeavors.

Although you're eager, he doesn't entertain your curiosity and remains silent, causing you to huff and lean back in your seat in frustration. He's so stubborn. But you can't hold it against him—for you suppose that you too are stubborn sometimes as well.

You look at your plate and notice the last strawberry, the one that sat on top of the cake, left on the plate. You push the plate towards Nikolai. "You can have it."

"Are you kidding? You eat it." He pushes the plate back to you, not understanding why you don't just eat it yourself instead of giving it to him.

You didn't know what you were expecting from him, but deep down, a part of you secretly wished for him to accept your nice gesture. Unwilling to make a big deal out of it, you poke your fork through the berry and take a nibble.

— ✦

After the two of you leave the cafe, the slight breeze provides some coolness from the heat as the sun's rays beat down on your skin.

Nikolai proceeded to walk to his car, but you hesitated, standing in place, reluctant to leave just yet. Your eyes instead lingered in the direction of the flower shop that was nearby.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go." he calls for you, drawing your attention.

You hurry over to him but don't get into the car. "Nikolai, I want to show you something. Please?" you told him, your hands clasped together, one squeezing the other. He was about to enter his car, but the way you spoke to him and the expression on your face made it very difficult to do.

He wished he could get rid of these feelings once and for all. His chest felt constricted. It was all too overwhelming—the way his emotions overbore and defied any rational thinking or reason. It annoyed him to no end. Damn it all to hell.

"No, come on, we're going." he tries his best to maintain his composure and conceal any weakness.

"Nikolai.." you touch his shoulder. "The flower shop is down the road, do you wanna see it? It'll be quick, I promise. I don't have the keys right now, but I could show you the outside."

Your touch is so gentle.

He pulls away, avoiding any further contact with you, and looks at you again with a peeved expression. He sighs deeply and puts a hand over his eyes, his other arm still gripping the car door handle.

Seeing his reaction, you decide maybe it wasn't a good idea to push him any further. Annoyance, or frustration, is what you believe he's experiencing, or maybe a combination of both. You move to the passenger side, not wanting to trouble him any longer, preparing to let him drive you home.

He removes his hand from his eyes when he hears shuffling and notices the sad look on your face as you are about to open the car door. "Fine, fine!" He throws his arms up in defeat.

You look at him in shock and move your hands up to your chest, a smile painting your face as he agrees to go check out the shop.

"Well, get a move on. We don't have all day." He says while putting his keys in his pocket and starts walking. You catch up to him and walk beside him, slightly ahead so that he can follow your direction. However, you do struggle a bit to keep pace as he walks faster since he's so much taller than you, which makes you somewhat nervous. But regardless of his slightly intimidating appearance, you still find him to be kind.

A few minutes later, Nikolai comes to a stop when you do, standing in front of a small building.

"Right here?" he asks.

You nod and move closer to peer through the glass into the dark, empty shop. "The shop isn't open on weekends."

Nikolai admires the shop exterior, finding it surprisingly charming compared to what he had imagined. The outside of the building is a dark green—a color of nature that perfectly suits the shop's offerings. He looks up at the sign that hangs above the entrance.

"Lily of the valley - Flowers and gifts."

He must admit, it does look like a cozy and inviting place to work and spend time in. It quite suits your personality, he thought.

"It's lovely." He says sincerely, more honest than he would've liked for it to come across.

The reason is inexplicable, but his reaction makes you more giddy than you expected it to make you, with his face looking so soft compared to just a few minutes ago. You're happy he likes it. You're so happy.

"What are you planning to do with the degree that you earned?" he suddenly asks. "I'm sure you don't want to stay working here forever."

"I would like to if I could." you say, no trace of uncertainty in your voice. "It doesn't pay much, but, for me it's better than anything else. It makes me happy.." your voice trails off.

He notices the falter in your voice. "You don't seem too happy right now."

"What? Oh.." you look at the ground before looking up again, your head still slightly tilted to the floor. "I just don't like talking about the future, I'm still not completely sure what I want and it makes me nervous. I don't want to get stuck with some job I don't enjoy and throw away my happiness."

Nikolai's brows ease while he attentively listens to you talking about your troubles. He doesn't know what to say to make you feel better or why he even cares at all anyway.

"I think the place I'm in right now is fine, and I shouldn't rush myself into getting a career." you continue. "Even if that day never comes, even if I stay at this place, I'll be content."

Maybe it's the look on your face that is visible to him through the reflection of the glass or the wavering in your typically cheerful voice. Whatever it is, something grips at his chest. His chest feels tight, and his heart is pounding against his chest, desperate in a futile attempt to break free from its cage. It feels like he can't breathe.

You look away from the glass and look back at Nikolai.

"I'm sorry, we can go back now.." you smile, but he sees right through you and can tell you are feigning ease from the lack of crinkles around your eyes.

Nikolai pats the pocket that holds his keys and starts walking in the direction of his car without exchanging another word, you following behind.

But you nearly bump into him shortly when Nikolai suddenly halts in his tracks. Your face would've almost touched his back if you hadn't looked up in time, and you quickly moved beside him to see what had captured his attention.

Your eyes land on a group of pigeons on the ground, and you can't help but smile as you watch them, finding their waddling walks cute. Then, you look back at Nikolai, who seems to be focused on the birds before noticing your gaze towards him, causing him to start moving again towards his car.

You follow him closely now, nearly brushing arms. "Did you want to watch the birds a little longer, Nikolai?" you ask, noticing the shift in his abrupt actions.

"No.." his voice is quiet, barely audible.

He enters his car and settles into the driver's seat, and you get into the passenger's side, carefully fastening your seat belt. Nikolai's car wasn't the nicest, quite the opposite actually with how messy and dirty the inside was, but who were you to judge the vehicle he drove? It wasn't any of your business so you kept your mouth shut—which is good for Nikolai as he's hoping you don't talk anymore for the sake of his sanity. He starts to drive and you grip your purse, succumbing to boredom, you decide to rummage through it for a bit before pulling down the sun visor to look in the little mirror.

"Fucking hell," he curses under his breath when he catches a glimpse of you looking at your reflection through the car mirror. His grip on the steering wheel tightens a little, deterring his eyes away and trying to focus on the road instead of how you're currently tracing your finger along the edges of your lips, cleaning up your lip gloss.

The ride back to the apartment complex was silent, thankfully, Nikolai thought. It was only when he parked that you caused that silence to dissipate.

"Nikolai, thank you for today." You're facing him now with a satisfied expression, a grin creeping up on your face.

One of his hands is still firmly gripping the bottom of the wheel while the other is on the door handle, avoiding looking at you. "You don't need to thank me for anything, and this was your idea anyway," he mutters in response.

