#OH MY GOD I POSTED AT A DECENT HOUR

[bittersweetresilience]

there are twenty seven songs in my félix playlist which means a few more and i can do a monthly writing game. why am i saying this when i have several important wips i am meant to be doing? well, you see

[dragonji]

just got out of nezha2 showing . I will Never be the same<3

[heartmix]

I Love It - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Word Count: 900+

Warning: named your pet dog, bear. Tempted to name the dog after my dog.

Twelve Fics of Christmas - Secret Santa

A/N: zhou FINALLY got a good gift this year!

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

It was time for the annual paddock Secret Santa the F1 social team did with all the drivers. Honestly, you loved it. For the past few years, you got people you know pretty well so it was always easy to get gifts. You were one of the drivers who opted for meaningful and useful gifts instead of the silly ones, Zhou has gotten one too many Valtteri Bottas calendars. 

This year you pulled Max. Despite being so close, with you getting him a gift for Christmas every year anyway, you never pulled his name. You went back and forth if you should finally do a silly gift and save his real present for Christmas day. Your heart wouldn't allow you to do that and opted for both gifts to be sentimental. 

Max on the other hand pulled your name and to say he was freaking out was an understatement. He was also one to get you a present every year. It was always simple with a new purse or perfume, but he knew he couldn't pull that off for this silly video. He wanted to make this one special. 

As the weeks crept up you thought of the perfect gift, a neon sign with his cats' names on it so he could set it up by his streaming set-up. Sassy's name was red while Jimmy's name was blue, red bull colors of course. It was perfect and you happily handed it to the social media manager to give to him, excited to see his reaction when the video came out. 

Max was still freaking out. They would be exchanging gifts next week and he was still empty-handed. He was never good at gift-giving, opting for universally agreed upon "good presents." He needed to bring in reinforcement which was in the form of Daniel.

"What am I supposed to get her?!"

"I don't know why you are so stressed about this." That was a lie. Danny knew why he was stressed, he just wanted to see if Max wouldn't admit his crush. 

"I want to actually give a good gift, not just some expensive thing."

"Because you like her!" Daniel said with the goofiest smile on his face. He knew his best buddy had been crushing on you for years, but this was the first time he was freaking out about something so trivial. It was just an annual video the F1 media team did. He could get you a mug and you would love it.

"Daniel don't start." He couldn't help the sigh that came out. If he liked you or not he still wanted to get a decent gift. Maybe he was stressing too much, but he couldn't help it. 

"Okay okay. What does she like?"

"Music, sports, movies, animal-" As Max went on Daniel couldn't help but roll his eyes. Maybe that wasn't the right question to ask. He should've known to be more specific or the Dutchman would talk his ears off about you for hours. 

"I'm going to stop you right there. Let me ask again. What does she love most in this world."

"Her dog," Max said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Okay get her something relating to her dog." 

A huge grin slowly made its way onto Max's face, "I got it! thanks, Daniel!" Before Daniel could respond the facetime call ended.

When it was Max's turn to hand in his present he couldn't help but do it with a smile. Since he was stressing so much he didn't have much time to get it ready, but nothing a little money to rush the order couldn't help. Just like you, he can't wait for the reaction to be posted. 

"Okay, here you go." the media personnel said handing you the gift as the camera was rolling. 

"I can't wait." You excitedly said tearing open the wrapping paper.

As you tore open the gift you couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face, as you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock. "oh my god!"

"What is it?"

"It's a painting of my dog, bear! He's sitting in my car!" You happily flipped the painting to show the camera. "Max pulled my name?" You asked which shocked the people behind the camera at how fast you guessed.

"How did you know?"

"I just know." You said with the biggest smile running your hands all over the picture. "Did you give him his gift yet?"

"Yeah, we did him before you."

"I need to go find him." You rushed out before they needed anything else from you.

"Max!" You called out his name. Before he could process who called him you tackled him in a hug almost making him trip. 

"Woah, what's all of this for." He chuckled wrapping his arm around you to brace the both of you.

Slowly you pulled away from him holding the painting up with glee, "I love my gift, it's the best thing I ever got."

At this, he couldn't help but smile as he could feel heat rush right to his cheeks. You loved the gift. He swears your smile was bigger over the gift than your first win. Or maybe he was tricking himself into thinking that. Either way, you loved your gift and that's the reaction he was hoping for. 

"Looks like you're not the only good gift giver on the grid." He nudged your shoulder earning a giggle.

"How did you even think to get this?" 

Now it was your turn for your cheeks to heat up. "Well some of the best gifts I ever got are based around my cats so I took a page out of your book." 

"Well I love it, thank you." Again you pulled him into a hug not knowing what else to say besides thank you. If Secret Santa earned him this type of hug, he hoped to pull your name every year.  

"Anytime Schatje."

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 1 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you're an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them. Originally posted to AO3

Chapter Summary: Your new(ish) co-worker has a special talent: getting on your nerves.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Swearing (if that even counts).

You’re ending the first half of your 24-hour shift the same way you always do—dinner with the team. Well, at least that’s how you try to end the first half of your shift. Of course, that’s also assuming that both the fire and medical teams are actually at the station and not on a call.

All things considered, this probably only happens once a week, if that.

When it works out, though, it’s a good time. You already spend a lot of time in the rig with Hen and Chim, being an advanced paramedic and all. When it comes to the firefighters, though, you aren’t as well-versed, so it’s nice to have a weekly ‘getting to know you’ session. It seems like these days, it’s a 50/50 shot if they’ll make it to next week's dinner.

The firefighting crew at the 118 is a revolving door of macho men. When you first started, it was Chim, Tommy, and Sal. Chim became a paramedic, so he didn’t exactly ‘leave.’ Sal got relieved of duty, so he didn’t really have a choice. Tommy left, but for something better. Maybe it isn’t so much the job that makes people leave; maybe being a firefighter at the 118 is a stepping stone for bigger and better things.

There is one firefighter that, if he left, you wouldn’t be heartbroken. In fact, it would probably make your shifts a whole lot better.

Evan Buckley, aka ‘Buck.’ God, even thinking his name makes you want to gag a little.

He’s a decent kid, but he’s just that: a kid. He’s a Probie; he’s only been on the job for about 4 months, and no one would assume otherwise. His heart is in the right place, but his brain hasn’t caught up yet. You’re starting to fear it never will.

“I know exactly what that polite, distant smile means: she’s bored,” Chim says as he leans over the counter, pulling you right out of your thoughts and back into reality. “This woman is so far out of my league, but she’s once-in-a-lifetime… I can’t let her go.”

“Lots of fish in the sea,” Bobby, your captain, chimes in. He leans over to pull something out of the oven.

“Not with the bait he’s using,” Hen remarks as she walks by. Her arms are full of dishes to set the table with.

“Amen, sister,” you agree, hot on her heels. She gives you a small smile and hands you the plates, which you accept with a smile of your own.

“Cruel, but true,” Chim sighs. “I met her on this new dating site, just for cops and firefighters, RomancingTheUniform.com. She’s an adrenaline junkie, so foreplay is me telling her stories about running into burning buildings and jumping into icy lakes and…”

“I’m sorry, wait,” Hen interrupts, “remind me: when was the last time you ran into or jumped over anything?”

“...I embellish a little.”

“Oh, noted.”

“So is she a cop or a firefighter?” You ask.

Chim gives you a look. “Why would she be?”

“Well, you said the website is for cops and firefighters,” you repeat. “Doesn’t that make her a cop or a firefighter?”

“Okay, it’s not just cops and firefighters,” Chim cedes, “it’s also for people that want to date cops and firefighters.”

“Ohhh,” you smile, “so cops, firefighters, and badge bunnies. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m telling you, the uniform is a major aphrodisiac,” Chim continues as he brings a salad to the table.

“Yeah, hence the term ‘badge bunny,’” you remark.

The conversation is interrupted by one of the engines backing into the station. You probably should have noticed it was gone, but frankly, as long as your rig is in the bay safe and sound, you don’t care what the meatheads are up to.

Speaking of meatheads…

“Oh good, PB is back,” you remark sarcastically.

‘PB’, aka ‘pretty boy,’ aka Buck. You started calling him Pretty Boy his first day, and over the months, you shortened it. He jogs his way up the stairs and dips a finger in the communal spaghetti bowl. You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee.

“Wash your hands!” Hen scolds as she pulls the bowl out of his reach.

“What if there’d been a call?” Bobby asks as he brings the last dishes to the table.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Buck defends himself. He takes one of the plates from Bobby’s grasp, but instead of passing it around like a normal person, he starts eating the food off the plate with his dirty hands. Sometimes, you wondered if he was raised by a pack of stray dogs.

Bobby starts lecturing Buck, and you smirk with a little satisfaction. Bobby’s going to write him up, and truthfully? It’s a long time coming.

“First infraction, two more, and you’re out,” Bobby says as he steals back the plate. “Wash your hands.”

“You know, you're not helping him by going easy on him,” Chim says once Buck is out of earshot.

“He just needs a little direction,” Bobby replies.

“I’ll remind you of that when he gets us killed,” you mumble.

The alarm bells start to sound through the station. Everyone groans, including yourself. So much for dinner.

Chim decided to catch a ride with the boys in the truck, so that leaves you and Hen in the rig.

“I’m sorry, dispatch,” you say into the radio, “118 RA responding: did you say the baby is in the wall?”

“10-4, 118,” the dispatcher responds. “Caller reports hearing a baby crying in his walls.”

“Copy that, 118 RA clear,” you say before hanging the radio back up. “Well, this will be fun.”

“You think you can play nice with Buck?” Hen asks, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, I’m always nice,” you reply.

“Not to him!” She laughs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes the second he got back to the station.”

“I can play nice and still think he’s a raging idiot,” you defend. “Besides, since when are you his biggest fan?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Hen chuckles. “And I love you, but you don’t know how to play nice.”

“Why be the bigger person when you can be the bigger problem?”

That remark gets a full belly laugh out of Hen. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Hen parks the rig behind the engine in front. The boys come pouring out immediately, grabbing various tools and equipment. You make your way to the back of the ambulance, tossing Hen her med bag before picking up your own.

You follow the rest of the crew upstairs, and before you know it, the five of you are standing in some random guy’s apartment, listening for something that probably isn’t real.

“Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying,” the man says. “Someone flushed a baby down the toilet.”

Hen picks up a bong off the counter and gives the man a look.

“I’m not high.”

You both raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m pretty high, but it’s Sativa,” he says. “It makes you happy. It doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Chim shrugs. “Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls.”

You frown. At the end of his sentence, you swore you heard a cooing sound.

“Shh,” you say to everyone, walking over to the bathroom. “Did you guys hear that?”

They're hot on your heels, watching as you take your stethoscope from around your neck and put it into your ears. You place the bell on the wall and wait. When you hear nothing, you begin rapping your knuckles on the tile until you do. Once again, it’s a faint cooing sound, not unlike a baby.

You then knock your knuckles on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. You take a marker from your pants pocket and mark an ‘x’ over it, knowing the space behind it is hollow. You take the stethoscope out from your ears.

“We need to open up this wall,” you say, pointing to the ‘x.’

“No, we’re being punked,” Chim disagrees. “It’s a tape recorder or something.”

“Maybe not,” Hen says, stepping forward. “Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it.”

“Okay, first of all, that's awful,” Chim says. “Second, do you know how pipes work?”

“If the baby is premature, its bones can bend and compress like sponges,” Bobby mentions. “We need to get in there.”

“Stand back, I got this!” Buck says, swinging his fire axe over his shoulder.

He runs up towards the wall with full intentions of swinging. Hen and Chim move out of the way and shout while Bobby tries to grab him. Ultimately, you’re the one to stop him, and you do it by placing both hands on the axe.

“Hey! Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?!” You shout, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream.

Buck just stares at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” you spat, pushing the axe out of the way.

“Buck, go get the saw,” Bobby directs.

“Try to find some common sense while you’re down there,” you call after Buck as he walks out.

“Nice catch,” Bobby says, looking at you.

“How nice of me to save the baby from one of the LAFD’s finest first responders,” you reply bitterly.

You can’t help but look at Hen, who quickly looks away. Her avoidance gives you a small sense of victory because this? This shit right here? This is why you can’t play nice with Buck. His head is screwed on backward, and it can get people killed. Playing nice isn’t going to fix that.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the saw from Buck once he brings it up. He makes a few small cuts in the wall before he and the other boys are pulling at the drywall. They quickly expose a massive pipe running behind the toilet.

“That thing is huge,” you remark to Hen.

“It probably connects a bunch of the toilets in the units above this one,” Hen returned.

“So… even with the water turned off…” you start, a sense of dread filling your stomach.

“If someone above us flushes the toilet, it could drown the baby,” Hen finishes. Almost before she finishes the sentence, she’s running into the hall, yelling for people not to flush their toilets. The boys make a few cuts into the pipe, and in no time, they’re taking it to the floor.

“Guys, I can see the head,” you say, joining them on the floor.

They make a few more cuts until the pipe is one straight segment.

“Get the head out,” Chim instructs.

“Yeah, you gotta push from below,” Buck chimes in.

You try that, but the baby isn’t moving. You look to the corner, then at Buck.

“Bring me the defibrillator,” you instruct clearly.

Buck scrambles over, picking up the case.

“Just the lube, Buck,” you rephrase, but he’s already coming back with the whole thing.

“Take it, take it,” Buck says, passing it off to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the lube out and tossing the rest of it to the side. You pour some lube on the baby’s head, then down by its feet.

“Work that in,” you tell Chim.

You move your index finger around the circumference of the pipe, brushing the baby’s legs with lubricant as you do so. Then, you gently apply pressure to its feet, and slowly, you can feel it move forward.

“This is gonna be a scoop and run,” you mumble.

“Hen, get the ambulance ready,” Bobby tells her. You’re not sure when she got back, but when you look up again, she’s gone again.

Slowly, the baby’s head emerges from the pipe, and the rest of her body follows.

“She’s not breathing,” you quickly note, “starting CPR.”

You place your index and middle finger in the center of the baby’s chest and press down fast and hard. “Looks like her airway’s obstructed.”

“Buck, get the bulb syringe,” Chim demands. A few seconds pass. “Buck, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Buck barks back, clearly in a panic.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you say quietly as you continue compressions. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Buck returns with the bulb syringe and uses it, but it doesn’t help.

“Dammit,” you curse. “You’ll have to try a blind finger sweep.”

Buck looks at you, then Chimney, then the baby, then back at you. “Me?”

“You gotta learn somehow,” you remark. “It’s easy: just turn her head to the side, curl your pinkie, and see if you can scoop anything out.”

Buck is hesitant initially, but he eventually does as you tell him. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to clear the obstruction, and the baby begins crying. Everyone laughs with relief.

“Let’s get her wrapped up,” you say, reaching for a towel.

