#Pity he keeps dying and coming back anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpjaes · 1 year

Text

SIMP

SUMMARY: men are liars. especially, jake sim, some guy you met once at a party and now only know through text messages. he makes promises he can’t keep but it’s mostly because he likes to hide that he’s more desperate than you are to get his dick wet.

jake sim x afab reader

MDNI!

WC: 5.6k

GENRE: smut, kinda subby!jake

TAGS: desperate jake, he’s experienced with sex just really bad at not being pussy drunk, reader has fun anyway and pokes fun at how he talked big game and couldn’t live up to it.

A/N: i know, i know. i’m supposed to be writing a different jake fic but this happened. this is a gift for my other monster cock loser jake lovers. not proof read

NSFW TAGS: he is packing a huge cock, nipple play, finger fucking, pussy eating, he gets compared to a dog/puppy a few times, dirty talk, jake gets desperate enough mid-way though and does fuck her really good, unprotected sex, cream pie, lots and lots and lots of cum.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Six times the man known as Jake Sim rendered you sore the next morning using nothing but pixel words on your phone screen. Six times over the span of two weeks.

You met him at a party, and he was both the first and the last man you spoke to that night. You should have caught on back then why he didn’t bring you home with him and only offered you his number with a wink and a shit-eating grin.

Now, as you see him in front of you again, this time in your apartment, you can see exactly why he didn’t bring you home. His facade would have been broken and you never would have been able to see the dirty little texts he’s able to send when he doesn’t have you looking him in the eye.

“Didn’t you say you were going to have me against every surface in my apartment the second you get here?” You question, twenty minutes into him being over and not once making a move on you.

He looks much more awkward compared to the tipsy man you originally met, still his dyed blond hair looks just as messy though. His fashion is still on par with the attitude you’d seen him throw at you too but, this version of him is throwing you for a loop. His lack of response leads you to believe that he must have lost interest in the span of time he’s been over.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” Jake finally responds, brushing his fingers through his hair as he sits stiffly next to you on your bed, fully clothed. “Usually I don’t actually come see the girls I text.”

You shuffle next to him, turning with an eyebrow raised at him.

“So you’re not going to, then?”

Jake looks at you dumbfounded, shaking his head as if to pity himself before nodding quickly.

“I’d like to,” he argues, fiddling with his hands and avoiding your eyes now. “I just, um…”

You wait, allowing the silence to take hold of the room.

“I’m a little more uh–” He fidgets and fumbles his words again. “Listen, I don’t want to disappoint you if I don’t live up to how we normally talk.”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, feeling duped by the man sitting there.

“I’m actually kind of like–” He lets out a deep sigh before turning toward you with honest eyes. “You’re making me shy, okay?”

You breathe in, shocked because based on the strings upon strings of sentences he’s thrown your way via text, the last thing you’d ever consider Jake is fucking shy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He was right in telling you he was shy, and by now you appreciate the warning from him. It took a few minutes to get yourself back into the mood, but it happened nonetheless when he finally buckled under your gaze and kissed you.

If there was anything Jake did that he promised, it was kissing you in a way you never knew you needed. He was good at it too, so good that you nearly forgot he was supposed to have already fucked you on every surface the two of you passed to get to the very room you’re in right now.

Kind of strange actually, that he seems so different compared to his fantasies with girls he never thinks he will actually see again. So cocky in his text messages, saying he will ruin you, asking if you’d choke on his dick, saying he would love to see you struggle under him. Now though, that very man is struggling to keep his hands to himself despite admitting that he’s shy.

You chuckle into the kiss, feeling his hands reach for you with the sound of rustling clothing against your duvet. You let him chase as you slide lower, lower, lower, until your head is against your pillow and he’s practically hovering over you to keep kissing.

This is what you wanted. Jake over you, dominating a kiss and roaming his hands up and down your body.

“Shy?” You question between kisses, trailing your hand down to meet where his was, snaking under your shirt. “You seem to know exactly what you want.”

Jake’s eyes are empty as he looks at you, the cold feeling of his fingertips do not stop though. He continues to trail them upward until they meet the flesh of your chest, where you skipped the bra because you expected it to be a nuisance if anything tonight.