"I know.. but you still agreed and took me out, and you even paid for me. So, thank you again." you say with a sweet smile. It had been a while since you casually hung out with someone like this, and you couldn't remember the last time you'd enjoyed someone's company so much, so your short time with Nikolai brought great delight to your day.

Nikolai looks at you, finally. His hand on the wheel relaxes and drops to his lap, and his features soften as his tenseness diminishes.

"You're welcome."

You feel your ears redden at his honest tone and the way he looks at you, a hint of glimmer visible in his eyes. Eventually, you tear your gaze away from him after a few seconds, which too, makes Nikolai snap back into reality. He looks out the car window and coughs, trying to dispel the slight awkwardness that crept in.

"Come on." He quickly gets out of the car and closes the door, not waiting for you to get out before he starts walking. You exit the car after him and close the door, catching up to him.

"Hey, Nikolai, glad to see you finally outside for once!" a voice calls out.

Nikolai clicked his tongue and made no eye contact with the man he despised.

"Ignore him," he mutters as the two of you approach the building.

You see the landlord on the first floor who, what you assume, is doing his regular duties. But you notice his stare fixates on Nikolai, and as you both near the stairs, you feel a hand grasp your wrist which causes you to gasp.

"Finally got a girlfriend?" he asks Nikolai, mockingly.

"Fuck off." Nikolai spews back. He must really loathe that guy for some reason. He lets go of your wrist and moves his hand to your back, gently urging you to move forward after you both pass the guy.

"Stay in front of me." his voice is stern.

You nod, your cheeks still burning from the sudden contact between you two.

"Why are you so mean to him?" you ask, visibly confused about the obvious scorn he regarded for the landlord.

"Because I'm sick of getting treated like shit."

His comment makes you frown as you hear his tone shift into an aggrieved one, the raw resentment in his voice transparent. He'd never been this expressive before, and you couldn't help but worry about him, wondering what might've led to such a stark change in his demeanor.

You and Nikolai make it to the second floor, and you stare as he gets his keys out, unlocking his door before turning to see you looking at him.

"What? Do you think you're coming in? Because you're not."

"N-No, it's not that! I just have to ask you something." you stammer out.

He sighs and closes his eyes while using a shoulder to lean on the doorframe, mentally preparing himself for only God knows what is about to come.

"Nikolai.." your mellifluous voice begins.

God, the way you say his name is too cute. It drips from your lips like honey.

I don’t like what you're doing to me.

"Yeah?" his eyes open to look at you again.

"We're friends, right..?" you timidly ask, awaiting his answer tentatively.

Friends? No. No, No, this was a one-time thing, right? What the hell do you mean friends?

His heart is beating fast like a drum and his hands began trembling. "I— uh.."

Too comfortable. Don't get too comfortable with her. She's already getting too comfortable with you.

"Nikolai, I just want you to know.. if you ever feel sad, you can talk to me. I'll be your friend." you beam. "I'm always next door, only a knock away."

His lips part slightly in thorough disbelief at what he is hearing, unable to accept it. You're concerned for him. You genuinely want to be his friend. Since childhood, he'd always been used to it being the other way around, but for once, someone was so kind enough to ask him instead, which left him quite awestruck, to say the least.

"Except when I'm at work." You try to lighten the mood, and to your relief, he lets out a chuckle.

"You smiled a lot today." you comment shyly. "You know, I think we should hang out like this more often. I wouldn't mind at all." you admit, your eyelashes fluttering as you look down.

"You didn't have to point that out." He feels a heat of embarrassment overcome him, his cheeks dusting with a soft pink color as he awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck, your observation making him more self-conscious. "Me neither.." he added, the words spilling out of his mouth involuntarily.

Fuck. Why did I say that?

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

[the-kr8tor]

Hello! How are you??? I'm sorry in advance, I'm still figuring out how tumblr works.

There's a post by @undobutton that talks about an au where Hobie is a street musician. I think something Christmas themed would be really cute if you're interested in writing your own version. Totally up to you!

<3

I couldn't find their original post, special thanks to @undobutton, street musician au is credited to them. Thank you for requesting, lovely! Have a happy holidays 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader (except for their jacket), cw food mentions, some awkward flirting, Lovestruck! Hobie, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

When Hobie volunteered for F.E.A.S.T he never thought he'd be freezing his balls off in the middle of a busy intersection. The Santa coat he's wearing doesn't help much with the biting cold, good thing they let him wear his leather jacket underneath the red fluffy coat.

To his dismay, the red bucket to his side has stayed half empty since his shift.

The only consolation to the cold is you. Like clockwork, you come sauntering out of the busy crowd during the rush hour, your smile a beacon of warmth from the chill. You don't know him nor he knows you, but you always come to him with a greeting, always bearing gifts of hot cocoa, soup or a pastry to warm his senses. It's not just the treats you give him but also the welcome conversation. It started off with a polite ‘hello’ and ‘thank you for doing this’ and then you exchanged names, before he knew it, you two were chatting away like old friends. Now you're not strangers anymore, there's a blooming friendship that could be more if you two manage to thaw out the cold awkwardness of conversing in a public space.

The snow nips at his fingertips as he strums the familiar Christmas tune for the umpteenth time on his well loved guitar since he volunteered last week. Hobie kept repeating to himself throughout the jingle ‘for the kids, I'm doin’ this for the kids’ he huffs, puffs of clouds escaping as a wave of pedestrians passes him by without donating.

As if you've sensed his emotions, you come walking out from the subway, your fluffy red coat almost matching Hobie's, and a stark contrast to the rushing crowd's greys and white. The people seem to part just for you, like the sea making way for you to cross. Or maybe that's what he's seeing as your straight face turns into a grin as you spot him in his usual place.

“Hi, Hobie” you're suddenly right in front of him, Hobie suddenly feels warmer. Peeking down at his bucket of donations, you wince. “Not a good day?”

He shakes himself awake. “Better now that you're here”

“Where in the world do you get your charm in this weather?” you feel warm, your hands are suddenly sweaty under your gloves.

“It just comes naturally.” He shrugs, his smirk turning you into mashed potato. “Nice jacket”

You laugh, a better sound than the loud honking of traffic he's been attacked with throughout his shift.

“Yeah, well it's almost Christmas so I gotta stay festive, you know” you lift your arms to the side a little bit awkwardly. After mentally facepalming yourself, you take your wallet out to take a crisp bill to put in the donation bucket.

“Thank you, F.E.A.S.T appreciates your donation” Hobie does his practice script, but for you there's more heart put into it.

“Also, I wanted to dress up like my new favourite person” you say a little quieter, bouncing on the balls of your feet nervously.

“Santa’s your favourite bloke?” Hobie looks like he's questioning your taste.