The four of you rush down the hall, you with the baby in your arms. The pit in your stomach returns.

“No one held the elevator?!” you yell.

“Dammit,” Chim curses.

“Give her to me,” Buck says, nodding to the stairs.

You stare at him.

“Come on, I’m twice as fast,” Buck pleads.

“Screw this up, and I’ll kill you,” you threaten before carefully handing her over.

Buck takes off down the stairs, but you follow after. There’s only so much that can happen in a few flights of stairs, but you aren’t willing to risk it.

“I got you,” Buck says to the baby, “you’ll be okay.”

A faint smile crosses your face. Maybe Buck isn’t so terrible after all.

“Come on, move it!” Buck shouts as you both make it out of the lobby and out to the rig.

You climb into the ambulance with him, but before either of you can even sit down, you hear someone yelling to wait. It’s not just anyone: it’s LAPD Sergeant Grant, or as you’ve heard Hen calls her, Athena.

“Wait, is that the mother?” Buck says, looking at the young woman with blood-stained pants in someone’s arms. “Yo, screw her! Look what she did!”

Never mind. Buck is still terrible.

“Sit down and shut up!” You yell at Buck. “This is not your call! She is a child, and she’s bleeding out!”

“Look what she did!” Buck repeated.

“Come on, let’s get her up here,” you say to Athena and the man carrying the young girl, disregarding Buck’s protests.

Bobby and Chim made it down, so they help haul the young girl up into the rig. Chim stays at the head while Bobby sits next to Buck, the spot you were about to sit in mere moments ago.

“If this baby dies, it’s on you,” Buck says, staring at Athena.

“Stop talking, Evan,” you snap as someone closes the ambulance doors.

Using his actual name seems to shut him up.

“What’s your name, honey?” You ask the baby’s mother as you cut away her shirt to place EKG leads.

“Marika,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re scared, Marika, but you just have to keep breathing for me, okay?” you say. “My friend Howie is going to start an IV so we can give you fluids and medication. You’re bleeding a lot, so I have to do what’s called a fundal exam, okay? I have to press on your stomach to make sure your uterus is contracting back down normally.”

She stares at you, eyes filled with tears, before eventually nodding.

Using one hand to stabilize over the pubis, you begin pressing down the other into Marika’s stomach, a few fingerbreadths below her belly button. She lets out a few whimpers. You don’t feel the fundus, or the top of the uterus, like you should.

“Marika, you’re bleeding a lot because your uterus isn’t contracting. I have to make it contract by doing a fundal massage. It won’t feel that good, but it could save your life.”

Once again, Marika looks at you before nodding. This time, she closes her eyes.

Using firm and consistent pressure, you push one hand down where the fundus should be and make small circles. Marika lets out a few more cries of pain. You notice that, after a few minutes, the bleeding starts to slow, and her uterus firms up beneath your hands.

“Hospital ETA 5 minutes, hang in,” Hen chimes in from the ambulance's cab.

“Something’s wrong,” Buck says, staring at the baby in his arms.

You quickly move over to him. “Put her in your lap so I can see.”

Buck listens, moving away the towel so you can look at the baby. She’s cyanosed around the lips. You flip open a compartment and pull out the neonatal ambu bag. You hand it to Bobby, and you don’t even have to tell him to start bagging.

“I’m so sorry,” Marika says. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bobby squeezes the bag every other second, delivering a breath to the baby. Her color is starting to look better, but she isn’t very responsive.

“Here, let me try something,” you say.

You gently pick up the baby and set it on Marika’s bare chest. After a few moments, the baby begins to move and cry out.

“Oh my god, why did that work?” Marika asks, wrapping her hands around her baby.

“Skin-to-skin can help babies regulate bodily functions, like temperature and breathing,” you reply as you place a towel over them.

You look over to the men sitting next to you. Bobby gives you a nod, and Buck avoids eye contact, but you can tell that he’s pissed. Fuck him, he doesn’t know his head from his ass anyways.

Once the rig pulls into the ambulance bay, you and Chim help the ER staff get the gurney out of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck follow suit, only Buck tries to follow them into the hospital. Bobby stops him before he does.

Bobby gives Buck some lecture about how we did our jobs, and now it’s their turn; it’s the speech every overly excited first responder gets at least once at the start of their career.

A cop car pulls up, and Athena comes out. She clearly found the person she was looking for, because she starts yelling at Buck.

“You do not get to choose who lives and who dies,” she lectures.

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job,” Buck retorts.

You could seriously slap him.

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby,” Athena continues yelling, pointing a finger at the hospital. “You’re gonna get someone killed.”

“Well, maybe, but not today,” Buck says with a cocky head tilt.

You laugh humorlessly. “You know what, Pretty Boy?” you say, turning to Buck.

Fuck it. Bobby won’t put him in his place, and Athena isn’t allowed to, so you take matters into your own hands, literally.

Before you even fully comprehend what you’re doing, you’re wrapping a hand around Buck’s throat and pushing him against the ambulance. You aren’t choking him, but you don’t move your hand because keeping it there is your only leverage.

“I’m getting real tired of this tough guy bullshit,” you growl, your face only an inch from his. He’s quite a bit taller than you, but when you bounced him off the rig, his footing faltered, so he’s crouched at your eye level. “You wanna get real, Evan? You didn’t do a goddamn thing today except get in the way. While we were busy saving lives, you were shitting your pants and dropping the ball, not exactly what a tough guy is supposed to do.”

“Okay, enough,” Bobby says, trying to break it up. You’re far from finished, though.

You move your hand from his neck, but only so you can point it in his face. “You aren’t a god — you don’t decide who lives! You didn’t even save a life today: we did, because you kept fucking up. And if you keep fucking up like you did today, you definitely will kill someone, and your little jokes and midday booty calls and your shitty little grin won’t change that!”

Bobby ends up physically pulling you away while Athena makes some room between the two of you.

“Aren’t you going to arrest her or something?” Buck says, rubbing his neck. “She assaulted me!”

“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Athena counters. “I promise you, Buckley, the next time you screw up? It’ll be your last.”

Athena casts Bobby a glance before she walks away.

“You,” Bobby says, looking at Buck, “in the truck. Now.”

You start to walk over to the passenger’s side of the cab when Bobby calls after you.

“I want you in my office the second we get back,” He orders.

You clench your jaw. “Yes Captain.”

Ch 2

[ilonii]

Roomies G.S

✧ s.m - the everyday life of you and roommate suguru geto

w.c - 1.1k

warnings. fem reader, use of y/n, slight nsfw, mentions of sex, mentions of nudity, flirtatious behavior, brief gojo x reader, etc.

an. second installment of the jjk roomie series. for the next post, do you guys want sukuna or choso? comment your picks below.

Roommate Geto who honestly, you forgot even lived there. Between the tattoo shop and hanging out with Gojo any chance he gets, he’s rarely ever home.

Roommate Geto who only really talks to you when it’s time to pay his rent. The first Sunday of every month he knocks on your door and hands you an envelope full of cash, that he makes sure you count so you know he isn’t gonna short you.

Roommate Geto who, whenever he actually is home, cooks some of the most amazing food you think you’ve ever had.

“Geto oh my gosh, this is the best chicken parm I’ve ever tasted”

“I thought you said you’ve never had it before”

“Okay, so? I don’t have anything to compare it to but it’s still out of this world”

“You're funny, thanks pretty"

"You are very welcome"

Roommate Geto with the MOST annoying best friend you've ever met.

“Gojo, for the love of God, how many times do I have to tell you to stop eating all my snacks. I know for a FACT Geto buys plenty for you to eat while you’re here”

“Well I finished all the ones he got me last night”

“That doesn’t mean you eat mine asshole”

“Fine sorry. Here’s 40 bucks go by yourself so more. Oh! and while your out could you get me some of that strawberry mochi, you only had the mango flavor, not one of my favorites but I can’t be too picky I guess”

“You are unbelievable”

“Why thank you”

Roommate Geto who has the worse timing humanly possible. What are the odds that the one time you forget you towel and have to run from the bathroom to your bedroom, at the very same time Geto decides to pop his head outside his room for the first time today.

“Oh my gosh.”

“Oh…my..gosh”

“ARE YOU LAUGHING”

“No, no no im not im nottt”

“YOURE STILL LAUGHING”

“I mean I’m not laughing AT you, your body’s amazing, it’s just that-”

“EXCUSE ME”

“What? I call em like I see em”  

“are you serious right now?”

“are you naked right now?”

“I’m leaving”

“Just like your towel”

“SCREW YOU”

“Just say the word sweetheart”

Roommate Geto who after the “incident” won’t let you live it down.

“You know, its rude to laugh every time you see someone”

“Well, it’s also rude to run around the house naked and not tell anyone”

“It was a MISTAKE”

“that’s what they all say”

Roommate Geto who is a major tease. It’s like every time you see him, he’s shirtless, sweaty and begging to be licked.

“What are you staring at”

“Nothing”

“I don’t knowww, it kinda looks like you were staring at my abs if you ask me”

“Well, I mean, you’ve got em just sitting there, all on display and whatnot so I mean could you blame me really”

“guess not.”

Roommate Geto whose surprisingly….unlucky in love? He was up to four dates this week and returned home alone, once again.

“Hey, how’d it go”

“Idk man, maybe the problem is me”

“Why, what happened”

“She was just so boring and so superficial. I mean oh my gosh all she talked about the entire time was about how good all her ex’s told her she was in bed and how at the end of the date she’d give me SUCH a good time.”

“Wow, what a date”

“I know, like gosh I don’t remember it being this hard to get laid, like ever”

“Well, if you’re tryna just get screwed then you’re being a bit picky don’t you think, I sure she was a decent enough lay”

“Well, I mean yeah, but I’d also like to sleep next to someone I wanna get up and make breakfast for in the morning”

“I mean, you got me there”

Roommate Geto who talks you into letting him do your first tattoo.

“Oh cmon, don’t be a baby”

“Don’t be a baby? This is a permanent decision, not something to be taken lightly, AT ALL”

“It’ll be something small, in a place that won’t hurt too bad, it’ll take at the absolute most an hour”

“What would I even get”

“Something small and cute that represents you, that you won’t regret in forty years. And that’s not a butterfly.”

“What’s your beef with butterflies”

“You know how many teenage girls I give butterfly tattoos to each and every week? I’m so tired”

“Well, you’re in luck, I was actually thinking about something else”  

“So, you’ll let me do it”

“Yeah, why not. Yolo right”

“YES”

Roommate Geto who has a surprisingly large, sweet tooth.

“Geto, did you have Satoru over recently”

“Yeah, he was over last night, why what’s up”

“He ate all three of my packs of mango mochi. AGAIN”

“Oh um, actually that was me”

“You ate it? Since when did you start eating sweets like that”

“It’s a bad habit I pick up every now and then, I’m really sorry, I left some money on the counter for you to get some more, did you see the note?”

“I saw the money, no note. I left it there because I figured you just forgot it there or something”

“Nah, it’s all yours”

“Thanks, hey so that one-time last month when I got that strawberry cake and it disappeared the next day you blamed it on Gojo even though I didn’t even remember him being here, that was you”

“Uhhh, yeah”

“An entire cake Geto? Get a grip”

Roommate Geto whose been home an unusual amount.

“You’ve been home a lot recently, what’s up”

“Tired of seeing me already?”

“No, but I mean, I used to forget you lived here you were gone so long, and now you’re here no later than eight every day. Believe me I enjoy the company but it’s worth mentioning”

“Yeah, everything is fine, I just idk, have had more reason to be home recently”

“Yeah, reasons like?”

“You”

“What?”

“What?”

“What’d you just say”

“Nothing, why do you ask”

“But you just-”

“I just what?”

“hmm”

“Hmm”

Roommate Geto who you might have a crush on. I mean in your defense; he’s been turning up the flirt tenfold, and when there's an impossibly hot, tattooed guy cooking, cleaning and flirting with you, it's hard to help your feelings.

Roommate Geto who you, scratch that, DEFINITELY have a crush on. That's probably why you ended up in his bed last night.

“Geto, where are you going. You know its rude to sleep with someone and disappear in the morning”

“Well seeing as how we’re in my bed, I think you’d have to be the one to sneak off on me. But relax, I’m just gonna go make breakfast. You got anything in mind?”

“Mmmm how about, pancakes”

“Whatever you wish beautiful”

border by @bunnysrph

I hope you all enjoyed. don't forget to comment choso or sukuna next post.

[moonhoures]

Knew Better

🕷️ kinktober — day 26: spanking 🕸️

pairing: seungcheol (seventeen) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, spanking, marking, implied dom!cheol, husband!cheol <3, sir kink, pain kink (reader), reader is called ‘good girl’ and ‘baby’, cheol is called ‘honey’ and ‘baby’

word count: ~980

synopsis: accidentally standing your husband up for a lunch date leads to a punishment that is well deserved

a/n: happy halloween 🎃

posted: october 31, 2023

kinktober masterlist

The text you had just gotten from your husband might as well have said “You’re fucked”. You hadn’t done anything bad—that you were aware of, at least—but when you received a menacing text from him, you swiftly accepted your fate. Which was presumably a punishment for you when he would get home from work.

cheol 💍: You better be in that bedroom at 4 when I get off.

Those words haunted you for the following hours after you received it, each hour passing causing anxiety to creep further into your psyche. Had you said something? Did something? Not said something? Not done something? The thoughts flurrying in your brain were almost making you dizzy.

By 4 o’clock sharp you were in your bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed with your hands in your lap. You twiddled your thumbs. Your bottom lip was being gnawed on restlessly between your teeth, sure to leave indents in the delicate skin. You flinched when you finally heard the front door open, then close. The threatening sounds of your husband’s footsteps making their way down the hall nearly sent your stomach up into your throat. When he finally appeared in the threshold of your room, your heart was almost beating out of its cage. What could you possibly have done that was so bad?

Despite your anxiety about the situation, you couldn’t help but find his looks and attitude extremely attractive. He was your husband after all. The casually styled hair. The untucked shirt. The tie he was already pulling loose as he looked at you with straight lips and dark eyes. It was all very enticing.

“So? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

You gulped, “No, honey, I don’t even know what this is about. Did I say something wrong?”

He chuckled, humorlessly, “No. No. You did, however, blow me off for our lunch date today.”

As soon as the words left his lips, you were gasping softly. You did blow him off. But not intentionally! In fact, as you made your own lunch today, you had a thought that you felt like you were forgetting something. It was an eerie thought, one that made you stop in your tracks with your plate in hand before you sat at the table to eat. But after a minute of nothing coming to mind, you came to the conclusion that it must not have been important. Oh, how wrong you were.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Cheol. I completely forgot,” you tried to explain, but your husband held his index finger to his lips and you instantly shut up.

“You’re lucky I’m in a decent mood today. You’ll only get ten.”