You’re shocked by his slight groan at the feeling of your already erect nipples. His groan seemed like it came out of relief, your body showing signs of being turned on despite his reluctance that was never promised to you.

“If you were like this over text, I still would have liked you, you know.” You admit to him with a sigh as he trails his lips down to your jaw, and you reach for his waist to pull him further on top of you. “You’re cute still, even if you’re not about to make me cry like you said you would.”

His cock twitches at that, wishing so much that he could live up to those dirty thoughts in his head and just fucking do it. But he can’t, because his body doesn’t work like that. If he were to do all of those things to you right now, he would surely come within the span of fifteen seconds and make this the worst fuck of your life. He’s too desperate to have control, and far too timid to even pull his cock out right now.

“It’s embarrassing,” he whispers against your earlobe, trailing kisses there too until he gets to the collar of your shirt. “I want to do those things to you, but I don’t think I’d be able to last if–”

He’s cut off by you shoving him up and pulling your shirt off in one go, trying to get to business much quicker now that he appears to at least be turned on. (Wrong, he’s been turned on since before he even got here.)

Jake trails off his sentence, forgetting what he was even going to say as the flesh of your breast sits comfortably in one of his hands and the other springs free. His cock twitches again as he stares, practically burning a hole through you as he looks, mouth slowly opening in a sigh at the image.

You see him malfunction and wonder if maybe, maybe, this could be even better than what you originally were expecting. Such a rough looking man with messy hair and even rougher fingers acting like this at the mere sight of some titties? Sign you the fuck up.

“God, look at you.” You groan with a smile, chuckling at the way he appears to blush. “You talk such big game but…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jake shakes it off, releasing his hand from your chest and now removing his own shirt and revealing a nice, toned body for you to look at. “It’s not my fault you make me act this way.”

“Oh? Just me, or?”

Jake nods, then shakes his head.

“Not entirely, I’m just better at fucking over text.” He explains, now settling one leg between yours and dipping his head down to your chest, nuzzling against one of your tits and grabbing the other. “Doesn’t change the fact that I still want to fuck you right now though.”

You feel those words run through you, his soft voice coming out raspy and needy when he says it.

“You’re a weird one,” You laugh, gripping his hair and bucking your hips up to straddle his thigh. “and I still want you fuck me, even if it’s not the way you said you would.”

He licks against your chest now, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as he focuses on the feeling of you riding against his thigh. He’s thankful you still act desperate, at least you weren’t lying when you talked to him through texts.

“I’ll still make you feel good.” He whispers in a slight plea against your nipple, moving his head to the other and suckling against that one next. “Just let me try.”

God, you didn’t expect those four little words to hit you the way they do. A man asking you to let him try? Jake Sim at that? Sure, by now it should be expected but this is a different kind of heat flowing through you. Never have you been given control, and never have you felt the need to ride a man’s thigh like this.

“Jake,” You start, a little out of breath as you move your hips against him to the point that clothing becomes far more annoying than not. “Can we please take our clothes off before anything else?”

He pauses against your nipple, nodding before suckling again and then finally pulling away.

“You first.” He says, not yet wanting to pull his thigh from the way you move against it.

You look up at him, his lips glistening from his own saliva coating your chest.

“Why? Are you lying about your massive cock too?”

Jake looks down at the bulge between his legs and then back at you. Your eyes followed him to his cock, and they remained there.

“Oh.” You smile, now having the ability to pull yourself from his thigh and pull your shorts off at record speed. “Show me.”

Jake lets out a breathy and nervous chuckle, his ears flashing a darker shade of red than before as he nods to you in a timid way. You watch his hands go for the button and zipper, and you watch them further as they lower his pants to his knees before he kicks them away behind him. Now, all that’s left is looking at the already dampened spot on his briefs and the huge length stuffed beneath, clearly needing some relief.

He still looks away from you, not yet moving to take off his briefs until you feel his hands pull at your panties.

“Can I see now too?” He asks, already pulling them to the side and catching a glimpse of your folds. He shudders visibly at it before letting your panties snap back into place and all you can do is stare, still, between his legs.

“Take them off.” You deadpan.

He’s unsure if you’re implying he take his off, or yours, so he shoots for what he would prefer, gripping your panties and rolling them off of you.