You blink before you let out the most glorious sound he's heard all day. “Yeah, Santa’s my favourite guy” you say sarcastically, “I mean just look at him and his magnificent white beard” laughing, Hobie’s eyes widened.

You're flirting with him, shit, he thought, wanting to punch himself for his stupid reply. Composing himself with a clear of his throat, hiding it behind a chuckle, Hobie puts his charisma to work.

“Well, Your new favourite bloke has a present for you”

“What is it?” Your face hurts from smiling too much, yet it doesn't waver.

“As our biggest benefactor, you get to spend a day with Santa himself at Feast” Maybe that wasn't his best work, but can you blame him when you're looking at him like a child during Christmas morning? He puts all the blame on the cold for making his brain all foggy.

“Only if you want to that is” Hobie tries to save himself the embarrassment.

His awkward way of asking you out made you all the more fancy him, you're a goner. “I would love to, Hobie” you're sweating under all your layers.

He feels like his chest was caving in and your answer was the only thing that could hold it up. Hobie beams, a little too excited to exchange numbers with you.

In truth, you know there isn't some prize for the biggest donation, you weren't even close to the largest benefactor. Maybe that'll be a nice ice breaker for you when you finally go on a date with Santa.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew Your Were Trouble When You Walked In 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The clanging is enough to drive you crazy. You snap shut your laptop and let out a huff. A day where you can just stay home and get your work done and the landlord is doing maintenance. It has to be that day.

You check the time and rub your eyes. You look down at your pajama pants mournfully. You’re going to have to wear real clothes. You change into a pair of cords and a gray button up. You pack up your bag and shrug on a jacket as you step into your shoes.

You jingle out with your keys, locking the door behind you before quickly fleeing the echoing metalling thrums. You take the stairs down and tuck your chin down against the crisp autumn air. A tea will help with that, maybe something with a kick of caffeine to wake you up.

The cafe is only a block away. You order some ginger tea and take it to a table in the corner. You set up and hunker down to get through the last of your emails. You cup your chin as you lean your elbow on the table, entranced by the screen.

The rush of the cafe is almost soothing. The white noise helps you get through the overstuffed email sent by your supervisor. Check, check, got that done. You sip your tea as it cools and sit up to type your reply.

“You can have coffee?” The voice interrupts your frantic typing. You look up with brows furrowed. How on earth? “Genuinely curious,” Pete sits across from you, setting his paper cup down on the other end of the table, “with dialysis and everything.”

You blink at him and refocus on your laptop. You don’t want to know how he found you. Whether it’s cruel fate or something more sinister, you have more important things going on.

“You pack a real blow, you know that? I had a bruise and everything,” he complains, “not very nice and I’ll say I’ve been really nice to you.”

You continue to ignore him as you resume your response to Caroline. In hindsight, you would rather sit through the clanking of wrenches and pipes. You swallow your agitation, tuning out the silhouette just on the other side of your screen.

Suddenly, your laptop crushes your hands and your eyes pop up. Pete’s hand lingers on the cover as you snatch your fingers out from under it. You tilt your head in frustration.

“You look like a sweet girl,” he says, “but you’re not, are you?”

“Excuse me?” You hiss.

“Ah, come on, loosen up," he winks.

You shake your head and contemplate your options. You could pack up and go but you risk leading him back to your building. Telling him to go away isn't going to do too much and ignoring him only seems to encourage him.

"You like sweets? They got a great chocolate croissant."

"I'm not hungry," you insist and go back to typing. "I'm busy."

"Lonely too, by the looks of it," he leans forward, "let me buy you something, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick up and you give him a glare. You don't understand this man and he surely doesn't understand you. You're less than interested in any guy but especially not him. Your life has order and you value that. What little you can control, you hold close.

"You don't just come down to the cafe looking like you do and not want attention," he pushes on your laptop again and you stop it from closing. "I mean… how many dudes are gonna hit on a sick girl anyway? I accept you, babe, kidneys and all–"

"That's it," you snap, "get away from me. Now."

"Hey, it's a compliment–"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

"It's fine, we can move past this, I like a little fire–"

You flutter your lashes at him as your chest burns. You want to scream and cry at the same time. You look around, reminding yourself of your audience and take a deep breath.

"I'm asking you nicely…" your voice cracks, betraying you, "to go."

"I didn't do anything wrong–"

"There a problem here?" A deep growl has you shrinking further as Pete turns in his chair to look defiantly up at the man in the black apron.

"No problem. None of your business, bus boy."

The man with the black apron crosses his arms and scoffs, "big problem. I own this place so if you don't leave in the next fifteen seconds, I'll have you trespassed."

"Whatever, bro, me and the lady are having a chat–"

"He bothering you?" The man in the apron asks. You nod, breathless. "On your feet before I throw you on your ass," he growls at Pete.

"Like to see you try," Pete stands and puffs out his chest, "you're getting a one-star, bud." He crushes his cup into the man's apron, spilling the coffee down it, "coffee tastes like dirt anyway."

"Have a good day," the owner sneers, staring until Pete finally retreats, not without sending you a lecherous leer.

You watch after him and swallow, "I'm sorry–"

"You okay?" The man holds the dripping cup, foam on his name tag that reads 'Curtis'.

"Yeah, thanks," you murmur, "I didn't mean to make a scene."

"No worries, you need anything, just ask for Curt," he gives a curt bow and backs away, leaving your to wallow in a stormy rush of nerves.

[grandlinedreams]

Hii, how you doin, hope you doin well! Saw your request is open and can I request a strawhat crew reader who collets plushie and the strawhat crews reaction to it? Like when the reader first joined the crew there's only one or two plushie but every time they get to a new island the reader always gets a minimum one plushie of that island untill the plushies are everywhere in the sunny. Its okay if you deny my request and thankyouu if you take it. Thats all bye byee ♥️

Hiya papaya, I can absolutely do that!! That's so cute 🥺 I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: nothing but fluff!]

Luffy ㅡ definitely doesn't see anything wrong w your growing collection and sometimes will help you pick one out if you're having trouble choosing. Definitely the reason you have plushies that resemble each member of the crew in some way or another.

"Whoa, hey! This one looks like Zoro, don't you think?" It's a green tiger plush that's been marked down because it's missing an eye, and Luffy grins as he hands the plush to you. "You should definitely get this one!"

ㅡ

Zoro ㅡ doesn't understand why you have so many, but also won't tease you about it either. Probably uses one of them as a pillow in his usual napping spots because they're scattered everywhere. Once made the mistake of damaging one while training, and you didn't know about it until he dropped the (clumsily) repaired plush into your lap.