Instantly you felt relief flood into your entire being. Ten spanks; you could handle that. The last time you had gotten punished for sending nudes to him while he was at work, and he gave you a good thirty smacks (fifteen on each ass cheek). Your skin was marked for days and the subtle sting lasted even longer. You enjoyed a good spanking, but sometimes they could be more pain than pleasure. Ten would be perfect.

You tried not to seem to happy, in case he decided to up the number. You waited patiently and quietly, just like he always wanted you to be. When he sat beside you and patted his thigh, you climbed into the usual position.

Your knees dug into the mattress on one side of him while your hands secured your upper half on the other side of his lap. If you were to lower yourself, your stomach would be lying on top of his thighs. But he wanted you to use your strength to hold yourself up—this was a punishment after all.

“You’re gonna keep count like a good girl, right?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

He hummed in approval, his hands already kneading your ass over your shorts. He did that for a moment before he unceremoniously tugged the garment down around your knees along with your underwear. Your cunt felt a cool breeze from the A/C circulating in the room; you shivered.

“And you’re already wet? I haven’t even done anything yet,” Seungcheol commented, shaking his head, “Let’s add another one.”

“Eleven?” you asked incredulously.

“Yep. Count ‘em.”

Slap.

You gasped, not expecting the first one so soon. After a second you said, “One.”

Nine slaps against your cheek later, that familiar, searing sting was permeating throughout your lower half. It didn’t help that he left his wedding ring on, which only hurt even more. You were almost certain there would be an outline of his hand as he did every single smack on your left ass cheek.

“How many is that again, baby?”

“Ten.”

“Make this lucky number eleven,” he smirked to himself as he landed one, last, good slap on top of the same spot he had been going at. Your body flinched at the impact, and your cunt clenched around nothing, oozing a little more arousal out. This wasn’t unnoticed by your oh-so-observant husband who then spread your cheeks apart to get a good look at it, “You really like this shit, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, secretly praying for him to touch you, lick you, fuck you, anything.

“You don’t really deserve to be treated nicely after your forgetfulness today, though, huh?”

“I’m sorry, baby, really. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We can go to your favorite lunch place, my treat! I’ll even get dessert.”

He scoffed out a laugh, “So desperate. Well, I guess I can’t pass up a good dessert.”

You let out a small sigh of relief as you felt his fingertips rub over your wet cunt.

“I’m gonna hold you to that promise, though,” he added, “You better not forget it.”

“I won’t, honey. Promise.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @celestialplatinum @pinklemonadeflav @luvkpopp @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @cinnikoi @unlikelysublimenightmare @k-drizzle @neo-stay @v0relino @pedriswrld

— couldn’t tag

@multi05ho3st4n @nlklstan @fairygirl18 @thxbxx @iguanas-world @ddwaekk @love-me-a-little

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Interrogation - Ino x Reader

cw: 18+, interrogation kink, degradation, scissoring, slight Inoichi x reader in the beginning, pussy slapping, slight bondage, orgasm denial,

a/n: I SWEAR I DON'T HAVE A WEIRD INO KINK this is a total coincidence - ands this was also supposed to be for femslash feb 2024, but then I was gonna post it for kinktober, and now its a femslash fic again sdfghfds. I just love Ino's mean girl persona and combined with one of my favorite kinks it just HAD to be done lol.

“My daughter won’t be nearly as kind to you as I am,” Inoichi said. “You realize that, don’t you?”

You enjoyed his definition of kind; two long, thick fingers buried inside your cunt. Your legs spread open to allow him easier access — not like it was of your volition; the straps made it impossible to bring your legs together, thereby rendering you somewhat decent. 

“Where is the scroll?” Inoichi asked for the nth time. “What did you and your associates do with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about — oh, god,” Your sentence died at the same time those fingers of his curled upward, tapping — one-two-one-two — against your g-spot. You writhed in the chair members of the Interrogation Force had strapped you to, throwing your head back to observe the white light pinholed in from the ceiling.

“I’m just buttering you up for her,” Inoichi said. His fingers inched out, only to plunge right back in as far as they could reach, finger pads skimming against your g-spot’s rigged skin.

“Fuck, I don’t know anything, okay? I — aah …” Inoichi’s fingers had withdrew properly to run slow, languid circles over your clit, the prominent little nub having been neglected for hours. You bit your lip at the attention given, long overdue. “Fuck, yes — I don’t even know — oh — what the scroll even looks like!”

Inoichi appraised you, your contorting face, your teeth baring down on a bottom lip, threatening to draw blood. “Very well.”

You whined with the official withdrawal of his fingers. Inoichi took a step forward, and once you opened your mouth to speak, drowned your mouth in question with his moist digits.

“If you’re lying,” Inoichi said, pressing his wet fingers onto your tongue, letting up only so you could swirl the appendage around the wrinkled, salty skin, “Ino will get the truth out of you.”

He pulled his fingers from your mouth and left you, naked, legs spread, light beaming down on you, no dignity at all. A fact that both infuriated you and made you wetter.

“Fuck you!” You cried as the door shut with a creaking, metallic clamp. You slammed your head back with a frustrated yell. 

You were nowhere close to coming, which was somehow worse, this lukewarm fashion of edging. You ached for touch. For stimulation. Having received none, you laid in wait for your next tormentor. 

The door opening brought you a pathetic sort of relief. 

“Well, well, well,” came a feminine voice, presumably the notorious Ino Yamanaka. “I’ll have to thank dad for leaving me with such a fun doll to play with.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I told him,” You said impatiently. “Which is I don’t know anything. I don’t know where the hell your precious scroll is, and I’m glad I don’t!” You thrashed against your constraints, ceaseless in your protest. “This whole stinking village can burn to the fucking ground, and I’d kick the ashes!”

Ino clutched her chest, feigning offense. “My, what strong words!” she said, positively scandalized. “I suppose I’ll just have to test that conviction of yours.”

Ino sauntered over to you. Your eyes were drawn to the way her long, feminine fingers grazed the desk leagues from your chair. Despite your so-called convictions, you couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit intimidated. She was extremely beautiful. 

And also, according to hearsay, extremely dangerous. 

“Look at you.” Hands on her hips, Ino leaned over your exposed frame. A small smirk quirked the edge of her lips, blue eyes roving over you from the neck down. “You were so ready to put up a fight before, but now you’re shaking like a leaf!” Her smirk grew wider at the pun. “Figures you were all talk —“

You didn’t know what came over you — maybe it was being tied up all day, maybe it was the multitude of ruined orgasms — but you had come to the split-hair end of your patience with all this, and spit in the face Ino had leaned over and offered you.

She gave a startled cry. A second to register what happened, then —

Smack! Your cheek stung. 

“You disrespectful little bitch,” she said. You faced her just in time to see her swipe the saliva off her face. “And to think I was gonna go easy on you —“

“Oh, cut the crap,” You said. “In no world were you ever gonna go easy on me. Let’s just get this over with.”

A beat and Ino’s smirk returned. You felt as though you had passed some test.

“You’ve got at least some brains.” Ino sauntered past you, and your heart hammered with ill-concealed fear of what she would do, heightened by the fact you could no longer see her. You hollered as she gripped your hair, yanking your head back. “I mean, besides that little stunt you pulled.”

You were forced to look up at Ino now. She cooed, eyeing the red patch on your cheek. 

“Ohh, did it hurt?” She crooned. “Don’t like getting hit there? Aww, it’s okay. I know a place where you might like it better.”

She released your head and it bobbled stupidly toward the chair’s arm as she came back around. She gripped your ankle to shove your already aching leg aside and —

Smack!

“Ah! You fucking bitch!” Your voice held hysteria, the sting concentrated on your pussy almost primal. “What —“

Smack!

You gasped, but otherwise stayed quiet.

“She’s learning,” Ino said with false pride. “Very good. Now, tell me what I want to know.”

Your chest rose and fell with heavy breathing. “I don’t know any —“

Smack!

“Fuck …!” You bit your lip against the pain, beginning to thrash against the restrictive snakes of leather again.

“You’ve got such a pretty little pussy here.” Ino ran fingers over your v of pubic hair before grazing them over your folds, threatening to insert them. “I would hate to ruin it. Now, let’s try again. Where’s the fucking scroll?”

“I don’t —“

Smack! 

“Ah! I said I don’t —“

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Ah — okay, okay, okay!” Your last relent came out as a squeal as Ino’s hand hovered threateningly over your abused cunt. “Enough … Okay, I can tell you what I do know —“

“Wait,” Ino said, gaze focused downwards. Her brows drew together as she leaned away from your chair. “It can’t be …”

You blinked, unsure of what to expect from her now. “…What?”

And she laughed. High-pitched, positively mean girl. So much so you turned your face to hide your blush in the crook of your shoulder. 

“I can’t believe it!” she cried. “You’re actually getting wet over this!”

“I’m not!”

“Oh, yeah?” And it was not a threat this time; Ino inserted two fingers into your cunt. “Then why’s this so easy, huh?”

You had no argument, remaining silent as she tauntingly probed you.

“You like pain, is that it?” Ino inferred. “Like when pretty girls smack your pussy around?”

You shrank to the sound of her wicked giggles. At last Ino withdrew in a way that seemed merciful, but you knew better.

“Well, I don’t know how to punish you if you’re such a creep you get off on it.” Ino sighed, closing her eyes as she scratched the back of her head, a gesture that didn’t feel altogether hers but learned from someone else. “S’been a while since this’s happened … What a drag.”

“Then …” You blinked, hopeful. “Then that’s it? You’ll let me go?”

Ino cracked an eye open at you. “Hm. Nice try. But no.” She stepped away, forgoing her drab interrogation coat and letting it pool to the floor behind her. “I’ve got a better idea.”

You wished you were less of a goon, but you’d be lying if you didn’t stare, mouth agape, as Ino stripped in front of you.

“Like whatcha see?” Ino wiggled her hips back and forth. “Most people do.”

Your eyes were glued to her undulating figure — and your heart raced as she approached you, unsure of what she would do next. 

She toppled you, entangling her legs and yours, before pressing her cunt against your own.

You shrieked as she dropped onto you without aplomb, eyes widening and mouth dropping as she swerved her hips, rocking her clit against yours —

“Wha — oh! What the fu —“

“You know what you have to do,” Ino said, her smirk wicked under the blinding interrogation light. She groped your tit, her thumb massaging the pink nub still risen and eager for her touch.

You bit down on your lip; the sensation, compounded by moments of impact torment, was marvelous. Ino’s cunt slipped and slid over yours, commingling slick and juice. Her pubic hair grazed over your clit, fully assault now as her hips rocked you against the leather of your chair.

“You’re really sick, you know that?” Ino lifted her mons to expose more of her clit, kissing it to yours. Her movements were more precise now, less jerky and more languid, sweetening the pleasure. “Getting off on all this. Anyone else would be begging me to stop, but you? I could probably try and kill you right about now and you’d thank me. Go on. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Any vocalization from you at this point would melt into a moan or a “please please more more.” And you did not need her degradation right now — degradation that was now only driving you closer to the edge.

You closed your eyes shut, hoping the lack of visual stimuli would delay the inevitable — but you opened them again when Ino’s weight fell over you. She smiled sweetly in your face, her gyrations ceaseless now and endlessly erotic. 

“Stop.” You thrashed, the movement aiding your predicament. “Stop, stop —!“

“Or what?” Ino’s tone was pointedly oblivious, as was her expression; brows raised innocuously, lips pouty — and so close. “You’ll come?” 

She thrashed harder, all languidity gone. Her breasts pressed against yours, your pebbled nipples brushing against her perfect skin. 

“Do it,” Ino said, and at your hopeless whimper she chuckled. “Let me see how you look when you’re fucked dumb.”

Her clit grazed over yours, applying the most exquisite pressure over yours —

“Ino!”

She withdrew from you. 

You blinked, flustered and on the edge. “Wha ... What?”

Risen inches above you, she smiled, victorious. “Tell me what I wanna know.”

“This is sick!” You were more wild animal than human now, denied orgasm dozens of times. You thrashed, set to spit in Ino’s gorgeous face a second time. “You and that pervy fucking dad of yours —!“

“You wanna come?” Ino spoke over you. “Do you part. Tell me.”

You breathed hard. Tears grew at the corner of your eyes. You looked around, helplessly, nether regions begging for release. You clenched around nothing, clit abandoned.

“… Okay,” You said. “… It’s in the fucking — fucking Mist village, all right? I gave it to a friend and …”

Your stupid snitch mouth couldn’t stop rambling off, giving Ino every minute detail she and her personnel would need to find what you had claimed. 

All the while Ino looked down at you, expression inscrutable. Once you were finished, catching your breath, she was quiet for a few seconds still. 

“Pathetic,” she murmured, and sat down over you again. 

You howled out a moan. You wiggled against her best you could, but you couldn’t possibly hope to match her rhythm. She grit her teeth, eyes closed, but that was your only indication she felt anything at all as she burrowed into you. 

“Oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck.” This was never going to last long and you knew it, but the euphoric rise of your climax was all you cared for, and more than that: the fall from the cliff that had been denied you so many times.  

So when Ino rocked her hips, hard, against you one final time, you felt drunk with release. Your eyes rolled as you arched your back best you could against your restraints. 

“Thank you …” You were babbling now, to no one. “Oh, gods, thank you …”

“Hmph!” Ino removed herself from you. Through lidded eyes you watched her redress, unsure if she had even come at all, if the blossom-pink fluster against her sweet skin was any tell. “Whatever, sicko.”

As she draped her trench coat over herself, she looked your wrecked form over. “Well, this was fun. My people will come to put you behind bars shortly.” She winked. “See ya never.”

And that was where she left you, as she had found you, only worse. Messied and aching everywhere, you sighed and thudded your head against the chair’s base. Pathetic. Absolutely. And screwed. Definitely.

But tell that to the wonderful ache soaring through every inch of your body.

[groovy-rat-man]

Random baseless punch out wii headcanon time!!

I KEEP TRYING TO SAVE THIS TO DRAFTS BUT IT KEEPS POSTING INSTEAD BUT FUCK IT WE BALL (i might add more stuff or change things but this is what I've got so far)

Doc Louis

Hes not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up

Hes got a tshirt that says that and every time he wears it in public mac dies a little inside

Hes also got pictures of him and mac together in his wallet that he likes showing off to people

Im gonna take this time and tell you about this crackship I like. Idk why but doc louis/gabby jay is just very cute to me and i wanted to share that with you

Little Mac

Everyone makes him transmasc, everyone makes him autistic, everyone makes him selectively mute and I just so happen to be part of everyone soooo...