“Take. them. off.” You say, ignoring the fact that you’re entirely vulnerable before him, yet feel safe and comfortable because of how timid yet eager he appears to be.

He fumbles to follow your direction, quickly kicking off his briefs and positioning himself between your legs again, sitting on his knees.

Your eyes don’t leave his exposed cock. Thick and heavy. He truly wasn’t lying about that at least, and you can imagine that regardless of how shy he is, he definitely could make good on his word with a cock like that.

“Oh, fuck.” You comment, lifting on your elbows and sitting up. Your face is now mere inches from his, but your eyes continue to stare down.

He puts a hand over himself shyly, wondering if maybe you’re not impressed, maybe he’s a complete fraud.

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, leaning a bit back and away from you.

“Disappointed?” You laugh, looking back up at him and instantly grabbing his face, staring directly into his eyes. “Jake, you’re bigger than what you described it as.”

He smiles a bit, feeling all fuzzy and warm inside as you look at him. His confidence bubbles up, giving him every ability in the world at this moment, and what does he do with it? He looks between the two of you as he drops his cock and watches it land between your legs, and then he looks back at you before dipping in for a much less timid kiss.

Feeling his cock rest between your legs is one thing, but feeling how his tongue kisses into your mouth at a more eager pace than before is an entirely different thing. You’re loving it, despite the turn of events with him.

“Not so shy now, hm?” You laugh, tilting your head before dipping back in to kiss him only to be met with a sigh of chuckles from him.

“If you keep complimenting me, maybe someday I can live up to all those promises,” He says, putting a hand at the nape of your neck and laying you back down. “Then again, I don’t expect to last nearly as long with how wet you seem to have gotten.”

You hum against his words, hands reaching between your body and his to grab his length and hold it, just to feel the weight, just to see how much of it you can fit into one hand…just to see if–

He groans at the first touch, his body shivering against yours as he trails his lips down again, landing against your neck with a small pant when his hips buck into your palm.

“I can’t believe that this whole time, this is how you react to having your dick touched.”

He says nothing and instead, continues to fall into the feeling of the short tugs against his cock, barely stimulating his entire length but still feeling like it’s enough to keep him pleased for the time being.

“Wanna, maybe, I don’t know–” You playfully start, tugging his cock a bit harder this time after collecting some of the pre-cum from the head, “Touch me too?”

Say no more, Jake’s fingers are instantly at your entrance as soon as you say it, sliding in so easily that it nearly makes you forget that you even told him to do it. His fingers are slender, and each joint on the digits are felt against your aching and gripping walls.

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” he coos, bottoming his two fingers out before gently beginning to thrust them in. “Were you like this when we texted too?”

“Wetter.” You lie, mostly because you were extremely wet from his texts but this…this is entirely different. You’re far more wet.

“Oh?” Jake asks, looking slightly disappointed but you can feel the way he changes how he moves his fingers. He also stops rutting against your hand, as if to put all of his focus on making you as wet as possible.

You moan for him at the feeling, his fingers tickling a spot inside of you that always has you seeing stars. Part of you wonders if he even knows he’s doing it, but you don’t press him, instead, you reward him with a tighter grip, pumping his cock until you can feel more beads of pre-cum slathering your fingertips.

“You need to be more confident, fuck–” You call out in a half moan, unprepared for the Jake that showed up but completely prepared to praise the hell out of what he’s doing. “This alone could have anyone on their knees.”

He smiles, furrowing his brow as he looks up at you, fingers picking up pace and starting to scissor you open.

“Can I taste you?” He asks out of fucking nowhere, and god.

“Jesus, Yes.” You groan, feeling him pound his fingers into you three more times before sliding out and pulling away from you.

You close your eyes, anticipating what it must be like to have him eat your pussy, and fuck, he wasn’t lying about that either. You remember that text from him, when he said “i’ll lick up every inch of your pussy babe, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

The fact that you didn’t ask him to do it. The fact that he’s down there right now, already spreading you open on his tongue and licking every sensitive dip and corner he can reach. You’re just more and more pleased with this shy man that showed up on your doorstep.