"Here." You blink at the sudden weight in your lap, staring at the bear who's left arm looks a little worse for wear. "It was an accident but I know these mean somethin' to you, so..." He huffs when you thank him. "Whatever. Don't get used to it, okay?"

Is he blushing? Maybe, just a little.

ㅡ

Nami ㅡ threatens to sell them for beri just kidding, she understands the value behind stuff that reminds you of a childhood you might not have gotten to enjoy fully ㅡ they may not be tangerine trees, but she gets it. Might scold you a little if you're bringing back something expensive, but also not above helping you pick them out, like Luffy. Also will pick one up for a cuddle if she needs it, but also will help repair them if they get damaged.

"Here you go." She hands you the little dog and when you give her a confused look, she elaborates. "I saw the idiots tossing this little guy around yesterday, so his stuffing got pretty lumpy and I wanted to fix it for you. Little guy's good as new."

"Thanks, Nami."

She smiles. "No problem. Next repair won't be free though, okay?"

She's half teasing, half serious. Watches as you cuddle the plush to you, enjoying the soft plush of it and faint scent of tangerines.

ㅡ

Usopp ㅡ also kind of confused because you're a pirate, what do you need with so many stuffed animals? If it's a comfort thing, he leaves it at that ㅡ also makes voices for them if you're upset and he's trying to cheer you up. Could also be talked into working with Frankie and trying to design something so that some of them aren't just toys, but he won't do it if you don't want him to.

"Mr. Cat saw you were upset and he wanted to come check on you." You watch as the bell around the toy cat's neck jingles with the way Usopp walks it over to you, then up at the sniper himself. He grins nervously, then offers the plush to you. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not right now," you say, but hug the plush to yourself and offer him a weak smile. "Thanks, though."

Usopp's smile widens just a little. "No problem."

ㅡ

Sanji ㅡ definitely thinks it adds to your charm, coos about your duality ㅡ how can someone so lethal in battle have such a cute side too? Picks them up out of harm's way (ie Luffy, Zoro, occasionally Usopp) when he sees them. Also occasionally humors you by talking to them like they're people too.

"Would they care for a drink too?" You look over at the oversized rabbit that's seated next to you and then laugh.

"It's a rabbit, Sanji." His cheeks pink a littleat you laughing, but you soothe it with what you say after. "We could definitely appreciate your company, though."

Also watches where he smokes, does his best to make sure no harm comes to the plushies or that they smell like smoke.

ㅡ

Robin ㅡ finds it cute that you have a hobby like that, but also is mindful of where they're scattere. Makes sure none of them are flung overboard on accident, or torn up by the usual activity on deck. Also borrows one from time to time, either for Chopper or for herself to keep her company while she reads.

"Thank-you for letting me borrow this little one," she says as she hands the owl plush back to you. "They're very soft."

"Aren't they?" You look down at the plush, then offer it back to her. "You can keep this one, if you want. I have plenty."

She stares for a minute, then smiles. "That's very kind of you. Thank-you."

The owl plush becomes a common presence around her when she has downtime, keeping her company.

[anjelicawrites]

Cringefail Throuple 💡

Tornado is the bestest boy - it’s official! But Michael’s possessiveness about Billy’s ass has got me thinking…

Can you tell us the story of Billy and Michael’s first time, just the two of them? Maybe Michael’s lecture got canceled one day, so he started wandering around town and somehow ended up at Billy’s flat. They start off just chatting and watching TV, but then Michael turns to Billy and says “so… I’m kinda horny?” This of course immediately makes Billy horny, but neither of them really know how to do the sex without reader’s presence or guidance.

How is that first boys-only fuck?

This thing took a turn on its own, beloved Cringefail Throuple 💡nonnie, I hope you like it!!!

Warnings: kissing, oral (male receiving), ass play, anal, overstimulation, Michael being a bit of an asshole.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

You're back home for the weekend, it's your parents' wedding anniversary, leaving your boys back at Oxford.

When you leave to go to the train station in the morning, Billy and Michael are still napping, both just awake enough to sleepily kiss you goodbye, before cuddling back into one another's warmth. Seeing how your relationship has grown from a weekend long booty call to a true bond between you three, makes you all giddy and happy on the inside: the chances of your relationship to go up in flames so high, you can't believe you three are still together!

This is going to be the first time Billy and Michael are going to be without you; you and Michael were together, before Billy, and usually have the time to meet up on campus. You and Billy try to spend your time off together as well, just being with one another. But it hasn't happened yet that your boys manage to be together without you. You hope Billy can survive Michael's abrasive personality, without you functioning as a buffer.

For them it's strange to wake up without you, to have the time to use the bathroom with leisure, instead of crunch on time because you're taking too long with your make up and hair, to not see you wearing their clothes as you are getting ready or have you kiss them before sprinting to your own classes.

Billy can lounge around for a while Michael, on the other hand, has to go to the library, he has a tight schedule he has to follow and an academic rival to destroy. This doesn't stop him from crowding Billy against a wall, loving the way Billy bashfully stares at him from under his long lashes, before kissing him, his tongue proprietary in Billy's mouth, their long bodies plastered against one another.

"See you later pretty boy."

Michael tells him before disappearing, leaving Billy breathless and with the flames of need burning in his belly.

Throughout the day you text them and there are some spicy pics of you once you get home, while you try different outfits. It suffices to say that, by evening, both Michael and Billy are horny, Michael has already told you he's gonna make you pay for the boner he had to spot at the library as soon as you get back to Oxford and the idea makes him even hornier.

Thanks to a change of shifts, Billy is home by the evening and is making tea. He hears the jingle of Michael's keys who calls out to him, and gets ignored because the potatoes are burning and Billy has no idea why.

Michael stares at Billy's wide back and his pert arse, the shift of his muscles as he works around the kitchen does nothing to quench the desire that's been simmering in his belly for the whole day. Michael had never thought he could fall for another man, bringing Billy in the relationship was supposed to be the simple fulfillment of a fantasy, those feelings came as a curve ball in between booty calls and, staring at Billy simply moving about, Michael can say he's never been happier. Or hornier.

"What?" He asks.

He knows Billy has said something but he was too lost in his thoughts to listen.

"How was your day?" "Have you seen the pics?"

Billy laughs: he knows fully what Michael means. His lunch shift had been complicated to navigate with a half formed boner in his pants.

"Do you want to do something about it?" Michael asks, blunt as usual.

Billy stops on his tracks, kettle in one hand, two mugs dangling from his index fingers; it's not like it's never happened, Michael making love to him or fucking him, but you were always there with them, helping Michael drive him absolutely mental with pleasure. And it's not like the idea hadn't been on the table for a long time, you three are an item, it had been times when Billy had been with you without Michael and Michael had done the same, the two of them never had the chance to be alone. The idea excites Billy beyond belief and terrifies him: he's never been with another man, alone, what if he fucks up and you're not there to help?