I might however be projecting myself onto him just a little bit but whatev

Him and Birdie are like brothers to me, not biologically but still <3

Pretty awkward around his fans, especially the ones who don't respect his personal space (looking at YOU, nameless women in super macho man's title defense intro😡)

Got called into the counselors office at his school a lot because he was always covered in bruises, every time he just showed them his latest match on his phone like "yeah don't worry everything cool at home I just get my ass kicked as my job"

Tries to be friendly with all his opponents, or at least decent with them

~~~~

Glass Joe

I read the first couple chapters of this fic and now it's just canon to me, he is a single girldad and there is nothing you can do to change that

Well I say "dad" but sometimes I like to make her transfemme just because I can so when I do that she's still a milf instead

Has always had fucked up bones and joints and health problems and stuff, boxing just made it CONSIDERABLY worse lol

Gabby Jay is like his uncle or something

Sleeps like 3 hours a night and hasn't drank water in like 10-20 years, this freak is living off of coffee, bread, wine, cigarettes, and NOTHING else

Tried to be blond, it didn't work on him

The only reason he haven't died in the ring is because god is punishing him for his hubris

His one win was when Nick Bruiser died in the ring due to a completely unrelated brain aneurism

Von Kaiser

Used to crossdress back in his younger years, he may not do it as much anymore but he still has his dresses

Actually enjoys his job as a boxing teacher! He likes instilling knowledge on the next generation

Complete neat freak, trys to suppress it as much as he can but it's always there in the back of his mind

Definitely has SOMETHING wrong with him but thinks that if he doesn't get it diagnosed then it's not really a problem

Probably has like prosthetics or metal implants in his joints or bones or something, idk why else he'd make the noises he does

Disco Kid

I like to think that he does drag in his free time, makes you wonder if him and VK ever talk about it

Can fully SPRINT in high heels, hell he could probably fight in them too if they'd let him

Always has at least a little bit of glitter on him, it's a curse

Boxing is more of a hobby for him than a career, he's just having fun with it

Always makes sure his friends are safe and having fun whenever they go out somewhere

King Hippo

Scares babies and small children on accident just by being around them and feels REALLY bad about it

The first time he met glass joes daughter he made her cry and still hasn't gotten over it

Whenever fans ask him for a signature he either writes it in the most beautiful handwriting you've ever seen or he just draws a lil hippo with a crown, which one you get depends on how he's feeling

Has a storage unit somewhere filled to the brim with all those shitty blenders that had to be recalled

He still tries to pawn them off on people, too, if he ever tries to get you a gift for like your birthday or something you just know it's one of those shitty blenders

Oh and the "king" in king hippo isn't a stage name, he is actual flesh and royalty. His subjects seem to think highly of him and he treats them well. He does a pretty good job running things too but to be fair his kingdom isn't all that big, just one tiny island that isn't on any maps.

He usually doesn't hold his title over people's heads, mostly he's just some guy

Fully CANNOT swim but he can hold his breath for ages and just sort of walks on the ocean floor (gee, almost like his namesake)

Knows what gender is, does not care for it

Likes to sketch and draw :)

~~~~

Piston Hondo

Possibly aromantic? I don't really know and I don't think he knows either.

God why don't I have any headcanons for him?? He's my fucking wife!!!!

Ok I KNOW I said he's my wife but i saw like one person make him and Bear Hugger queer platonic partners and im in love with that idea

I feel like of the two he's the one who was most concerned with putting labels on it and trying to figure out what exactly they were but eventually just decided that even if they're not in a romantic relationship they can still be soulmates and I think thats beautiful

Hes a sweet guy but he can be pretty awkward around people lol

EXCELLENT cook like you have NO IDEA

Bear Hugger

Does NOT know his own strength. He'll go to hug somebody and and break their ribs, he'll go to open a jar and shatter it into pieces. He's trying his best to be gentle but good god.

Also the gay kind of bear (the stage name was on purpose)

Can actually literally for real life talk to animals. No fucking clue how he does it, i guess it's just a Canadian thing

Lost his squirrel after losing in title defense and was DEVASTATED, but DONT WORRY the squirrel was fine

The "i like raw fish" line isn't about sushi, be just sticks his head in a river and comes out with a live salmon in his teeth

Great Tiger

Has at least one if not a plethora of cats (one of which is a British shorthair cause I feel like that's the kind of cat he'd like)

"I feed you, I home you, I give you all the treats and toys you could ask for, and what do you do? You scratch up my furniture and knock over all my nice cups! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Mmmrrp?😺"

"Hmph, you're lucky you're cute..."

Magic is a difficult thing to control so sometimes when he sneezes he teleports, happesnt to the best of us

It took him weeks to fully resolidify after getting poofed my mac in title defense so for a while parts of his body were just vapor

If i ever draw him I'm gonna give him widdle kitty fangs, trust me

Still trying to work on his music career, the dumbass

Him and don like to gossip together like catty bitches

Don Flamenco

Carmen 100% tops him, I will not elaborate (at least not until I finish my fanfic)

#1 bi4bi couple ever

Whenever he drinks he literally does not shut up about her

"Me gusta mi esposa porque es suave y cálida y bonita y amable conmigo🥰🥰"

Sure, alright dude

I know it's HEAVILY implied that Carmen left him after he lost to mac the first time but I choose to think that he just lost all his self worth and was CONVINCED that she was gonna leave him

That... might actually be worse now that i think about it

But whatever, in the long run they get married and have twins and grow old together and it's great<3

She likes him better without his toupee, more room for kisses<3<3

"I'd kill someone for you, PLEASE ask me to kill someone for you..."

Hes tried on her lingerie more times than he's like to admit, it's gotten to the point where she just bought him his own. She wasn't upset about him stealing her clothes, she was upset because pink is NOT his color

Also I'm sorry that literally all of these are about him and Carmen, I didn't mean to do that