His tongue is warm and firm no matter where he licks, and only softens up when he goes to lick a flat stripe up your slit, essentially sucking up all of the wet you’re offering him and savoring it through whimpered groans at the way your legs attempt to squeeze around his head.

He knew you’d taste good but this is on a whole other level. He can’t help it when he grips your thighs and spreads your legs out further, and he certainly can’t help himself when he prods his tongue into you, trying to taste more of what you have to offer.

You can feel his tongue dipping in, and the way he grips your thighs renders you nearly useless if you were to try and wiggle away, not that you’d ever want to but it almost tickles with how good it feels. Your legs begin to shake in his grasp, and he only spreads them further at that, tilting his head at an angle to lick into you even deeper.

“Holy shit,” You sigh out, reaching down frantically to hold his head in place so that you can grind your hips forward against his stiffened tongue.

He’s nearly going insane the moment you do that, riding his tongue and gripping his hair so harshly. If he could die like this, it would only be a dream.

Jake hums into you with his lips curling up at each drag of your hips, each taste of your walls, up until you’re grinding so aggressively that his tongue is back to hitting your clit for a split second before dipping in. He lets you do it, loving the way you use his face like a toy but, he’s starting to feel desperate for you.

In this position with his arms hugging your thighs and back arched as he dips down to lick you, his cock is fucking aching and all he can do is fuck forward. There is nothing for him to pleasure himself with, but this suffices for him as the act of humping forward alone is enough to satiate his intense need to fuck something right now.

Like a dog, humping just to release his intense arousal as he holds onto you. He should be embarrassed, but he knows you can’t see him do it. Especially when he flicks his eyes up and sees your tits jiggling with each move of your hips. Especially when you open your own eyes and they land only on his face. He’d like to think he’s doing a hell of a job right now, especially with how no matter how much he licks, you continue to drip for him.

As you continue to ride yourself against his face, you suddenly feel his fingers squeezing against your thighs and his head abandon where you guide him. Wanting to taste you still, he neglects your riding hips and plants his lips at your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue until your grip in his hair grows more and more painful and you pull him back to look at him.

His eyes are dazed and his lips are glistening in a swollen and cheeky little smile. He stares back at you, licking his puffy bottom lip before letting his eyes roll at the feeling of that grip you have in your hair.

“Fuck, you’re loving this aren’t you?” You ask, now trailing your eyes down to his body and noting the way he’s desperately chasing nothing with his cock. You know he wants it, and god, are you going to let him have it.

He grins when you ask him, and he nods proudly at how your arousal coats his mouth and chin. He can smell the entirety of you on his face and it truly does feel amazing to him. Like he’s spiraling into a world of bliss simply for getting to lick your pussy.

You can barely contain yourself as you watch him. It’s like you’ve lost him completely from reality with the way he’s smiling, and the way his eyes remain drowsy and hooded. You could argue that the man acts cross-faded, but the fact that he acts like this over your pussy?

“I bet if I asked you to fuck me right now, you’d beg like a little puppy, wouldn’t you?”

His groan is long and drawn out with his slow nod, his hips fucking forward instinctively when his eyes trail down and sees that your pussy is practically pulsing.

“Do you want me to beg?” He says in a shaky voice, his chest heaving as his grip on your thighs grow tighter and you drag him back up to your face.

There, the two of you look at each other for a brief moment before you feel him fuck forward again, sliding his cock against your drenched core and letting out another pained whimper.

“You’re so wet, please.” He cries against your lips as he drops his face lower.

Your arms shoot around him, feeling his back muscles tense with each intentional thrust against you. The weight of his cock is sliding consistently up and down your pussy, bumping your clit and overstimulating it to the point that all you’d need to do is tense your muscles and you’d be releasing.

He said please, and you can argue that he’d probably do a flip if you so much as asked him to right now. As much as you wanted to choke on his dick, at this point you’d rather feel what it’s like to have him losing control inside of you. You want to know how he uses it, and you’re already well aware that he very well may make you lose grasp on reality.

Even now, you can feel his slack lips moving up and down against your own as he continues to hump against you. You can feel his breath on your tongue when you try to see if he’s too lost to even kiss you. And that, he was.