But a part of his brain has already decided and it almost feels like an out of body experience to set the kettle and the cups on the sink and to turn the oven off, before heading to Michael, who is staring at his boner with a knowing smirk on his lips.

Now it's time for Billy to have his comeuppance for the morning as he plasters his body against Michael's and removes his glasses, before slanting his mouth on his, lips on lips, passionate and hungry, Billy's arms caging Michael against the wall, their tongues sliding against one another when the moaning starts, hips rubbing, hands in the way as they try to undress one another.

Michael is faster or, perhaps, Billy's tracksuit bottoms are easier to get into than Michael's grandad's jeans are, either way Michael's hands finds its way under Billy's boxers and around his erect cock, jacking him fast with rough stroked around his already weeping head.

"Bed... ah!" Billy whines, his hips kicking.

They keep kissing, desperate for one another, teeth and lips bruising the delicate skin of their necks, as their hands get rid of their remaining clothes with something akin to desperation.

Michael finds himself on the bed with Billy's fingers busy removing his boxers brief, willing letting the head of Michael's cock catch the band and slap against his tummy with a whimper of pleasurable pain. Billy doesn't let Michael speak, his lips wound around his cock and start sucking fast and rough, following the rhythm of Michael's slim hips against his face with lewd, wet sounds, letting spit and precome fall from the sides of his lips as Michael fucks his mouth with abandon.

Billy whimpers when Michael's hand grabs his hair and forces him off his cock: did he do something wrong? Then he notices the way Michael is gripping his own erection in the attempt to stop himself from coming.

"Get on the bed."

The plain need in Michael's voice flies directly to Billy's cock and to the tight band of pleasure growing in his belly: he's so close it's a feat to scramble on the old mattress and turn on his back, his legs already spayed open for Michael, whose hand finds his erection again as the other squirts lube on his hole, before fingering him with fast pushes against his prostate.

Without you slowing him down, Michael's hunger prevails, followed by his need to drive Billy absolutely mad, have him at his mercy. He hears his whines and moans, he sees the way his hips follow the brutal rhythm he's set, how this whole body trashes on the bed, his tongue tastes the salt of Billy's sweat on his overheated skin and Micheal wants more. His fingers are cruel against Billy's prostate, the pushes are fast and deep, while his other hand is a vise around the base of his reddened cock, so tight that it hurts, the pain mingles with the pleasure in Billy's hazy mind, his back arches, his legs kick uselessly and he doesn't know if he wants to stop or to keep going, his whole body trashes desperately under Michael's as pleasure ebbs and ebbs, until it explodes with a scream.

Michael's fingers don't stop fucking Billy's hole, they simply slow a tiny bit as the other man's eyes slowly open up and focus on Michael's proud smirk, the second before a desperate whine leaves Billy's lips, when the feeling of his still full balls hits his brain.

"Ple..." he tries to say, his mouth too dry to function. "Please."

"What is that you want?" Michael is so proud if the way he's annihilating Billy.

"Too... please!"

Fat tears fall from Billy's long lashes: he needs to tell Michael, has to, but his body is not following his lead. If only you were here to be his voice!

"Slower!" Billy manages to scream.

Michael stares at him, at the way his face is scrunched in pain and pleasure. He observes Billy's body squirm under his, the way his hole gapes when his fingers splay him open. It's an intoxicating feeling to hold such power over Billy, whose responses are always so open, so rough. To torture him more is a temptation Michael has to fight: Billy would be so pretty, fighting against his own body and mind, begging Michael for mercy with his big blue eyes full of tears. Another time, he tells himself, maybe later, when his own cock isn't so hard and his balls so full; to play with Billy properly he needs a clear mind and now his own needs are taking control.

Gentler that he has been, Michael slips his fingers out of Billy's hungry hole and lies down on him to kiss him, slower than his body is screaming him to do, until Billy is breathing calmly under his body.

It's Billy who crawls upper in the bed and reaches inside the bedside table with a still shacking hand to retrieve the condom; he needs help to roll it on Michael's cock, his fingers not nimble enough to perform such a easy task, yet he can curl his hand around the heavy erection to slowly guide Michael towards his own entrance.

Michael whines when he breaches Billy's arse: the warmth and the tightness just perfect around his erection, the way he has to fight the clenching muscles, until Billy's body gives up with a long moan, all drives Michael mad with desire. When Billy's hips start following his, Michael's control snaps and he bends Billy's long body in a half to fuck him harder and faster, deaf to his own whines of pleasure and to the pain of Billy's feet kicking against his sides and back when the pleasure is too much, burns too hot inside of him, his poor prostate fucked without mercy, his back arching under Michael's unyielding weight.

Billy wants to say he's almost there, that he can't hold it anymore, but he's lost all control over his body, he's a mere crux of nerves and pleasure and overstretched muscles, the band in his belly tightens cruelly when Michael's hand finds his cock and his movements are fast and precise.

"Come, now!"

Michael barks, the pleasure licking at his spine spiraling out of control, until Billy's hole clamps around him, forcing him to come, so hard it almost hurts.

They tremble in each other embrace, their skin almost hurts with the way the aftershock travels through their nerves, their lips connect messily in a tired kiss as sleeps steals them away, warm and safe as their are, in each other arms.

Cringefail throuple taglist: @fan-goddess @solisarium

[jensensfanfic]

hi! if you're still taking daniel requests, could you write something where he and the reader are in their early-mid 20s and find out they're gonna be parents? maybe the reader gets the news at the doctor's office and surprises daniel when he gets home from work? wholesome domestic scenarios my beloved <3 thanks you!!!

LITTLE BEAN

pairing: daniel larusso x fem!reader

warnings: set in the present, daniel/reader are mid 20s but want kids, pregnancy, little mentions of anxiety - but it's just reader being nervous. not edited - i finished it mid work shift 😶

a/n: can we pretend he's mid 20s in that gif, please, despite the fact he doesn't age and looks so young lol. i don't write pregnancy fics often, so i it hope this is okay. i'm also worried i didn't stay true to his character... but again, i hope it's okay for you!!

—★•°°•☆°••°★•°°•☆°••°★—

The journey home from the doctor's office feels like a lifetime. Every second seems to tick by at a snails pace. The usual bus ride home only takes around 20 minutes, and today is no different. There's not much traffic, and more than half of the seats are empty, but somehow, time moves so much slower.

You pull out your phone to check for any new messages and hope to see one from Daniel, but there's nothing yet. You assume this means he's working a little later. For a moment, this bothers you... until you get an idea. You'd wanted Daniel to be at home for the surprise at first, but this way, maybe you would have time to set up something special.