He is a complete giga bitch to everyone except her

I like it when people interpret mac as being Hispanic because I feel like he'd try and start a conversation with don and he'd be like "Lo siento, no hablo inglés. (Lying)" and mac would just be like "¡Oh, está bien! Así que, como te decía..." and dons just like GOD FUCKING DAMNIT

~~~~

Aran Ryan

He used to be normal, but then they put him in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. The rats made him crazy.

Does not know Irish and refuses to learn because it reminds him of being in school and he fucking HATED being in school

Probably because of the adhd or whatever is going on with his brain

Will break somebody's nose if they make fun of his accent

I see folks giving him a ton of siblings and I really like that idea but I just gave him one cause I thought it'd be easier lol

I named his sister Sharan cause I thought it'd be funny, she's also fucking crazy but when they're around eachother they're too busy trying to reel the other one in to be crazy themselves so they sort of balance eachother out

Shes about 6-7 years younger than than him and even though he KNOWS she can stand up for herself he's still very protective of her

When he first started boxing professionally he would bring her with him to get her out of the house (even though she didn't like seeing him get hurt)

Used to read her stories to help her go to sleep and would stay with her to protect her from monsters

Has fistfought his dad and would do so again if he wasn't dead

Soda Popinski

Literally just this post

Him and his wife that I made up have been trying for a baby but haven't had any luck so far

Gained his sweet tooth after quitting drinking (ya know cause he used to be called vodka drunkinski, god I'm so fucking clever)

Is actually a gentle giant outside of the ring!

His wife started knitting him sweaters once she saw him go out into the snow nearly naked. He loves and cherishes them and wears them every chance he gets but he still goes outside without pants🫠

Has killed someone on accident

Bald Bull

I like to think that he's a pretty chill guy when he's not being hounded by the paparazzi but god damn they will not leave him alone

He was probably glad when mac became champ for all the reasons macho man hated it

I honestly don't know what else to say about him

Fuck it I'm giving him agoraphobia

Him and popinski are pals😊

Has killed someone on purpose

Super Macho Man

I'm gonna be real, in my first draft of this post i completely forgot he existed and if he was real and he knew that he would be thinking about it for WEEKS

His ass: NOT real

His tits: NOT real

Thinks he's talking Like The Youth when he says shit like dude and bogus all the time

Also he's like 50

Definitely has at least one kid that he pretends not to know about, dodges child support like it's bullets in the matrix

Idk what social media was like in 2009 cause I was 4 years old but I like to think that people bully him online

Tried to own the "release the bogus" thing but it was just suuuuuuper cringe

Sometimes I like to make him ftm, I think it's neat

Sometimes I also like to make him fluent in asl but I got that one from a fanfic

Mr. Sandman

Comfypilled cozymaxer (at least when he's not training and stuff)

I feel like he would not be able to play any of the punch out games if they existed in his universe

I really dont know what to put here either

I like to think that under that intimidating exterior hes a real sweetie but I also said that about popinski and bb so it feels like I'm just being stupid

Give him some chamomile tea. Now.

[emchante]

I return with more fluffy divorced dad Daniel 🥰 the man is an obvious sucker for physical touch in terms of love languages. He’ll purr like a cat when you run your hands through his hair but his new favorite thing is receiving beard scratches. Then he’s literally like a cat, sticking his chin forward, presenting that salt and pepper facial hair, eyes closing in bliss as your nails scratch around the rough patches. Do it while he’s laying on your chest and you’ll successfully lure the tired man to sleep. Sometimes when he doesn’t want to ask for the scratches verbally, he’ll take your hand, press a kiss to your palm, put it against his chin and give you puppy dog eyes until you give in and you’ll be rewarded with the most adorable smile when you comply <3

~🫠

NONNIEEE HELLO!! fluffy divorced dad!daniel thoughts.. oh my, oh my, oh myyyy. i LOVE this so much??

rambles below the cut as per!!

daniel’s love language is physical touch, if it wasn’t obvious enough with how touchy he is, atleast he confirmed it last year.

and oh my god, divorced dad!daniel? oh he’s an absolute sucker for it. especially when you keep in mind he’s been out of a relationship for a while. i haven’t established yet whether he has messed around with others or not— but whether he has or not, it’s for fucking and nothing else. he gets pleasure out of it, obviously. but he doesn’t get the affectionate, softer gestures.

so when you come along, and once you’ve both moved further from just sex? oh he’s almost melting when you touch him. you’re the reason he grows out his hair longer, keeps his curls and the grey (me and di established this last night 👀 might need to post a little lore tidbit if anyone is interested), so when he’s grown it out and you run your fingers through it? he’s almost knocked out instantly. bonus points if you do it post-sex and he’s on your chest, that man is literally asleep in under 60 seconds.

but oh, the beard scratches? loves them. adores them, even. feeling your soft fingers run along his newly-grown beard before using your nails to scratch along both his skin and facial hair— absolute heaven. the noises he lets out too, are something else. like you said, he truly is like a cat purring, his usually deep voice a few octaves lower now he’s relaxed. he’s a little more sensitive at his neck/under his chin, so when you scratch along there, a few moans might even escape him.

when he doesn’t want to ask verbally, it’s usually because he’s embarrassed. he’s embarrassed of being a grown man, asking the decently younger person he’s seeing if he can have some scratches. when he says that in his mind, he sounds pathetic (note: in the future? this changes. you change his way of thinking about a lot of things) so he simply just takes your smaller hand in his, and moves it to his face.

if you’re watching tv, your eyes will move to see his expression which is quite commonly his big doe eyes, staring right up at you. sometimes he’ll even do a little head tilt into your hand, rubbing his beard against it as a plead.

when you finally oblige and your fingers gently scratching along his scruffy beard, you watch as the warm smile makes its way onto his face, eyes closing in content. you watch as the crows feet appear at the side of his eyes, and it tells you how much he’s really enjoying it. it baffles you how he can go from fucking you relentlessly a few hours before, to being one of the softest men you’ve came across.

🫠 NONNIE I LOVED THIS IDEA?? he’s our filthy little fucker but god can he be a soft guy other times. always love and appreciate your thoughts and ideas for this au, and can’t wait to hear from you again!! <3

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Tumblr WILL NOT let me post the fic and this ask at the same time and I've tried legit five times. So THANK YOU anon for the request and I'm sorry for the weirdness in uploading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this!

My Ghost.

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: You don't know what happened that night. Things were fine, life was good, then your partner is on the news for all sorts of shit you never would've thought him capable of the day prior. He was dead, he was evil, and you were trying to move on. But what's the proper etiquette when the dead show up on your door unannounced?

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/comfort, fake death, mentions of drinking, drug use/dealing, grieving, arguing, cursing, flashbacks, brief suggestive scenes, suicidal thoughts.

Other Works in This Series: 'Repentance' (Prequel to 'My Ghost') • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: The way I've been trying to upload this for two hours. Oh my fucking God. Anyways, everyone say thank you to anon for getting me to write something that doesn't make God cry.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

I'm not hard to please, but I'm not desperate despite what the rumors may say.

People enjoy gossip. People who don't know fuck all about you. And my standards are fine. Were fine. And I don't mean standards such as 'buys me flowers everyday' or 'doesn't deal coke.' I mean standards such as 'is a decent fucking person.'

"That's what I thought you were up until all of this fucking... disappearing for months!" I scream, anger fueling me. I don't let the other emotions win out, don't let them have a say. Because if I do, I'll be too conflicted and overwhelmed and then I'm gonna cry, and that's not fair.

People had warned me he was trouble. Terms such as 'wannabe cowboy,' 'rebel without a cause' were tossed around in warning. But to me, he was just Billy.

Then he was dead.

Now, he was here. He showed up at my door nine months after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon.

Then he was on the news. And a gas station blew up. Gangs, stolen vehicles. He was probably dead. Things would be easier if he was dead.

Fine. Maybe I initially ignored warning signs. Maybe I was distracted by his handsome side profile, too busy admiring his nose to notice the occasions it was dusted with the trace of a fine powder. Maybe his hands were too beautiful for me to realize they were slipping money to men in dark jackets when we went out to the rougher parts of town. But he was mine and I was his, and overall he was a good person.

He was alive. He was alive and I was mad because if he was dead then at least it would be valid that for nine months I have had to deal with the accusatory stares of our neighbors assuming I knew, the pity from my loved ones, and the betrayel that kept me awake at night. It would mean he hadn't left me to deal with his repercussions, that maybe there was a valid excuse. An undiagnosed brain tumor that finally gave way to insanity, a gun to his head. Something that was not the worst case scenario of just... being an awful person. I could let his things rest around the house undisturbed, hiding from the world and waiting to find the courage to join him one day and living in denial in the meantime. What the fuck was all of this?

"I couldn't tell you," he keeps saying. "It was better if you knew nothing until I was sure I could come get you."

"Why didn't you just take me with you from the start?" I ask. I've been pacing the floor for the past twenty minutes ever since he showed up. It was better than throwing every breakable object in the cheap, worn down shack of a house at him, which was my second instinct. My first was to pull him into my arms, draw the curtains shut and hide him away so that he'll never leave again. Like an idiot.

He laughs bitterly. "You would not be asking that if you knew what the fuck I went through," he says. His words sound like they should be angry, but there's this lightness to them like he can't let himself think too much about it. It just makes me angrier.

"Don't fucking laugh!" I snap. "Do you think any of this is funny?"

"I think you're funny when you're mad," he deflects, smiling. "You got this whole routine. Pacing, nose twitching. I like the Shirley Temple stomps, like you're a kid."

I groan loudly, the noise almost sounding like a low scream in my throat.

"You owed money to fucking- who?" I yell.

"The details don't matter-"

"When I have been grieving your death for nine months, they fucking matter!" I snap. His brows furrow, his hands mid air as if to say 'the fuck did I do?'

"You know me, okay? I don't get caught," he says as though it were obvious.

"I know fucking nothing!" I practically scream.

When we met he was just a guy at a bar, handsome, wearing that same ridiculous jacket that I couldn't help but stroke the white fluff on, tequila running through my veins.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smirking.

"Just wanted to see what it felt like," I said.

"Wanna feel something else?" He asked, his chin resting on his head.

"Oh, fucking gross. Fuck o-"

"I was talking about this," he said, whipping out his keys to show off an odd, weirdly shaped keychain with short, stiff fuzz. "Don't call me a pervert just cause you're one."

He was smiling. It was an easy smile. Careless, happy with life. I loved that smile. It meant things were always alright as long as he was smiling.

He was smiling on the photo they used for the manhunt.

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"They're a keepsake," he'd insist. "A living memory." He wore them everyday.

He's wearing sneakers, today.

At the end of the night, I stumbled out of the bar with a note in my coat pocket. It took two weeks for me to wear that coat again, and when I found the slip I'd almost thrown it away, assuming it was something dumb. But when I saw the worst handwriting in the world displaying a number belonging to someone named 'Keychain Guy,' I almost couldn't wait to call.

"Bullshit," Billy snaps. "You know me better than anyone."

"Don't say that," I say, putting a hand out protectively to keep him away. "That's exactly why everyone thinks I was just fine with that whole- fucked up thing!"

A gas station burned. A stolen vehicle. People were dead. People were dead.

Billy was presumed dead.

There was no funeral. He had no family, and none of mine wanted to put money into something that would be protested by the whole town anyways. No body to bury, nothing to do but gather up his things and smoke what remained in his stash until people came to nurse me back to life. By that point there wasn't even relief in drugs. The taste simply reminded me of better times cooking in the kitchen as we blew the smoke into each others faces, or worse. Better. Whatever.

I never questioned when Billy went out of town. I knew his work had details I didn't want nor need to know. Money was tight. But Billy always came home with little things whenever he went on unexpected trips. Knick knacks, snacks, some item I'd seen at the store and picked up to make a comment about. Had he been particularly forthcoming about his dealing when we started dating? No. He said he worked for a local small business, which technically isn't untrue. But about six months in, he was the one who approached me and sat me down at the small, rickty round table to tell me the truth. And that's what mattered to me. The economy is shit and it's not like it was meth, so who am I to judge?

About a year into it, I was begging for him to do something else.

"I don't like you disappearing," I told him. "I'm scared one day you're gonna piss someone off and that'll be the end. Then what am I gonna do?"

"Then you're gonna make sure they don't fuck up my face during the embalming process for the funeral," Billy said around his hand rolled cigarette. I whip the small dish towel at him, making him laugh and protect his small ashtray that I made him for Christmas the year prior. It was shitty, uneven, and I'm 99% sure a fire hazard. But he wouldn't use any other ones unless I was the one who bought them for him, and even then he favored this one. 'When this place goes up in flames,' I thought, 'I'll regret that gift.'

I'd kept it by the kitchen window every day since he'd died. "Died." It was his spot.

He moves to sit there now, looking in his pockets for the small box of prerolled cigarettes.

"People know you weren't involved," he says dismissively.

"Your friends know. What about the old ladies at church? The checkout clerks at the store? How about the fucking mailman?" I shout, convinced I'm still talking to the dead. "You think they know the ins and outs of the local psychos support group?" I ask, gesturing and stepping closer.

I was the local outcast now. Not to be trusted, not worth kindness. Shame was my title, and when Billy appeared on my doorstep at an hour where only I was awake I was sure I'd caught the same awful disease that must have been what sent him spiraling that winter day. It wasn't until he pushed the door open fully, taking me into his arms and pressing a warm kiss to my lips that I knew he was real. It was a feeling I was in the early stages of forgetting, blurry and cold. But here he was, the stubble on his chin a bit longer and his ears missing the small hoops that had glittered in the sunlight when he walked out the door.

Then I'd pushed him away. And the fight began.

"I'm not a fucking psycho," he argues. His hands pat around his outfit, searching. "You got a lighter?"

"Fuck off." I kept his favorite in my left pocket. I had to be careful what things of his I wore or kept on my person. People close to me knew I would have never condoned his actions, but even they had glared at me in the early wake of Billy's death when I dared to wear one of his shirts out of the house, or more commonly one of his thick leather jackets. But a lighter can be hidden, and unless you had borrowed it you wouldn't know it had specifically been his. So I kept it with me all the time, just feeling it next to my skin with the only barrier being the fabric of my pocket. Without a thought, I cover the small item as though he can see right through me. Picking up on the hint, he's rises from the table and begins walking over to me.

"Don't be a dick, just let me borrow it," he says, holding out his hand.

"Fuck off," I snap.

"You've said that. I just need it for two seconds," he says as his hands begin to gently grab at me, one on my shoulder and the other dipping into my pocket.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yell, slapping at him.

"Just let me have-"

He cuts himself off as he pulls out the lighter from my pocket, his thumb grazing over the printed picture. The Statue of David. He'd bought because it made us laugh. One side was the regular statue, the other a close up of its small genitals with cursive writing underneath spelling the art piece's name.

"Oh," Billy says quietly.

We stand for a moment, silent. He doesn't seem sure what to do. My lungs burn with unheaved sobs. I fucking hate this.

"You were gonna come back," I finally say quietly. I hate how my voice sounds when I'm upset. I hate that I'm wearing his dogtag, an item he'd bought at a World War II museum in middle school that he gave me for our first Christmas because we were both too broke to actually buy each other anything, hence the poorly made ashtray. I hate that when I sleep at night it's in his clothes that I rarely wash because the idea of losing his smell makes me want to scream. I hate that his scent is different from the bottle of cologne he kept next to my makeup, one time spilling all over the entire bathroom counter because we'd gotten too wrapped up in each other, dragging our nails down each others backs and watching ourselves in the mirror until one wrong move of my hand revealed he'd been a bit too careless about screwing the lid back on earlier in the day. I'd always warned him about that.

I'd been in the bathroom putting on my permanently scented blush when I got the text.

"I was going to," he said softly. "Then I couldn't."

"So what?" I say, not daring to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare at where the cheap, old wood paneling of the wall meets the shaggy, stained carpet that you have to wear shoes on due to the staples that have begun sticking out of it. "You just propose to someone and then pretend to die?"

Valentines Day was an awfully cheesy day to do it. So it's a good thing it was a technicality.

The day had been lovely. Billy had saved up a little to take me to a local hibachi place, telling me to wear my best outfit and jewelry. It was slightly overkill, but it's the small things in life, isn't it?

We'd come home with a bottle of wine, a low budget movie to ignore and hands searching desperately for each other.

"I love you," he'd said between pants. "You're mine."

"Buy a ring," I'd dared. Our minds were buzzed, the bottle half empty and our clothes thrown away without care. Took me weeks to find his both of his socks.

I hadn't meant for him to take it seriously. But I guess he decided it was time.

Two days later I thought it was odd when he walked into the house with my favorite lunch. It wasn't expensive really, we just usually got it for special occasions or days that had been mentally harder for me. And things were normal that day. I was getting ready for my shift, running around like I always do trying to make sure I've got everything.