“Go on,” You encourage him, running one hand down his arm and the other up to his hair to grip it again. There, you pull his head back, watching his neck crane and eyebrows furrow in a wince at the feeling. “Fuck me then.”

His unintentional moan comes out strained with the way you have his head pulled back, but he moves one arm to one side of your head and the other straight to his cock, where all he needs to do is press it down and hold it there. As he continues fucking against you, that small motion lets him slide in with ease.

You can feel his arm beside your head shake at the feeling of his length spreading you open. You can see the way he swallows thickly at the feeling, moaning out and staring at your ceiling as he feels your walls slowly hug his entire length.

He enters you slowly so that he can feel his sock squeeze your wet out of you, feeling it run down his balls. He shivers at the feeling and the sound of it, and you shiver at how deep he manages to slide in.

It’s so deep. His thick cock aches inside of you and with the way your walls squeeze him, and even when he tightly fucks forward once again once he’s already bottomed out, he manages to fill you just just that much more.

You groan out, releasing his hair from your shaking fingers and feeling his lips immediately kiss against your jaw and neck.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whimpers, relieving you of an inch of him before sliding back in slowly. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” He continues, moving a hand down to your thigh and swirling his fingertips there to try and calm your shaking legs.

You can’t really comprehend anything other than the fact that this man is so fucking hot, and the way he slowly moves his hips just to feel each and every clench of your pussy has you seeing stars. You feel like he’s filled you up beyond belief, and each thrust somehow makes his cock feel heavier, bigger.

Even as he babbles against your neck, his other hand falls to your tit and he can’t help but mindlessly play with it as he begins to actually fall into a rhythm. You’re still rendered completely speechless as you focus on every single touch he gives to you.

Those gentle, soothing circles of his fingertips on your leg, the other hand harshly pinching your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body, his cock being driven in, somehow, deeper and deeper as he continuously manages to hit your g-spot and– god, the way his lips slowly trail down to your other tit, biting you there.

“So tight, so good.” He babbles on, slamming his cock into you once before lifting from your breast to see your reaction.

When he looks up at you, a permanent shit-eating grin is planted on his face with the way you roll your eyes back in a silent moan. Perhaps he wasn’t so much of a liar in those texts. Seeing you react this way has his confidence skyrocketing as he continues to keep that pace. The sound of your pussy being pounded and dripping all over him. He can’t even believe how wet you are, how tight you are still.

He stays like this, staring at each reaction and silent moan as he focuses solely on fucking you as hard and deep as possible. He may not be fast, but he’s making sure you can feel every goddamn inch he has to offer, and it appears that you’re relishing in it.

Those silent moans you try to release always end in a small hiccup each time his hips meet your inner thighs, and it’s not long before you’re losing grasp all together. You shoot your hands to his arms, gripping his biceps as your only link to reality as you feel him continuously bump the back of your pussy in an immaculate show of how well he knows how to fuck.

“Jake,” You hiccup out, gripping his biceps harder as you clench around him.

Still, his cock drags through your attempts of speaking, and he continues to stare at you with a grin before hovering his lips over yours.

“What is it?” He whispers in a shaky breath, sucking in his bottom lip and only now picking up the pace so that he can render you speechless again.

You can feel his lips ghosting over yours, and you really thought you had something to say but the only thing that comes out is a sobbed out moan. You throw your legs around his waist now, moving your own hips to meet his and that alone has him spiraling again.

“Yeah,” He chuckles, dipping his head to your neck and resting it there, “Fuck me,” he whimpers this time, stilling his hips to feel the way you slide him in and out of you.

Still, your strength amazes him. He thought he had control for a few minutes there and yet here he is, acting much like you are with his trembling hands and trembling thoughts.

You continue to work your hips from under him, and you don’t even know when he stopped playing with your nipple but it doesn’t entirely matter. Not now, not when you need more of him.

He’s thrown off when you grab his hair again, and he still loves it as much as he did the first two times you did it to him. Then, he can hear your raspy voice whisper out to him as you drag his face, once again, to yours.

“Lay back.”

That’s all you had to say to have him immediately listening and maneuvering his body in a way that keeps his cock buried deep but still managing to throw himself back on the bed for you to take full control.