You type a quick text to Daniel, asking him how long he'll be. He responds quickly, and you figure out you have just under an hour to pull together what you can.

You get off the bus one stop before home, and head into your local supermarket. At the back of the store is a bakery, where you ask for a pre-baked cake to be decorated with two simple words. The friendly woman behind the counter pipes the words in pink and blue frosting and takes only ten minutes or so to finish it. You thank her as she hands over the box with a smile on her face and congratulates you.

Next, you pick up a pack of sharpies and some balloons from the party aisle that are the same colours as the frosting on your cake. Then you head to the section you'll no doubt be frequenting over the next few months... nay, years. You try to be quick, but the shelves of cute stuffed animals leave you spoiled for choice and very indecisive. You question if you even need one, but before you can walk away, you spot the perfect option.

You pick up the soft little toy sheep, giggling, then run your fingers over the material of the gi it wears. "Perfect."

Honesty, if you'd seen the little guy before, you'd have bought it ages ago.

After paying for everything, you head for your apartment, with enough time to spare to sort everything out.

You tie some of the pink and blue balloons together and put them in the living room, next to the coffee table where you've set the cake. With the sharpies, you draw and write cute little messages on them. You lay two plates, two forks, and two napkins next to it, along with a knife. Then, you decide to put on one of your favourite outfits. One you'd usually wear on a date night, something that would definitely make Daniel curious when he came home to see it.

You take a deep breath and take out one last thing from the pocket of the coat you'd hung up by the front door. You gaze at the image in wonder while your free hand smooths over your stomach.

You move to go and find somewhere to put it, but then there's the sound of keys jingling and the opening of the front door. You move your hands behind your back and watch as Daniel enters your home, a frown already forming on his face.

"Oh. Hey, babe. Are you off somewhere?" He kicks off his shoes and shuts the door behind him, opening his arms for a hug. You wrap your arms around him, peck his lips, and then step back, careful not to drop or reveal the gift. "Is it date night? Oh, god, did I forget?"

"Uh, no. No, but I do have a surprise for you."

"Aw, thank you babe. Can I sit first?" You stop him with a hand on his chest when he looks towards the living room. He looks down at your hand and cocks his head like a curious puppy. "Uh..."

You chuckle nervously. "Ha. Sorry, but not just yet. Here. I bought you something."

Swiftly, you bring the toy from behind your bag and hold it between you, wiggling the sheep's little legs and smiling. Daniel's eyes light up at the simple, yet meaningful gift. He grins and laughs. "Oh, my God. A karate sheep? That's amazing!"

He takes if gratefully, inspecting the little patch on the gi. "Hm. Maybe Mr Miyagi can sew a mini bonsai patch for it. This flower patch is cute and all but this little guy has to be a Miyagi-Do student."

You snort and chuckle at him, thrilled that he likes his first surprise, but then your mind immediately switches to the second. The subject of your other gift is something you've both talked about for about a year now. Both of you want it, but it doesn't halt the anxiety that sits heavy in your chest. There is always the chance that Daniel may have changed his mind.

"Hey, babe?" You take a deep breath and reach up to cup his jaw, bringing his attention back to you. He sets the toy sheep on top of the shelf by the front door and brings his hands down to your waist, running circles there with his thumbs. "I have something else for you."

"Why do you seem so nervous? Whatever it is, I'll love it. You know I will."

"Come on." One final blow of air, and you take his hand, turning around and leading him to the room where the balloons and cake are waiting. "So..."

Daniel's mouth falls open. He glances between each balloon, reading the drawn-on letters that say things like, 'oh, baby', 'hey, daddy'. On some of them, you'd drawn little baby faces that look similar to the emoji.

He doesn't say a word yet, but you no longer feel that worry as he smiles, then laughs, then goes silent once more. He slowly sits down on the sofa and stares at the cake for a few moments. In blue and pink, the frosting reads, "WE'RE PREGNANT".

"Is this... are you... I mean, are you messing with me?" Daniel shoots up again, rounding the sofa to see you. "Please, this isn't a joke, is it?"

"No!" You snicker, then look up into his eyes. Your own eyes are full of promise, excitement, and... starting to water. "I wouldn't do that, I swear. Look, I have a picture."

"You have a picture already? Let me see." He makes grabby hands and you reveal your still-hidden hand from behind your back. "Oh..."

"The doctor said I'm 4 or 5 weeks." Tears start to fall from your eyes and you decide to take a seat on the sofa, your stomach filling with butterflies and your knees starting to feel weak at the way Daniel is looking at you.

"He looks like a little bean."

"'He'?" He joins you on the sofa, placing the photo down on the table. "You think it's a boy?"

"I have a feeling."

"This soon?" You laugh, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with gentle fingertips.

"Yep, but either way, I'm gonna be the best Daddy for the little bean, I promise." His eyes flicker to your stomach and he splays a hand out on your skin. "Hear that, bean? I love you so much. Your Mum, too. And I can't wait to meet you."

"Danny..." You fully burst into happy sobs and fling your arms around him. You giggle and repeatedly kiss the back of his neck. "I can't believe I thought for a second you wouldn't be happy about this."

"Of course I am, sweetheart." You feel the movement when he chuckles. "We didn't try to have a baby to... not have a baby."

"I still thought maybe–"

"Shh." He leans into the crook of you neck. "No, no, no. I'm so happy, baby. I can't wait to start this family with you." He kisses you back a couple of times before pulling away slightly. "Can we eat some cake now, it looks delicious."

You nod and he releases you, but keeps a hold of one of your hands. As he cuts a piece of cake for you, he lifts his brows and says, "You know what else? I can't wait to see our child lifting that All Valley trophy."

—★•°°•☆°••°★•°°•☆°••°★—

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

For the holiday asks: Lizzie and the Bald Boys?