"Your coffee's in the cup, will you just sit down?" He laughed, watching me. I quickly collected the take out box, sipping my coffee and wincing over its temperature.

"Fuck, that burns," I cursed. He wrapped his arms around me, trying to get me to sit at the table. "Baby, I can't," I protested softly, but I was laughing. He was peppering me in kisses, giving me those big puppy dog eyes everyone knew were my weakness. He wanted for nothing so long as he looked at me just like that.

"Just this once," he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help the blush and giggle that rose from me, but I also couldn't be late.

"I'll make up for it," I promised, slipping away and running into the bedroom to get my shoes. When I ran back in, pulling them on and coming to kiss him goodbye, I nearly fell over when I saw him on one knee, smiling and looking at me like 'I told you so.'

I don't like how itchy the ring feels on my middle finger as I twirl it in thought.

"You don't know what happened," he pleaded, his hands still on me. "If you would just listen to me-"

"The news gave a pretty good description, William. I don't think there's missing pieces in my head, unlike you," I say coldly, detaching from myself so to not have to deal with my emotions. This makes him stiffen, pulling away and resuming his place at the kitchen table, lighting his cigarette and placing the ashtray in front of him like nothing has changed when everything has.

It feels like I'm out of time. Like I've been shoved into a picture of what my life looked like before. Except the house was never this clean, clothes always scattered about. Not just in a fit of passion, we just had bad habits when it came to picking up. Billy would always say the chairs are more decorations then they are seats, anyways. "Why would you use those when you have such a nice seat here?" He'd ask, wiggling his hips and placing his hands behind his head, making me laugh.

Billy never looked so well put together in the house, usually in a wife beater and his hair framing his face. He'd always joked he looked like a dirty hippie around me, and I'd always show him how much I liked that. Not that he looked fantastic now. When we went out he was known for putting in effort. He always had more hair products than me, which I found funny. Though he refused makeup. Once I'd managed to talk him into eyeliner. 'Guyliner' I'd teased. He liked it, but said it should stay between us with a wink before asking where to get dinner. Now he sits before me in clothes obviously stolen to help him look unremarkable, his hair shaggy and uncut, so different from the man I loved.

"Who are you?" I asked him. That man didn't shrink away from accountability.

He sighed, smoke swirling around him as he wipes his face with his hand.

"I don't know. Can't tell if I'm better or worse, to be honest," he admits softly. His eyes look haunted, heavy bags underneath. It's the way his shoulders sag as though his will to go on is slowly draining from him in this very moment that makes me want to break now. Like whatever reason he had for still going was fruitless.

I didn't like the way we mirrored each other like this.

I slowly scuff my feet towards him, tapping my fingers against the back of the wooden chair before pulling it out to sit across from him. It's a start.

"So if you tell me," I say slowly. "Am I going to wish you were dead?"

He doesn't look at me. "I don't know."

Great.

The night is long. Morning comes without an invitation, the blue sky beginning to glow through the shitty blinders I always told Billy we should replace one day. I understand less than when we started, we've both cried more than once, and between our fingers is cigarette stubs and the feeling of each others skin, hands laced together as though another click of an old remote to an outdated TV with batteries you had to rub against your shirt to make work would reveal the smouldering remains of a gas station, displaying the estimated body count and deeming one of us as a devil of the worst kind, ripping us apart.

"Jesus," I say when it's over.

"Yeah," he says. "So, needless to say, my anxiety is shit now."

It isn't funny. It's a tragic statement. But when we both glance into the others eyes, it's his small little smirk that makes me laugh like I haven't since my mother sent me the local news report with his picture covering the front page. The same one that shows everything is still okay.

"I'm sorry," I say. Then the laughing turns into sobbing, and then I can't breathe. And I really am sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I'm sorry he went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money he shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. I'm sorry he couldn't come back for me. And I'm sorry for hating him when he showed up unannounced at my door.

"Hey," he says gently, standing and crossing to me, removing his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders to comfort me. It's unfamiliar, evidence of a life he wouldn't have led if he had just stayed by me and it upsets me, but his lips against my wet cheeks ground me, familiar and soothing me, coaxing me into wrapping my arms around him, clawing my trembling fingers through his hair. Still soft. Still combed.

"You can't stay here," I choke out.

"I know," he says quietly. There's nothing for a long time, our bodies shaking as we cling to each other. In our arms are the unspoken months of grief. Of his longing for our home, of my insanity. Death looms over the furniture, light hidden away lest it take away my sacred treasures I'd used to keep his spirit close to me.

"I can't lose you again," I say.

"I know," he says, smelling my hair and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. "But I can't promise stability if you follow me."

My brows furrow, my mind racing in confusion, my hopes rising. Follow?

"I know a guy," he says quickly, his arms tighter as if scared I'll turn away. "Says he can get me a new identity and a one way ticket to somewhere. I don't know where yet, but it's worth a try."

My fingers trace his back, swirling invisible patterns over his shirt. He'd always liked that after a rough day. I can feel the tension begin to slowly fall away from him at the contact, his breathing growing deeper and more steady. "And you want me to come?"

"Need," he corrects. "I don't regret leaving you, but I can't stay away. Even if it's more kind to let you mourn and find a better life."

A new life. A new identity. New name, new everything.

Maybe I am insane. Maybe this exactly the kind of mental break Billy had that day. Maybe I was doomed to follow his spirit no matter what. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe God had granted me a mercy I'll never be able to repay, no matter how many night I spend in worship at a church or between this man's legs. Maybe I'd spend every day looking over my shoulder, paranoid and eventually turning cruel to strangers so to keep this one person everyone told me to let go of from the very beginning.

But the same Billy.

"Can he do a marriage license?" I ask after a long silence. I can hear him laugh, pulling away to look at me.

"That eager?" He asks softly, his eyes gentle, thumb stroking my cheek. I lean into his touch, softly placing a kiss on his palm.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

"Well," I say, "I already have the ring."

Masterlist

As cute as this was, please have better standards than the Reader I wrote in this fic. No man is worth that. I am DEADASS. Anyways, love y'all <3

[mrsshabana]

Ok, but hear me out... Gyutaro finding out that his roommate is a camgirl.

I can't stop thinking about your post of the glory hole, now it lives rent free in my brain. 10/10 five stars and a cat.

𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro finds out that his roommate, you, is a camgirl

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, modern au, sex work, masturbation, sex toys

꒦꒷‧₊ Note This is such a devious idea... I love it! 😈🩷

Gyutaro has been your roommate for about 6 months now, and he's proven to be a decent roommate. You're good friends with his sister, so he really only did it to make her happy. And because he may be a bit of a pervert and couldn't deny the fantasies that came to mind when thinking about living with a cute girl...

However, he's always just admired you silently and never spoken to you much. Keeping to himself in his room. It doesn't take long for him to develop a crush on you though, but he's never going to tell you. You're far too pretty for him, way out of his league. He'd never recover from the inevitable embarrassment of being rejected by you.

He was browsing Onlyfans when he found your page. As soon as he saw you he thought, "Oh fuck, that girl is just my type..." He clicks on your page to get a better look at you and that's when he realizes that this hot chick he just found on Onlyfans is actually his roommate.

Immediately you get a notification that Toxicboy66 has subscribed to you.

You send him a sexy photo of you winking and wearing a push-up bra along with a message thanking him for his support. It's a generic message you send to everyone who subscribes to you, but Gyutaro thinks you did it just for him.

Yeah, he immediately locks his door and pulls his pants down, biting his lip as he strokes his cock to the thought of you. His eyes never leave the photo, staring at your gorgeous face and imagining cumming on your tits.

It's not long before his cock is twitching and he's emptying his load all over his hand and abdomen.

At first, he feels guilty for masturbating to a photo of you. You've always been really sweet to him and something about jerking off to you behind your back makes him feel bad.

But when he gets the notification that you started a stream, he can't resist temptation. And that's how he got addicted to watching you play with your pussy every Wednesday and Friday.

You start the stream by welcoming everyone who joins, wearing cute lingerie with thigh-high stockings. Smiling sweetly and talking to your fans while you wait for more people to join.

Toxicboy66: Hey Doll ;) you look really beautiful today

"Aw, thank you Toxicboy66! And thanks for joining my stream today!" You say cheerfully when you see his greeting.

During that first stream, he can't stop himself from jerking his dick till it's raw. He cums 6 times during the 2 hour period that you're streaming.

After that day, he became addicted to you. Religiously watching your streams every week, always on time too. His favorite thing is when you use the vibrator and let him see how your pussy aches to have something inside of it. Clenching around nothing, practically begging him to put his cock inside. Those are the streams when he cums the hardest.

But sometimes your streams really aggravate him. Not because of you, but because of the other men that drool over you. Gyutaro wishes he could just have you for himself. That he could be your only fan.

But for now, all he can do is try to donate more than everyone else so you notice him. And you definitely do.

Every time he joins your stream you make sure to greet him. Sometimes you even ask him what he'd like to see you do today. God does he love it when you let him pick which toy you use or which position you get into.

Gyutaro even buys his very first sex toy because of you - a small pocket pussy that he can easily hide under his bed.

He'll get on his knees, positioning himself on the floor in front of his bed. And he'll put his laptop on his bed with your stream playing. Then he'll fuck his pocket pussy while watching you use a dildo. He'll even thrust into the toy at a pace matching you, pretending that it's him fucking your tight hole. Hearing your cute little moans as he pleasures his favorite girl. It’s his ultimate fantasy.

And even after he cums inside of the silicone pussy, he always keeps going. His previous release making the toy warm and wet on the inside, just how he imagines you'd feel. He fucks it relentlessly, emptying load after load in the abused pussy until it's completely filled and overflowing with his sticky semen.

You know that Toxicboy66 is hardcore simping for you, but you actually don't mind. His comments are never creepy or make you uncomfortable like some of the other fans. You've never had a fan as dedicated as him before.

But you never suspect that it's Gyutaro. He makes sure that you never find out. Even though his love for you is spiraling out of control, he knows that he'd never have a chance with you in real life. So he stays in the shadows, hiding his admiration for you in big donations and small gestures like making you breakfast or cleaning the apartment.

Toxicboy66 is your biggest fan, and you have no idea that he's actually your roommate.

[averys-nightmare-zone]

since landing is closing down soon, i decided to take a quick break from SUPERSTRUCTURE (although i will be back don't you worry two fans) and made some fashion moodboards for the 14 fears from the magnus archives to accompany this post there will be some notes and insight on each collage under the cut.

the buried: the buried was really underutilized in the podcast imo. some of my favorite episodes revolved around the buried like lost john's cave and we all ignore the pit. i really hope this did it justice since jonny sims did not.

the corruption: oh my god this one was so hard to make. my google search history is full of terms like "bug infested dress", "moldy clothing" and "yucky fashion" the corruption girlies really seemed to like my last post so i felt obligated to get it right. i think i did okay.

the dark: making a black on black collage look decent is really hard 😭 I was originally going to go victorian for this one but ended up doing nu goth instead since I thought victorian fit a lot better with the end.

the desolation: this is one of my favorites. there's somthing so satisfying about combining ashy greys and black with orange it just tickles my brain. other than that, i don't really have any notes

the end: as mentioned earlier, i went with victorian mourning wear for the end. i mean queen victoria herself was in mourning and only wore black for forty years. that era is so synonymous with death it only felt fair to work its customs and fashion into my end board.

the eye: eye avatars are legally required to wear academic fashion. it just comes with the job description. i don't make the rules. have fun being jonathan sims

the flesh: this one really took me down a rabbit hole. first:, i could only find those anti-vegan shirts that your unemployed uncle wears to the family barbecue and then i came across this fashion designer and spent like an hour on her shop trying to figure out how she got her clothes to look like that. after that it took me another two hours to find all of the accessories. pinterest has been both my best friend and worst enemy over the course of this project.

the hunt: i am so sorry the supernatural gas leakage returned to my home when i made this and I age regressed into being 15 again. when i was making this i pictured it more as the trevor and julia flavor of the hunt instead of say, daisy. god breast america.

the lonely: this one was pretty easy to make once i got a handle on the color scheme. the aesthetic of the lonely has always striken me as a romanticization of the melancholy. think wanderer above the sea of fog. So i gave this one all the things i would romantasize about my life at my loneliest, which is why there's a teacup and a heart locket. the book was also a part of that, but it also doubles as a recreation of a leitner by theponderingalpaca on reddit.

the slaughter: yeah yeah i know the slaughter is supposed to be about war as well as murder, but forgive me for not making a fashion collage about military uniforms. that's really boring. i had just watched woodstock '99 before i made this though and decided to go more for that angry punk/metalhead fashion that korn was wearing in that concert. them and limp biskit are the closest we'll ever get to irl grifters bone.

the spiral: i made this moodboard twice. i know its crazy that the fear meant to represent insanity is hard to pin down, but i think i did it better the second time around. the first one read too much as regular kidcore/decora for my taste.

the stranger: i had to do this one last. i could not for the life of me figure out how to make a circus/uncanny fashion board without just doing clown fashion. i'm still not entirely sure how i feel about how it turned out, but at least the masks are cool.

the vast: vast avatars rise up!! this is a mike crew fan blog and i only wanted to base the fashion around him. he's in the top three list of guys i'm autistic about with elliott stardew valley and daniel powell from archive 81.

the web: not much to say here except if you are a web avatar you have to wear a cunty dress. it is simply non negotiable

thank you to @artmadval for giving me the idea to do this with your amazing fashion archives art, along with everyone else who went through all my yapping to get here. love yall!

[tortoisebore]

let’s pretend i’m not posting this a week late 💕💗❤️💖

happy (belated) valentine’s day—here’s a very cheesy and poorly written bonus scene to tack on to hey sharpshooter featuring inappropriate use of chocolate syrup and a cameo from everyone’s least favorite business major !!!

—

In all honesty, Sirius wouldn’t have known Valentine’s Day was even happening if James hadn’t said something.

“—and I think me and Lil are just gonna do dinner here after. She’s not super into Valentine’s Day—”

“Valentine’s Day?” Sirius had muttered absently, entirely more focused on adjusting the crop and lighting on the latest of a series of semi-dirty photos he’d been sending off to Remus throughout the day. Remus’ service had been too spotty to text back much since earlier that morning, but Sirius had gotten several unintelligible key smashes and a very frustrated phone call around noon, which he was counting as a win. Really, he was just biding time here in the living room with James and Pete until Remus made it to whatever city the team was setting up shop in for the night and they could FaceTime uninterrupted on some nice, stable hotel WiFi.

“Mhm,” James continued. “I really should have learned my lesson by now—every year I try to plan something and she shoots me down, says it’s a fake holiday created by corporations and we shouldn’t participate. It’s probably for the best, since it’s on a Monday and all this time, plus I have practice at—”

“It’s what?” Sirius exclaimed, shooting up from his spot lounging on the couch and dropping his phone in the process. “Monday?”

“Well, yeah,” James shrugged through a mouthful of popcorn, juggling one of Pete’s borrowed game controllers in his free hand. “The fourteenth. Like it always is.”

Sirius confirmed the date on his lock screen as February 12th and spent the next hour losing his entire shit about it. Remus was away for a game until tomorrow night (either Illinois or Iowa, Sirius couldn’t remember) and they hadn’t even spoken about dates or gifts or plans for Monday, and oh no, oh god, four months in and Sirius was already the worst boyfriend ever, confirmed.

Through a series of vague, sneaky texts and some Googling the next day, Sirius managed to hatch a little plan just cute enough to make up for the fact that every decent restaurant in the city was booked up through Thursday and there simply wasn’t time to write Whitman-level poetry professing his undying love. This was going to have to be a wine him and dine him on a budget sort of situation, but Sirius was nothing if not an unabashed flirt and quick on his feet, so he had confidence that despite his lack of prep time Remus would be feeling quite doted upon by the end of the night.

The plans were so last minute and low-key that Sirius hadn’t been expecting anything in return himself. It was just a regular, simple night in, really—a walk to pick up a little surprise dessert and whatever cheap wine they could get their hands on, cooking dinner at Remus’ place, and what he hoped would be a repeat of the deliciously intense tipsy sex they’d had last weekend. It wasn’t really Valentine’s Day-esque at all, nothing out of the ordinary from any of their other typical date nights in, so when Sirius answered the door on Monday afternoon and found Remus wielding a bouquet of flowers, what looked to be a homemade card, and a precious, shy little smile, he’d nearly combusted on the fucking spot.

“Where did you even find these?” he cried from his spot thrown in a heap on the floor of the entry hall, having collapsed the moment Remus shuffled inside to hand over the flowers and press a sweet, smiley kiss to his cheek. “I looked everywhere for flowers, Remus—everywhere. There are none left in the whole city!”