Now, he looks up at you and the way your darkened eyes devour him. He’s so fucking turned on right now that he thinks he might cry, especially with the way your knees hug his hips as you immediately start fucking yourself on him.

He’s in awe, hands reaching behind you to grab at your ass and spread it as you bounce on him. Each time you sit yourself down, it’s like you’re being impaled in the most pleasurable way possible. The way he keeps eye contact with you is intense and dangerously intimate, but you can’t bring yourself to look away either.

That smile forms back on his lips as you pick up your pace, and through that smile are moans so erotic you can feel your pussy drench him over and over again each time he does it. Never, have you had sex so fucking good in your life and it’s making you feel almost helpless as you work yourself up to an orgasm.

He still watches you though, before flicking his eyes down and taking in the image of your bouncing tits. He’s quick to remove his hands from your ass to fondle them before sitting himself up aggressively and sucking one into his mouth.

You moan out at that, stilling your bouncing as you opt now to sit with his cock entirely inside of you. You swirl your hips and plant your fingers in his hair, hugging his head as he sucks and bites a swollen spot against your chest before he holds you in an even tighter hug.

“I’m so, so close.” He says in a broken sigh, trying to move his hips up under your weight and failing to do it. You listen to his cries though, and resume your bouncing even through his harsh and suffocating hug.

“Yeah?” You ask, bouncing once, swirling your hips, and then pressing your weight on him to have him falling back into his rightful spot against your bed.

His grip around you remains, dragging you down with him as he breathes himself through the pleasure and babbles out strings of curses when you manage to still work your hips on him even though he’s gripping onto you for dear life.

“Gonna let me feel it?” You ask again, this time more playfully as you intentionally press your clit against his pelvis each time you slide him into you.

He nods brokenly, squeezing his eyes shut and loosening his grip on you, letting you break free and ultimately, intentionally fuck him until he’s pumping you full of everything he has to offer.

You watch as he lies there, seemingly lost again in the bliss of your pussy clenching around him. He barely notices your fingers circling your clit, and is shocked to realize that you’re releasing before him, despite how close he is.

He can feel your walls massage his aching cock as you begin to let out strained moans. He knows you’re coming the second he feels how tight you’re clenching, sucking his cock so deeply inside of you that he has no choice but to release.

He fucks into you as best he can at this moment, only stopping when he feels the first release inside of you, and there, he tenses his muscles and allows his stiffened length to nearly tear you in half as you continue to work through your own pleasure.

You can barely open your eyes to see his face, and the way his jaw is slack and his eyes are very nearly crossing before squeezing them shut. God, that alone could have made your orgasm last another ten seconds.

By the time you’re done, he’s still releasing somehow. The sheer amount of cum he’s spilling into you is arguably more than you’ve ever felt, and he trembles through it with whimpered apologies, begging you to stay on him, apologizing with a small “ fuck, wait, I’m still coming–”

And you do, especially through his shaking whisper of “please, take all of it.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He’s back to his timid self just an hour later, lying on your bed wondering when you’re going to tell him to leave. Wondering if you like him enough to let him do this again with you, hoping you don’t erase his number.

He’s pleased to know though that, you not only ask him to sleep over but you also make it your mission to go down on him the moment he wakes up next to you. Reminding him that even if he was different upon coming over, he still fucked you better than he ever promised.

You’d be stupid not to choke on it for him.

#sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #enhypen smut #jake smut #enhypen jake smut #sim jake smut

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tubbytarchia · 5 months

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To all the nosy neighbour enjoyers, thank you for being that. Anyway here's my propaganda!! Just some of my favorite moments tee hee

Sorry if my BigB looks weird (I tried really hard :( ) I'll pretend that that's intentional given my rabbit hybrid BigB thoughts under cut:

I made a little post about this before but basically BigB has such rabbit behavior:

1. Cannot help but keep burying himself underground like it's his natural habitat (seriously he comes back on ground to build a house on a mountain and then immediately makes an elaborate underground hideout again. Or how he built backrooms in SL and kept retreating there. Or how he was literally underground when he ran into Pearl, for Pearl to inform him that it was night time and BigB immediately wanting to retreat back underground. Or how he was underground for almost the entire "red winter is coming" session. Or)