BUT OF COURSE... join me below the cut for ot3 shenanigans 💙💙

Which one:

chooses the decorations (and which one does most of the work putting them up)

Elizabeth insists that they do an equal amount of choosing the decorations! (she goes through everything they've collected as three established adults and decides they need to put it ALL up.) she also insists on making putting it all up an Event, so they do it together, and Mark gets caught in the middle of an unreasonable number of disagreements about what goes where. he's very patient.

makes up the holiday menu

ROMANO. he will never say it in as many words but I think food is a love language for him. and he will NOT tolerate a cheap basic store-bought ham they're doing this the RIGHT WAY

gets caught singing “Baby, it’s Cold Outside” in the shower

also Romano. Mark walks past the bathroom humming along. Elizabeth sings the next line through the door and cackles when there's a tell-tale thud of something knocked off a shelf.

wants to take the perfect holiday photo

Mark :') he'll put it in his wallet next to Rachel's current school picture.

wants to go downtown, look at the decorations, and window shop

Elizabeth naturally... she has an itinerary and a guide to all the best Christmas lights shows and if they can find a terrifying animatronic Santa she WILL adore it and make them stay until they've heard all its awful songs

prefers to stay in and snuggle by the fireplace

Gretel. it's so cold out there... why do her people ever go away from the warm spot...

puts up the mistletoe (and which one tries to catch the other under it more)

I think at home Elizabeth put it up initially but they keep moving it around trying to surprise each other with it... c: at work though Romano (fully bluffing) is like HOHO... WHAT DO I HAPPEN TO BE STANDING UNDERNEATH...... WINKY FACE and gets a little Shocked Pikachu if it actually results in a smooch lol

buys the ridiculous fluffy socks

ELIZABETH. she gets the ones that have like... little Santa's elves with actual jingle bells on the hats. they're horrible and Gretel thinks if you're wearing them that means it's playtime, because you're jingling at her.

worries more about buying the perfect gift for the other

think I have to give this one to Mark lol. he second-guesses himself even when it's completely unjustified and usually ends up trying to get a second opinion, be it from Doug, Susan, Carol...

is better at buying gifts

I think they're all very thoughtful about gift-giving in different ways... but I imagine that Romano usually nails it with something perfect and unexpected.

is better at gift wrapping

tie between Elizabeth and Romano (pre-arm). post-arm, it's Elizabeth, because then Romano prefers to just use gift bags (both for giving and receiving).

holds the other’s hands to warm them up faster 

MARK :) he's helping! and if you've read this far I'll share a secret: in my ot3 longfic wip I have a scene drafted where he shares his gloves with Elizabeth... you know. to unsubtly bang on the wall about contrast re: Amanda Lee stealing his gloves fhsdlkfjdg

has a particular Christmas/holiday special they insist on watching each year

Mark is absolutely a Peanuts Christmas special kind of guy. Romano makes them watch It's A Wonderful Life every year. Elizabeth doesn't have access to all the ones she grew up with but once YouTube and streaming and all that get big... watch out

tells the other they love them first on Christmas morning

Mark does c': and every year Romano says "that better not be my whole present 🙄" and it remains exactly as funny every single year (read: I am laughing about it)

[rebornologist]

this just in—Belphegor sensory seeking and Fran sensory avoidance. No one asked for this, but these thoughts spawned in my head randomly so I will pretend the reborn gods just injected it into my psyche.

Belphegor, Fran, Mammon + sensory experiences ✧

♡ Bel fiddles with things a lot. He'll run his fingers across the blade of the knife, swinging it around and feeling the weight of it, dragging the cold steel against the fabric of his clothing, his skin, and even his tongue. He often ends up with small incisions on his fingers because of how he works with his knives and wires. Though, one cannot deny that he has mastered his craft.

He picks at the loose threads at the frayed edges of his old shirts. He likes the jingle of belt chains and the clink of metal against metal.

I can practically picture him smacking his gum, blowing bubbles with it, and twirling his hair absentmindedly as he sits bored in a meeting. He likes food with some chew to it, such as gummy candies, and also the raw richness of sashimi and the feeling of flesh being gnashed between his teeth.

He prefers cold drinks, the way sprinkles crunch between his teeth, fizzy cream sodas, and the frothy parts of a milkshake. He chews up straws like no one else.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊

♡ Fran doesn't like the feeling of his hair being blown around and whipping into his face very much, and the large hats he wears usually helps with that. He has much less to worry about feeling uncomfortable things on his face and head when it's (literally) covered up. On the days when he isn't wearing a hat, he'll put his hair up more often than not just to keep it off his neck. He loooves his homeostasis.

During the summer, he'll get annoyed really easily if he feels too hot, so he often hangs around in a tank top. The feeling of too much fabric against his skin when he's warm makes alarms just go off in his head, and his only saving grace growing up was the cold creek that he had near his home. He would dip his fingers into the freezing waters for the cooling and numbing effect to calm him down.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊

lil bonus ♡ Mammon's favourite thing to fiddle with is money of course, flipping it back and forth in their hands, smoothing out the bills and sorting coins into neat piles. They especially love crisp, new bills. They're the annoying person at the bank asking specifically for new bills.

They also like squishing things in their hands, anything soft and moldable in texture. They never do free labour, but can be convinced to help with fresh gnocchi prep.

[daybreakrising]

SENSES AND OTHER SPECIFIC HCs. // WRIOTHESLEY.

what  does  your  muse  smell  like  ?

iron and leather. the damp muskiness one might find in coastal caves or underground tunnel systems. tea leaves, sometimes accompanied by an aromatic flourish depending on which blend he's opted to drink that morning (and afternoon, and evening, and-). there's a freshness to it all, too, like the chill of a winter morning, and the salty tang of the sea that somehow permeates through the walls of rock and steel to linger in his wake.

what  do  your  muse’s  hands  feel  like ?

firm, strong, the skin calloused, fingertips tough and hardened from years of working, his knuckles scarred from brawls. his skin is dry and cool, softer on the backs of his hands than on his palms. his touch can be equal parts light as a feather and like an iron vice.

what  does  your  muse  usually  eat  in  a  day ?

whilst he eats slightly better than the convicts he manages (he doesn't have to draw lots, for example), he makes a point to share the same food. he was one of them, once, and he's accustomed to the offerings of the Fortress's kitchen. he drinks more tea than he eats food and, if particularly busy or absorbed in something, he'll skip a meal and drink more tea instead. yes, he knows that's not the same thing. no, he doesn't care.

does  your  muse  have  a  good  singing  voice ?

oh for sure. a pity no one will ever hear it.

does  your  muse  have  any  bad  habits  or  nervous  ticks  ?

he's a pacer. he'll wear tracks in the floor one day. he can't be still when he's nervous, or frustrated, and especially not when he's angry. as for bad habits - he cracks his knuckles and he does it often. it's entirely out of necessity, however. if he doesn't pop the joints on a regular basis, they start to ache, and eventually become painful.

what  does  your  muse  usually  look  like/wear  ?

he has a vibe and he sticks to it - monochrome tones with a hint of colour (red), close-fitting and immaculate, lots of adornments (chains, pins, etc) and chunky boots. he goes for that edgy look because it suits the image he presents, the image almost expected of him, but he also loves it for himself because he thinks (knows) he kills it. we don't talk about why he doesn't wear that beautiful coat properly.

is  your  muse  affectionate  ?  How  so  ?