“I got them in the airport before we flew out yesterday,” Remus admitted sheepishly from the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame and watching on amusedly as Sirius brought the little bouquet to his face to get a good whiff. “There was a little stand right outside security.”

Sirius wailed. “You went all the way to Illinois to buy me flowers?”

“Iowa,” Remus corrected, then thought better of it and shrugged. “But yeah, I guess I did. It’s not like I played in the game—the flowers were the real accomplishment.”

“I love you,” Sirius implored desperately from the floor. He lowered the plastic-wrapped bouquet gently and met Remus’s eyes with a forlorn sigh. “You sweet, perfect, adorable man. I love you so much.”

Remus laughed softly, but Sirius caught a tinge of pink on his cheeks and dusting over the bridge of his nose and felt his stomach erupt in butterflies. “How long are you planning on hanging out down there?” he diverted.

“Until you stop being so cute my legs don’t work.”

“Well—might be here for a while then, won’t we?”

They eventually did make it out of the apartment, only after Sirius had trimmed the flowers and got them settled in a jar on his bedroom windowsill. The cold was biting and sharp outside as they began the trek to Sirius’ little surprise, hand in hand, huddled close for warmth.

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” Sirius urged for the third time since they’d left the apartment, nudging at Remus’ arm with his elbow pointedly.

“Okay, but what sort of surprise?” he asked. “Are we getting food, or coffee, or going sightseeing—you’ve got to give me something, Sirius.”

“No can do,” Sirius maintained. He swung their joined hands back and forth idly as they walked. “But I can promise that you’re going to like it.”

Remus rolled his eyes dramatically but smiled, squeezed Sirius’ hand and kissed his knuckles goodnaturedly. “Whatever you say.”

Sirius wasn’t fucking around, he really was going to love this last minute little surprise—through all his frantic research on Saturday night, he’d discovered a tiny French chocolate shop attached to a cafe near the river off campus that happened to be running a half-off special on assorted truffle boxes for the week. Sirius was very much planning on buying at least three boxes—one to share tonight, one for Remus to keep, and one for himself to hide at his own apartment.

The shop was busy when they arrived, so Sirius offered to grab a spot at the end of the line by the door while Remus assessed the territory up front. He watched on amusedly as his precious, darling boyfriend wormed his way through the crowded tables to the glass display cases at the counter, resting his chin in his hand and taking in the selection of truffles and fudge and miniature pastries. Sirius’ heart swelled and tugged with affection, and he bit at the inside of his lip to quell a smile.

“Oh—Sirius?”

His stomach dropped. He turned around slowly, pleading with the universe—please please please don’t be true—and tried to school his face into something less of a grimace.

“Hey, Ben,” he managed around a forced little smile.

“Hi,” Ben grinned back, all gleaming, perfect teeth and dimples, and Sirius fought very hard against the urge to roll his eyes. “Long time no see!”

“Mhm,” Sirius agreed. He turned and glanced back at the display case across the room, where Remus was now hunched over observing the bottom self intently. “Grabbing something for Valentine’s?” he asked absently.

Ben cringed a little and hesitated. “Yeah, actually,” he said apologetically, much to Sirius’ confusion. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeated. “For what?”

“I’m—well, I’m sort of here with someone,” Ben said reluctantly, nodding over his shoulder to a table in the corner and who Sirius assumed was his date—a short, dark-haired boy with clear-framed glasses.

“Oh,” Sirius said, still a bit confused about the blatant remorse on Ben’s face. “Um—okay?”

“I’m really sorry,” Ben continued, taking a step forward into his space. “We just met a couple of weeks ago and I thought—well, I know you and I haven’t been able to connect again this semester, so I figured there was no harm branching out a bit. I had no idea you’d be here, Sirius, really—I’m sorry—”

Sirius frowned. Did Ben—oh god—did he really expect Sirius to be hurt seeing him with someone else? Did he think he’d just been waiting around, twiddling his thumbs until they ran into each other again?

“Oh, no—” Sirius cut in. “No, no—I’m not—”

“I don’t want you to think this means we can’t still talk, you know?” Ben urged. “I’m still sort of seeing people here and there—just a few guys from my course, that’s all. A lot of them have been interested for a while and keep asking to go out but I just can’t find the time, you know—things are so busy lately. But anyways, we can still grab a drink sometime on a night I’m free or I can move some things around and meet you after your trainings—”

And suddenly it was all very, very funny, but Sirius forced himself to keep a straight face.

“No, Ben—” he interrupted, biting back a laugh. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Ben reached out to touch his arm, squeezing apologetically with a silly little grimace that may have been an attempt at sincerity. “I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Sirius—I’m so sorry you had to see this—”

Sirius swayed out of his grip. “Ben, I have a boyfriend,” he urged, raising his brows pointedly when Ben’s hand stilled and then recoiled. “So, like I said—it’s fine. Really.”

“Oh,” Ben blanched, cleared his throat and straightened up a bit. “You do?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, letting himself laugh a little. “I do. So it’s okay, really, it’s all fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“How—” Ben shook his head a little, did a hesitant little quarter-spin in place and clicked his tongue. “Um, how long have you—uh, had…that?”

“Four months or so, now,” Sirius shrugged.

“Oh. Oh, and, uh—who—” Ben started, then glanced over Sirius’ shoulder and froze, and oh, Sirius loved, loved, loved Remus’ timing more than anything on earth at that very moment.

He appeared out of nowhere, suddenly plastered to his side in a flurry of excitement. “Baby, they have chocolate covered strawberries—”

Sirius felt him freeze more than he saw it in his peripheral. Remus was still for a split second, taking in Sirius’ predicament quickly, and then his hand was slipping around Sirius’ back to fist in his jacket as he cocked his head to the side and smiled.

“Oh, hi Ben,” he said cheerfully, and oh, Sirius loved him. It was impossible not to bite back a laugh at the way he grinned all friendly and sweet (and so, so obviously fake now that Sirius had spent all this time observing his smiles so closely), the way he leaned into Sirius’ side and tapped his fingers in a quick, excited rhythm secretly behind his back.

“Hi,” Ben repeated, a pained smile pulling at his mouth as he squinted and gestured between them. “So you’re—”

“Yep,” Sirius confirmed happily, swaying a bit in an attempt to secretly jostle Remus’ shoulder with a warning that he was about two seconds and a couple of words from crying with laughter. Don’t be funny, he pleaded. Please please please don’t be funny, I beg. “We are.”

“Ah,” Ben said flatly, nodding stiffly. “So—four months, you said?”

“Mhm,” Sirius nodded, turning to shoot Remus a smile and nudging his arm. “Give or take a week or so.”

“A week and six days, actually,” Remus added with a one-shouldered shrug. “But who’s counting?”

“You are, apparently,” Sirius teased, and he very much wanted to kiss the little crease in his cheek as he smiled, but figured that might be a bit cruel.

Ben cleared his throat. “Well,” he said through a forced smile. “Uh—we were actually about to leave and go somewhere else, I don’t really love the flavor combos here today, and I know a better place not too far from here—” He did another one of those little half-turns, patting his pockets awkwardly and pulling out his phone. “Ah, yeah I’ve got to take this,” he said apologetically, gesturing to his very much silent phone. “One of the guys from my course I was telling you about—probably confirming plans tonight.”

Sirius nodded and bit back a laugh, watching wide-eyed as Ben shuffled backwards toward the door, pretended to answer his phone and cover the receiver.

“So sorry, uh—nice running into you, Sirius. See you around.”

Sirius lifted a hand to wave, didn’t trust himself to speak without actually cackling. Remus waved as well, and Sirius bit his tongue hard to avoid a laugh.

“Bye, Ben,” he called merrily. “Good to see you.”

Ben grimaced, hesitated and waved again. “Remus,” he said flatly, hesitated with his phone still at his ear, and then sped out of the shop.

“Oh my god,” Remus started, jostling his hold on Sirius’ jacket before he cut him off with a firm grip on his arm.

“Shh,” Sirius hissed, pushing back a laugh so hard he felt his eyes start to water. “He left his date,” he managed to whisper.

“What?” Remus whirled around, glanced wide-eyed around the shop and then back in the direction of the door. “No!”

“He did,” Sirius wheezed. “He did, he did, he so did—”

The door bell chimed again and Sirius schooled his face into something more vaguely amused just as Ben barreled through the door again, still holding his phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he called across the shop, glancing back at Sirius’ table with a forced smile. “Uh—what’s—Noah, hey—yeah, sorry, let’s go. I have somewhere better, let’s—yeah, let’s just go—”

The poor boy—Noah, bless him—followed Ben confusedly out of the shop. Remus waved again, the bastard, and nearly made Sirius choke on a quick inhale to stave off a laugh, and then they were gone again.

Sirius turned back around, lest Ben or his poor date try for one last fleeting glimpse through the shop windows, covered his mouth with his hand and let himself laugh, finally, at the wide-eyed amusement on Remus’ face.

“Wow,” he breathed, gaping at the door where Ben had just disappeared. “That was wild.”

“Oh god,” Sirius laughed, wiping at his eyes. “Oh god, oh god, Remus—”

“How long was he here before I came back?”

“Not—not long,” Sirius managed through a fit of giggles. “Oh Jesus, you should have heard him, he was going on and on about all these guys he’s seeing and how ‘sorry he was to have made me uncomfortable’—”

“Uncomfortable?” Remus repeated incredulously. “About what?”

“Oh, he was entirely certain that seeing him here with someone else ruined my day,” Sirius said. “Did the whole ‘we can still get a drink sometime’ spiel and everything.”

Remus groaned. “I can’t believe I missed it. Those damn chocolate covered strawberries—I got distracted.”

Sirius pressed his face to Remus’ shoulder and laughed. “Oh, I love you,” he sighed. “You’re my favorite.”

“Okay, but really though—” Remus pulled back after pressing a kiss to his temple, meeting his eyes intently. “That fucking weirdo aside—we have to gameplan here. The strawberries are a must, but there’s also walnut fudge and white chocolate macadamia truffles, plus some of those round almond butter things you like. I took a picture, here—”

They managed to make it out of the chocolate shop with only three boxes of assorted confectionery and one whole tin of chocolate covered strawberries, plus a bottle of reasonably priced chardonnay from the cafe next door. After a dinner of Remus’ famous three-ingredient pasta, the two of them managed to get through one entire box and the majority of the strawberries by the time the wine was gone. And later, once they’d migrated to the bedroom in various states of undress after nearly half an hour of making out on Remus’ couch, Sirius pulled a miniature little bottle of dark chocolate syrup from his discarded coat pocket and waved it in the air pointedly.

“Your last Valentine’s surprise, mon chou,” he said, crawling up the bed to straddle Remus’ hips. He pushed up to his elbows and watched on dazedly as Sirius trailed the nozzle of the little bottle down his bare chest, circling at the waist of his jeans teasingly. “I’ll let you decide if you want to eat or be eaten.”

Remus’ jaw dropped open a little and his eyes went a bit cloudy, slipping distractedly up and down Sirius’ frame before grabbing his hips and flipping them over in a heap.

“You don’t even like dark chocolate,” he said matter-of-factly, pinning Sirius’ arms above his head in a quick move and grabbing the bottle with his free hand. He met Sirius’ eyes as he tore the plastic from the tip with his teeth, popped open the cap and squeezed until it overflowed, oozing in a little drizzle onto his stomach.

Sirius sucked in a breath. “That’s cold,” he gasped, squirming just enough in Remus’ grip to get him to hold his wrists tighter.

“Good,” Remus grinned conspiratorially. He pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to his lips and then sat up, squeezed Sirius’ wrists and letting them go with a firm “don’t move.”

After a mere couple of hours, they managed to very enthusiastically work their way through the entire little bottle plus the rest of the chocolate covered strawberries. Even though they’d chipped the paint on the wall behind Remus’ bed again and earned themselves a sharp rap against the ceiling from his upstairs neighbors, Sirius counted their first Valentine’s Day together as a win. And later, once they’d showered and brushed their teeth free of chocolate and crawled back into bed, Sirius ran his fingers through Remus’ hair where he lay against his chest, twirled a curl around his finger, and thanked the universe that his besotted, lovesick heart wouldn’t be forced to endure another Ben ever again.

[minyard-05]

Can I have some aaron minyard hcs 🥹?

gladly! i'll talk about him any day

post-trial, it's easier to tell him and andrew apart because aaron grows his hair out a bit more, mostly because he hates getting it cut until he learns to do it himself. nicky thinks its great and keeps messing with it until aaron threatens to shave it into a mullet and nicky almost has a heart attack

a few of his non-fox friends are in a band together and one of their shows is the first official date he takes katelyn at the start of their third year

he gestures a lot whilst talking, and wont stop or break his flow if you hand him something so katelyn and some of their other friends started experimenting with how many various objects they could get him to gesture with before he noticed

he doesn't know how to drive and doesn't want to learn (#publictransitking) but katelyn does and he's happy to be a passenger princess

cd collector, thinks vinyl is dumb, has had multiple long conversations about this with matt

the t-shirts he owns consist of three varieties: band shirts, shirts with stupid science references or jokes on them, or plain colors. he's also never wearing just a tshirt and jeans, the dude layers to hell and back he's usually wearing a minimum of 3 layers in the winter, often a tshirt plus a hoodie or flannel plus a jacket

wears katelyn's vixens jacket more than he wears his own foxes jacket, usually because she has it and he lost track of it two months ago

in third year, after the deal is broken, the trial is over, and aaron gets to come out of his shell more, he is first interrogated by the vixens, but after he passes their test, he hangs out with them a lot and becomes the group's token singular guy friend. steps into the role with ENTHUSIASM. is dubbed sk8er boi on the group chat. he rides to away games on their bus with them and the whole squad basically adopts him. like a puppy

after 5 years at palmetto, 5 years of various shenanigans, parties and all kinds of other shit, aaron starts med school having kissed 3 men total. it is your guess as to who they are.

insomniac, absolutely not a pyjama guy, he just falls asleep in whatever he's wearing and gets berated by nicky for sleeping in jeans

drinks coffee black or not at all

CAN play guitar. has stepped in for that band i mentioned earlier exactly once and hasn't performed since. he did enjoy it though and he is decently proficient at guitar. he picked it up in high school because he was able to take lessons an hour before school started, which ended up a perfect excuse to leave the house before tilda was awake, and then not get back until after exy practice. he drops it for a while between high school and palmetto, he doesn't play during the main trilogy taking place, but andrew gets him his first guitar after the trial is over

goes to stay with katelyn's family for the summer before he has to be back in SC for the trial but they leave early because her parents and a couple older relatives don't approve. he calls matt, who agrees to pick him up and take him to stay with randy in NY until the trial. katelyn tries to come with him but he tells her to stay with her family. she meets him in SC when he comes back

oh my god the dude had such an emo phase. he never dyed his hair but he definitely spent like a year wearing all black when he was 14 and the release of three cheers for sweet revenge in 2004? absolutely life changing. the black parade came out right before halloween in TRK, that album was doing SO MUCH for him

dog person (has a lab puppy named lily that katelyn got him when they got into medical school)

later on he's absolutely Terrified of being a father (even though he's good at it). after they find out they're having twin girls, katelyn has to stay overnight in the hospital, so the nurses tell him to go home and rest but he's too freaked to sleep. he calls wymack instead and wymack picks him up and on the drive back to he and abby's house, aaron talks about all of it– his mom, his fear of being like her, and he's terrified of the twins ending up like him and andrew, terrified that shitty siblings runs in the family. he spends the night with wymack and abby, who take care of him, promise to help out and babysit when aaron and katelyn need, and wymack basically says "look man if i can deal with the foxes for five years, you can take care of your girls". they're born a couple months later, wymack and abby keep their promise, and aaron is exactly as good a dad as they said he would be

[missfrustration]

on a no name basis (toji fushiguro x fem!reader) 18+

rating: explicit 18+, minors please do not interact!

A/N: posted in 2022 on my ao3 account! enjoy! (p.s. a yukata is a summer kimono for future reference)

tags: pwp, smut, vaginal sex, one night stand, outdoor sex, creampie, spit as lube, spit kink, size difference, begging, dom toji fushiguro, dom/sub, some praising, dubious consent, choking, no use of y/n

word count: 2.6k

During your time at the city’s summer festival, you have been captivated by this man who crossed your path over an hour ago. At first, you noticed him passing you by on the bustling main road of the festival. You were celebrating the night with your friends, dressed in decorative yukatas, and noted how interesting he was. Not only was he not in any festival attire, but his aura and energy were almost intimidating. In addition to that, he towered over most people with ease, and his unusually muscular build told a story he was not one to mess with. It was captivating. Honestly, it was hard to look away from him until the very last moment before the crowd swallowed up his appearance. 

It wasn’t until you saw him the second time about thirty minutes later that you decided you wanted to follow his trail. While you and your friends were busy chatting on the edge of the festival, you could spot him off to the side with seldom people around. Once again, his presence was intriguing. At first, his large build attracted you. Still, as your thoughts on him had settled, it was also his low-profile demeanor and natural confidence that you decided to approach him. 

You excused yourself from your friends for the rest of the night. After some drawn-out goodbyes from friends who didn’t want to see you go, you delayed your final departure and ultimately lost sight of him. You look to the main street for any signs; no dice. You bet on walking to where he stood last and working it out. 

You spot him after a few minutes of searching in more reserved crowds. He is a ways away in a vacant area, sitting alone on a ledge and watching the city view. You’re feeling rather lucky with how you could spot him from where you were, that you could barely tell it was him until you walked closer. With the festival being at a higher elevation, it gives you and him a perfect view of the city. It’s the ideal opportunity for you to approach him now! With the summer festival coming down from its peak hours, you find it hard to believe that people will walk this far out to see the view and potentially disturb your encounter with this stranger. 

You were a few trees away from reaching the clearing he was situated in when you stopped yourself. Oh, god . You thought. I have nothing to ask of him. You stop in your tracks, hiding behind a tree about a hundred feet from him to recollect yourself, develop a decent set of lines to hold a conversation and prepare yourself for-.