2. Often fidgety around others

3. Constantly cautious but doesn't let nervousness show if there is any

4. More prone to keeping distance and watching rather than engaging

Idk he is extremely prey animal behavior (positive, affectionate) and I can never see him as anything but a rabbit now. I considered giving him rabbit legs too but then I was like nah. Because I think him having weird rabbit posture in a mostly human body contributes some inherent awkwardness and a bit of uncannines (fitting with his gaslighting tendencies). After all he's kind of out of his element above ground (or that's how he acts!) and that's when people are going to be seeing him. But just you wait till he stands tall for a change to tell someone off (like Cleo in SL or Scott in LimL). And with such posture, he inadvertently makes himself look smaller, which certainly would help him weasel his way out of undesired situations like he often does, eg by talking people into pitying him to save himself from dying. I'd also like to imagine him to be smart enough to manipulate his rabbit ears to not betray how he's feeling or to make others think he's feeling a certain way, unless he feels particularly threatened or something. That's maybe half the appeal of animal ears to me, that they can be an added tool for emoting, but a hybrid moving them in deliberate ways is a fun concept!

Oh and he has caving boots!!

I do kind of seethingly hate how he looks with his ears drawn back but I did the best I could. I really hate having human ears in addition to animal ears personally, but if I put his ears any further up where they'd look cuter (Pearl's antennae for comparision) it'll look really weird. Aghh whatever he's supposed to be awkward so whatever please ignore it Im going to cry

Also if you think the old design is cuter, it's almost certainly because of the lesser facial hair lol trust me!! And I changed the curly hair to be a bit less curly in likeness to Lee from Walking Dead because I did not realize that BigB's skin is basically that and I couldn't help myself. I was overall really unhappy with my old BigB design so yay for redesign. I swear its not just animal features that make things interesting for me...... maybe somewhat....

#thank you guys for voting big/pearl over big/grian I actually didnt think itd happen (Grian curse) (I LOVE Grian and the secret soulmates!!)#bigb #bigb fanart #pearlescentmoon #nosy neighbors #limited life fanart #not drawn with shipping in mind view as you wish #also I hope to god no one interprets the “He's mine” thing as yandere Pearl please do not do that thats not what that is #she's just protective. it's her first real friend since double life cut her some slack #trafficblr #tubby art

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

Text

Part 2

He has no right to be here.

He knows that.

He does.

Eddie watches as people pile into the church, all of them dressed to the nines. It's a Harrington affair through and through, and the sight of all these people that he knows Steve hates makes him feel sicker than he already is.

If he wasn't on the edge of crying he would have laughed at himself, like he had any right to judge anyone here. He's the one who dumped Steve. Perfect, wonderful, lovely Steve who just needed a few more years. He just needed to make sure the kids were safe until they graduated. But Eddie couldn't do it. He needed to leave, and Steve needed to stay.

So he ended it. Just like that. He ended it.

He hasn't seen him for three years. By all appearances, it was a good choice, the best thing he could have done for himself. Because against all fucking odds Eddie Munson ends up as a success. He's a star, a famous musician discovered in a shitty little bar. He somehow managed to actually live the dream he used to fantasize about.

He lives it up. He parties, he drinks, he fucks, he spends his early twenties being young and dumb like he always wanted.

And it's horrible. It's so horrible that it becomes hilarious to him. Because he knows why it's so bad. Of course he knows. But it's better this way, really. Because Steve deserved better than him anyway. He deserved someone he didn't run away, full of flimsy excuses of wanting to be out of the shitty town that made him. When the truth was he was scared. He was terrified about how much he loved him. Because what was he going to do when the day came when Steve realized he could do better?

Eddie wouldn't have been able to surivie it. So he left instead. Like the coward he was. He left so he could be miserable and famous but at least Steve could finally find someone who deserved him.

So it really was all for the best. That's what he tells himself, because if he doesn't he'd go insane wondering about what could have been. He has himself convinced that he made the right choice. Maybe not for himself, but at least for Steve.

He doesn't realize how bullshit all of that was until Dustin lets it slip. They're doing the normal routine. Dustin visits, Eddie spoils the shit out of him, and on the last day he asks about Steve. He always tries to keep it casual. Tries to never let his desperation to know what's happening shine through. But it always does, bad enough that Dustin can't help the pity in his eyes when he tells him.