he can be, but the way he shows it varies from person to person, and how willingly he displays affection depends on the setting and the company he's in. in private, with those he holds close, he's a huge fckn softie. edgy-looking boy has a heart of gold. if in a more public setting but in the company of those he's comfortable with, he shows his affection through gentle teasing and sass, light insults that he knows will be understood as fond. if in more professional (and/or public) settings amongst those he's not familiar with (or doesn't like / doesn't feel comfortable with) then only those who know him best will see the fondness and the affection in the quick glances he sends their way.

what  position  does  your  muse  sleep  in  ?

multiple positions. he's someone who can't stay still for long, even when asleep. whatever position he starts off in (and he can fall asleep in any position, anywhere) is not going to be the one he wakes up in. this isn't an issue when he's alone in a bed, but if he's sharing the space with someone else they're probably going to get kicked, hit in the face by flailing limbs, or partially squished beneath him when he (inevitably) rolls over them.

could  you  hear  your  muse  in  the  hallway  from  another  room  ?

this boy is a stomper. you can hear him and those chunky boots coming a mile away. add to that the various clinks and jingles of the chains and metal adornments on his clothes and you know the Duke is heading your way. he can, of course, be quieter when he chooses, or when a situation requires it, but when he's at ease, his presence always makes itself known long before you see him.

[along-the-devils-backbone]

(Nobody will ask these, I know, but I wanted to do them for Lydia!)

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite? - Lydia doesn't sleep with a stuffed animal, but she does curl into a ball to sleep. Now that she sleeps beside Benjamin, she usually curls up in his arms as tightly as she can, burrowing her face into his neck.

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child? - As a Florist, she adores plants & does her best to take care & protect them. She also has several horses, dogs, a raccoon, and two children (one adopted, one birthed).

Ask them to describe their love interest. - "He is kind and patient. Very giving. His eyes squint when he smiles, even though his lips are hidden behind his mustache. His beard is soft and red, peppered with grey, even though he has no hair on the top of his head. His glasses frame his face perfectly. He is strong and handsome, and always wears white, even when it's impractical. On his back, he carries the scars of a man who was tortured, and I kiss them every night.

Do they look good in red? - Lydia looks good in everything. Her dark skin really makes colors pop.

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about? - She would be shy, but ultimately would talk about her family, and how it is made up of those that she chose -- not the ones by blood. She believes in protecting them no matter the cost, and is honored that they choose to do the same for her.

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is? - Benjamin. He is her rock and keeps her grounded whenever she becomes anxious or gets ideas too big for her own head. She would never take advice from any of the other Callahans. Or Darius.

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words. - Kind, Gentle, Protective. Curious, Protective, Quiet.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them? - They intrigue her. Any time she can discover little bits and pieces about something that makes a bigger picture, she's all over it -- thus the reason she's investigating the Cult of Strix before they strike again.

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)? - Plants yes. They are living. Inanimate objects though, no.

What age do they most want to be right now? - 30's. She's settled down into being a mother, an entrepreneur, and found the love of her life. She doesn't want anything else & is looking forward to being the matriarch of the family.

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save? - Half and half. Save half to be used for responsible purchases for the future. The other half she would spend on beautifying the ranch, buying the horse she's always wanted, filling out her wardrobe, and spoiling the hell out of her friends & family with gifts.

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)? - She ADORES romance books, and has written two herself.

Name one thing their parents taught them. - Aside from how to read & write, it's to respect everyone. Give everyone a chance and the benefit of the doubt, because you never know someone's circumstances.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any? - She feels guilty for enjoying things that cost money, as she didn't have much growing up so anything extravagant, decadent, etc gives her guilt. However, when she knows it's safe to enjoy something, she does -- wholeheartedly.

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work? - Standing around while everyone wanders off into private conversations. She'd much rather be doing anything than standing idle.

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear? - Something with lots of embroidery, beads, and trinkets that jingle when she walks. She'd love to have a big floppy hat covered in flowers, and some fancy heeled leather boots with pearl buttons.

Do they like children? - Lydia ADORES children. She wants to be everyone's mom and adopts any little one she sees as her niece/nephew.

Kissing: tongue or no tongue? - Depends on the situation, but she's wholeheartedly in it for both!

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews? - Absolutely. As much as she can. She's always fearful that she'll come across as stupid because of her accent and memory problems.

What do they like that nobody else does? - The Swamps. Most people complain about how muggy & muddy it is -- but she loves wandering through the muck picking up Oleander, Feverfew, and Harrietum.

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw? - Lying about something big/Keeping something from her. She hates feeling like a child that needs protecting, and having people coddle her pisses her off more than anything.

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to? - She adores pet names! Her sister calls her "Lepatchka" and her husband calls her "my love". Lydia will call her sister "Mitaka Ki" (Mee-tah-kah kee), her brothers "Ciye Ki" (Chee-yay kee), her children "Mato la" "Mah-Tow Lah) (little cubs), Her husband is either "My Love" or "Ate Mato" (Ah-Tay Mah-Tow) (Papa Bear), and her grandfather is simply "Ate" (Ah-Tay) because he is more of a father to her than a grandfather. Darius is "Maste" (Mah-shtay) because he and her sister fuck like rabbits.

Stability or novelty? - Stability. Novelty is fleeting.

Honesty or charity? - Honesty. Anyone can lie & pretend to be a good person by being charitable. You have to mean it.

Safety or possibility? - A bit of both. She has a lot of hope in possibility, but will always choose safety if something is too dangerous and might hurt her friends or family.

Talent or effort? - Effort. Even if you suck at something, the fact that you put work into it means more to her than anything.

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)? - Vengeance. She's seen too many people get hurt to keep letting things pass by without something being done about it -- and she knows exactly who to call on to make sure those people get their just rewards.

Would they date a fixer-upper? - She never had the chance to. Benjamin blew her away! However if something ever happened to him, she wouldn't date anyone that needs that much work aside from showing them that they're worth her love.

What recurring dreams do they have? - Lots of dreams about her & Ben spending time in Guarma on the beach together, walking on the sand in the sunset, making love on the rocks, etc. She also has dreams about having more children. When it comes to nightmares, she often has night terrors surrounding the time she spent in Tall Trees with the Skinners, hiding & defending her people from the horrors of the cannibals.

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven? - She would find the cultists and slaughter every single one of them, and then go after the cannibals that killed & ate her adopted son. She would make sure they suffered in ways worse than those they had killed. They would never hurt anyone ever again.

oc asks that reveal more than you think

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Ask them to describe their love interest.

Do they look good in red?

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

What age do they most want to be right now?

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Name one thing their parents taught them.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?

Do they like children?

Kissing: tongue or no tongue?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?

What do they like that nobody else does?

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Stability or novelty?

Honesty or charity?

Safety or possibility?

Talent or effort?

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

Would they date a fixer-upper?

What recurring dreams do they have?

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?