It didn’t take long for him to call you, leaning his head back to look in your direction, “You seem very interested in me, young lady.” He calls out to the wooded area you were in.

Thus, it leads you to your current situation. When the stranger opens his mouth, you feel stuck on what to do. Responding to him with anything was complicated when a man twice your size casually called out to you. After a few moments of your stammering with no sound coming out, the man leads the conversation again.

“Have I met you before or something?” The man scratches his head, gets up from his seat, turns to you, and walks your way. He ponders to himself, searching his brain for an answer. “I don’t recall seeing you during a job. And I know you aren’t hired to take me out with that presence.” He looks you up and down with chilling curiosity, like he’s searching for any hint in your figure.

You’re thoroughly confused now. His job? You think. I couldn’t even imagine if I had seen him before or not when I can't even think of his career. “No, I don’t think so.” You feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach, thinking this might have been a bad idea to follow him. 

“So, what gives?” He asks with surprising intrigue and closes the distance between you two. In no time, the strange man’s figure towers over you. You see the outline of all his muscles before you in the moonlight. His shirt firmly sculpts his body, with sleeves cutting off perfectly at the peak of his biceps. His gray sweatpants hug the top of his hips and taper into a looser fit at the legs. A chill runs up your spine. His face looks like one of a beast with only a tinge of humanity. With his size, your tiny figure seems even more diminutive than whom you face.

“You’re not getting scared, are you?” He must have sensed your uneasiness too well. He almost looks a little amused by you. 

“Of course not. Do I have a reason to be scared?” You save face, trying your best not to look intimidated.

He gives you a knowing look, leaning down until your faces are only inches apart. “That depends on why you're here, silly girl. Namely,” He says mischievously, “If you wanted to get closer, you could’ve just asked for it.”

You feel your face warm up at his perfect guess, “I suppose I didn’t want to be too forward. I’ve just,” You look away in embarrassment, “I’ve been curious about you.”

“Oh? Curiosity can be dangerous, young lady.” He places his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting your head so he can look at you closer. He murmurs, “Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

You freeze under his eyes; his words keep you in a longing gaze on the man as his firm grip on you keeps you still. Even if you wanted to leave, you doubt you could physically back down from this man. His subtle forearm veins tense with the grip he has on you. A chill runs down your spine in lustful excitement, and warmth comes to your face. “I’m willing to find out.” You whisper seductively to the man. In his mind, he sees the flustered, half-lidded woman before him and realizes what she wants; now, it is what he wants. 

“Well, you’ll certainly do.” He says with a subtle smirk. Before you move, his hands quickly work on your summer kimono ties, undoing them with little struggle. The chilled air hits your skin as the once-tightened fabric loosens. You shiver slightly before your entire body starts to heat up, wanting to take off more to expose yourself to the mysterious man. You quickly aid in loosening the ties with nimble fingers, which only encourages him to keep going. 

Not like you’re complaining.

Once the ties had been tossed to the ground, the man used his massive hands to rest on your shoulders and grip the hem of your yukata, ripping it off of you only to reveal the light camisole and skirt you were wearing under. The heavy, silky yukata fabric instantly slips off you and down to the ground, rustling the fallen leaves under you two. The camisole straps freely fall off your shoulders, revealing more of your chest line. This affects the man more than he lets on, as he suddenly spins you around, facing away from him, before roughly guiding you to the first tree he can push you to. His palms press against the bark as he begins pecking sloppy kisses up and down your neck, earning you a longing sigh of relief. You feel his body weight needingly press into you as he reaches one arm down to palm your ass while pulling down the skirt. Now, one arm pins you against the tree as he continues running his other up and down your tiny body, with thick veins clearly popping out from his muscular forearms. He slowly retreats from your hips, bringing his calloused, rough hand below your mouth. 

“Spit.” He grunts.

You pause, wondering what exactly he means by that. It isn't for a few moments before the realization pops into your head, instantly turning you on. You shiver, swiftly doing what he says. Collecting the saliva inside your mouth, you spit it into his already cupped hand. It slowly pools to the center of his palm as it leaves your mouth. Although you spit out as much as you could, it only formed what looked like a small circle in his massive hand. 

He scoffs, leaning down to whisper in your ear again. “Oi. Listen, you don’t understand what’s about to happen.” 

Your mind blanks at the proximity of his whispers. His hot, wet breath starts to dampen the top of your ear. You feel something poke into your backside, but you don’t realize what’s causing it until the tall figure utters more words. 

“You’re dealing with this, ” that poke turns into a hard press, which you immediately recognize as his now freed erection. A huge erection. “So, unless you want that pretty pussy fucked raw…” He reaches to your mouth again with your spittle still in his hand in a chilling, demanding voice. 

“Spit. More.” 

His words evoke a sense of need once more, and you immediately search in all the corners of your mouth to spit out as much as you can. After conjuring enough to dry your mouth entirely, you slowly gob it into his hand in a wordless exchange. He begins to drag his hand away and lower to rub on himself when a strong string of saliva connected from the pool to your lip breaks, quickly dribbling off your chin to your chest's hot skin. It starts to run onto the top of your breast and slowly roll down.

“Didn’t get it all in my hand, huh?” He asks. “Let me get that for you.” He grins as he leans down, pressing his long, hot tongue on the wet skin to sop it up. As he trails down to your hardened nipple, this emits a delightful moan. He opens his mouth to welcome more of the skin of your breast, instantly warming up in his mouth, now protected by the chilly forest air. He continues with a few flicks of his tongue on your nipple, making you tingle in pleasure. His mouth slowly travels back to the tip of your ear as he starts to pump himself with your spit as a lubricant. 

“Get ready.” He stops pumping, dropping his cock onto your back and tapping it a few times on your ass. You hum a breathy yes, pussy throbbing as his hands end up on your hips, lining your hole up to his wet cock. Gradually, your pussylips part, and you hold your breath as he presses his head in firmly. 

“Mm- Ah!” A loud yelp leaves your mouth. Immediately you cry out when his head enters, feeling stretched beyond your abilities before starting. Fuck, he’s bigger than what you felt pressed against your back earlier. You start panting and whining for him in a panicked tone, and the pain begins to dull. You feel embarrassed for reacting so strongly to just the head. 

His other hand runs up to your chest and firmly places his fingers between your breasts as his body presses against you. Thanks to his grip, you aren’t in control of where your center of gravity is now. He continues his ease into your cunt, slowly sinking himself into you while he keeps his hands on your shoulder and ass. 

“Do you feel how fast your heartbeat is going?” His voice is breathy and wet as his lips press on your skin behind your ear. He bottoms out entirely inside you and does not pause before pumping in and out of you again. 

You swallow, barely being able to because of how dry your mouth is, and nod languidly as you pant harder. You feel your heartbeat pound a fast, intense rhythm that resonates throughout your body and ears. 

“I plan to pound into you as fast as your heart beats. I will go even faster the more you want this. You should think about that before we keep going.” He smirks with knowing intimidation. Although it seemed threatening, it just turned you on more. Your eyes widen as you whimper in a very unconvincing agreement, your blood on fire as you pant at his words.

You hear the muscular man grunt and shift behind you, “Fuck, I can feel how much you liked that. Hah, shit. You’re more fucked up than I thought.” He genuinely chuckles at you while you feel somewhat embarrassed.

His dick is moving slower inside of you now. You groan in disapproval.

“M-move,” You plead. You feel so much want from this man that it’s driving you crazy how still he is, especially after the words he just muttered in your ear. You want so much more right now than what he could be doing. 

He snickers at you, now wholly unmoving. He lets go of his grip on your body and instead wraps a hand around the shaft of his dick while his head stays in your pussy. “No way. Now that I know how bad you want it, I won’t move until you beg for it.” He seems genuinely amused at the citation, taking the most advantage of it. “Beg how much you want this inside your pussy.”

“But, but-”

“Beg for me. Now.” He grunts at you. 

Although you have just met this man tonight, you are already drawn to do whatever he wants from you. You try to move your hips against him in protest, trying to get any relief from the fraction of dick he has inside you now. His hand pushes you forward, forcing your body to lean against the bark. He’s locked you from moving, evading your plans, and keeping your hips from grinding against him. You groan in need and disapproval.

“Well, that won’t work, silly girl.” He snickers, keeping an iron grip on your back, “You’ll have to give me what I want.”

With no other option, you pause and catch your breath.

“Please,” you whimper. Your cheeks tint pink at what you plan to have come out of your mouth next.

“Please, what?” He asks. His giant right-hand wraps around the side of your waist with the same pressure as his left hand still grips around his length. He is keeping only an inch of himself in you.

“Please… fuck my pussy.” Your voice is a whisper now, but you feel his head rock back and forth inside you. You hiss in pleasure as another inch of his cock plunges into you.

“What do you want right now?” He growls, waiting for a response from you.

“I… I want your cock. Please, please. Hahhhh…” He gives more leeway, slowly plunging his head in and out of you at a sluggishly agonizing pace. 

“How bad?” The man simpers. He increases the pace to a snail’s now. Even then, the feeling is so divine. You scratch against the tree before you, tightening your core and clamping around his dick.

“So bad. So fucking bad. Oh, my go-mmmnnn~.” Your knees shake violently in anticipation of more as they threaten to buckle under you. The man senses this, lifts you, and wastes no time readjusting the both of you to keep you positioned for him. 

“So compliant. What a slut. Keep begging for me, and you’ll get what you want.” He lets more of his length slowly enter in and out of you. You desperately want more of him, realizing the more you beg, the more he will give you. Now, as you are eager to feel more of him. 

You feel the pleasure build up, slowly losing composure and ability to stay quiet. “Please fuck me. Please… fuck my pussy.” You let go of any embarrassment you once felt as pure desperation and lust coats your voice. 

You cry out again. “God, I need you so bad. I need you right n-AH! Fuck!” You scream in pleasure as the man releases his hand from his length and sinks his entire cock inside you. You didn’t realize how much more of him you needed to prepare for, but it was way more than expected. The screams in your mouth are so out of control that they feel like butter slipping through your throat. Your weight buckles completely under you as you mewl and moan. This time he lifts you, steadying yourself against the tree. Your hands claw on the bark, barely keeping your posture, yet the strength of his hands that grip your body keeps you stable enough. 

The man is relentless, immediately jackhammering into your already sore cunt. Your entire body violently shakes at the pressure being put in and out of your core, but his firm grip keeps your hips still. You twitch and convulse at each movement, gripping anything before you for any desperate release to your pleasure. You can only claw at the tree bark you are pressed against and can’t help but take every single inch of cock that he plunges into you.

“I can’t, hahh- fuck!- I can’t keep quiet.” You moan out. You feel embarrassed, but the embarrassment of being caught by stranglers from the festival worried you the most. Although you two are basically in the trees, the thought is current. 

“Just breathe. Nobody else needs to hear your sexy voice but me.” He leans in huffed whispers, licking a long stripe up your neck to nip your ear. You try as hard as possible to stay quiet, only panting heavily with soft cries of pleasure.

“Hahh, thaat’s it.” He groans in satisfaction. “You are so good for me. Tch, dirty girl.” He growls in your ear. You can only respond in soft whimpers at this point in fear of moaning loudly if you speak. His hand vices around your body and snatches onto your neck, gripping your chin to tilt it towards him. You look at this man’s face, filled with hunger and pure lust, and can’t help but be more at his will.

“Open your mouth.” He demands. You waste no time opening your mouth, wondering what he plans to do to you next. 

You hear the man clear his throat, then feel a warm glob of liquid dribble into your mouth. Your eyes widened, welcoming his warm spit down your throat as he pounded harder into your pussy. The sensation overwhelms your throat, with saliva dripping from your mouth and onto the ground. Your heart beats louder with the messy exchange of saliva that starts building up your release. 

“There you go again.” The man is quick to notice this too. Almost off of a hutch, it’s like he knows how much faster the beat of your heart increases as he also increases his thrusting speed. Your slick cunt, as well as your spit, has lubricated both of you. All you can hear is the deafening sound of his balls clapping against your pussy as the pressure increases. It rings in your ears, making the build-up to your orgasm even more dizzying. 

You become unintelligible, wanting to take a break from how good this stranger makes you feel to process every stream of passion you have shared to enjoy this thoroughly. In reality, you both know how badly you want to cum, and how close it is coming up.

You grab onto the tree relentlessly to brace yourself for your orgasm as your other hand claws onto his wrist with need. He can tell by the pulse of your cunt that you are close. He slips his hand under your arm and up to your neck, putting pressure on your airways as you teeter over the edge. 

“You’re mine now. I want to feel you shudder from me. Fuck.” His face buries into your shoulder, and slowly his coils of pleasure unravel from how tight your pussy is starting to twist around him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Neither can you. 

“Fuck!” You scream. Releasing your last hesitations, you fully let yourself loose, moaning into an earth-shattering orgasm. The man takes his dick out only to plunge it in repeatedly to help you ride out of pleasure until he can’t hold back any longer. 

You feel warm creamy liquid shoot into you as you ride out your high. The tall man has kept a firm grip on you this entire time, which is just now diminishing that he has finished his peak. Over and over, he stammers his hips into you, grunting from how hard your pussy clamps around him.

“Hah, hahh... Fuck.” It isn’t until he stops his hips that he gently places your figure back on the ground. His dick escapes you as the warm liquid slowly seeps down your thighs. Your legs shake as your total weight feels too intense on your feet. You feel so much pleasure post-orgasm that you barely care about this. Instead, you rest on the tree bark and catch your breath as the man does the same. 

There is a pause in the air while you both try to collect yourselves from, frankly, a good fuck. You let go of your entanglement of each other and recover until you two end up looking at each other with a relaxing air. He ends up breaking the silence in the end.

“Hey there, I’m Toji.” 

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Thanks for reading! Want more? Here's my other Toji fic.

ao3 | tiktok | kofi | masterlist

[madisonthetimewalker]

You know what fuck it take modern AU Adamai headcanons

1. Adamai works in retail do not ask why he just does.

2. He has clip on ear rings he got his ears pierced once and he regretted it because of the pain

3. He doesn’t like to express himself very much mostly keeping to himself and not talking about his problems.

4. He likes to read and I mean he LOVES reading, if you’re lucky you can catch him on break reading a comic book.

5. He knows how to skateboard (yugo does not and he laughs at this)

6. He mostly stays in his room only coming out for food or unless he wants to be outside for a bit. Other than that he doesn’t really leave his room.

7. He’s very smart about specific dragon cultures, every so often you can catch him in the library reading about dragon myths and possibly ancient food recipes.

8. Surprising he’s very quiet, sure at a young age he was bubbling with joy but now he’s more quiet and sometimes shy.

9. He doesn’t really like big gatherings it was never his thing. If he didn’t know anybody there then he would sit in a corner and mind his own business. (This man has horrible social anxiety)

10. His taste in fashion is decent most of the time he just wears baggy jeans and a shirt, he isn’t much for looking nice.

11. I like to see him as this huge nerd, for example if you ask him about a specific event involving ancient dragonic history. He will talk for hours explaining every detail and every bit of lore (look at my nerdy boy)

12. He doesn’t have many friends at work or at all for that matter, he just works although yes people have tried to talk to him in the past he rarely interacts with them.

13. He loves listening to drama, he loves to listen in on interesting conversations it’s like a hobby at this point.

14. Adamai isn’t much of a people person (as I have said multiple times in this post) and if your lucky enough he might talk to you about specific issues and topics, although he has this bad habit of dozing off during conversations. (Just like me fr)

15. He’s a heavy daydreamer, often times you can see him standing in the middle of nowhere dozing off we don’t know how he does this or how he gets himself in these situations but god is it funny.

16. He gets embarrassed easily when told he did a good job on something, Adamai rarely if ever gets compliments so telling him he’s the best guy in the world it makes him hide his face due to how red it gets.

17. He gets scared easily but not like “omg everything scares him!” More like if you come up behind him without him hearing you he will scream like a banshee.

18. He can run and I don’t mean “oh he’s just fast” HE’S PRETTY FUCKING FAST, if this man so much as sees a big ass spider he’s fuckin GONE

19. I like to believe Adamai has a huge sweet tooth. He loves to eat sweets whenever he gets the opportunity

20. He hates night shift and I mean HATES IT if he so much as hears one creek from the ceiling his ass is already out the door.

21. He has humor trust me it’s there, he isn’t one to make jokes but when he does none laughs sadly mostly because they don’t get it and Adamai has the humor of a broken down 1950’s truck. (Don’t worry Adamai I’ll laugh at your ridiculously stupid jokes)

22. He rarely sleeps (unlike qilby who’s sleep schedule is so bad that it could rival that of Xelor himself) but when he does he’s knocked out for Atleast 2 days. Adamai honey please take care of yourself I’m begging you.

23. He listens to music a lot it’s mostly to block out the annoying noise of people talking and baby’s crying for no reason

24. He can babysit (if you pay him enough) he hates it but he does it for people who need a break.

25. He gets bored easily, sometimes you can find him in the skatepark minding his own business.

Ok that’s all for now can you tell he’s my fav? And can you tell how much I love modern AU’s?