Steve's getting married.

Eddie wasn't aware just how much words could hurt him until that moment. He'd been called every bad name under the sun, a queer, a freak, a fag, you name it and it's been said. But this is the first time someone else's words make him feel like he's dying.

He wasn't invited to the wedding. Why would he be? But he still found it. Because he's a glutton for self-punishment. He hadn't seen Steve for three fucking years, and he chooses to wait till his wedding day?

But it's too late for regret, he's already here. His eyes keep scanning the room, just waiting for him to show up. He probably looks like a creep, dressed in all black and fucking sunglasses, sitting right by the door. He's basically in a fucking disguise, mostly to stop Robin from finding him and kicking his ass.

Speaking of, his eyes widen at the sight of her. She's slipping out of a door to the side, quickly wiping at her eyes before joining the crowd of people. His eyes drift back to the door.

Eddie's on his feet before he knows what he's doing. It's stupid, maybe the stupidest thing he's ever done, but where Robin is, Steve is sure to follow.

And he's right. It leads to a small dressing room. And there he is. Just like that Eddie's in front of the only man he'll ever love. Or at least, behind him. They were alone, and Steve hadn't even noticed him yet, too busy adjusting his hair in the mirror.

He still has time to leave. Besides, he didn't come here to ruin everything. He didn't, really.

But he doesn't turn around. Instead, Eddie locks the door behind him. He takes off his stupid sunglasses and clears his throat to speak, but is immediately rendered speechless when Steve turns to look at him.

He's just as gorgeous as he remembered.

His eyes widened at the sight of him, mouth opening and closing like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Why would he? Eddie never reached out. He ignored the times that Steve did, always too ashamed of himself to face his own mistakes.

Eddie always expected Steve to lash out when he saw him, if he saw him. Lord knows he deserved it. But he doesn't. He just looks...sad. And those basset hound eyes are almost enough to bring Eddie to tears himself.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, voice quiet.

Eddie hadn't actually prepared anything to say. His plan was to watch the love of his life marry someone else than drink himself into a stupor at his hotel. He...he hadn't expected to end up here. But there are a million things he wants to say to him.

I'm here to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough and I made it your problem. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Ever. There hasn't been a day that goes by when I don't regret leaving. And I thought, maybe, just maybe if I saw you move on with my own eyes I could let you go.

But none of that is what comes out of his mouth.

"Run away with me."

If Steve didn't look shocked to see him before he sure did now, "W-What?"

"Run away with me," He repeats. Because it's what he wants. It's what he needs. It's been three years of hell without him and Eddie can't do it anymore. He can't.

He hates that he's the cause of the tears springing up in Steve's eyes, but he can't take it back. He won't.

Steve looks away, eyes trained on the floor, "You can't do this to me Eddie. You can't."

But he is.

Eddie's made his choice. He was a fool to think he was capable of coming here without trying to steal him away. Of course this is where he'd end up. And he'll say anything to get him back. He doesn't care that he's too late. He doesn't care that this whole thing makes him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.

He'll be underhanded, he'll be dirty, he'll do anything to get Steve to leave with him, he doesn't fucking care. Because Steve Harrington is not going to get married today.

He waltzes right up to him. He grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. He probably looks crazy, he feels crazy, "You don't love her like you love me."

He's never met her. He doesn't need to. The way Steve freezes up is all he needs to know that he's right.

He doesn't deny it, but he deflects, "Why are you doing this? You left me. Did you forget that part? I didn't end it. You did! A-And now what? We're just going to ride off into the sunset together? Like you weren't the one to just cut me out of your life-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupts. He feels calm, eerily so as he speaks, "We're riding off into the sunset together. Even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved you. And I was so fucking scared of when you would realize that. I let it eat away at me. So I left. Before you could do it to me. And I was wrong."

"Stop," Steve tries to step back, but Eddie won't let him. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

He can't stop talking, even if he wanted to, "I was so wrong Steve. And I've been miserable ever since. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I'll never stop thinking about you. Even if you tell me to go to hell and get hitched I'll just wait for a divorce. Because you are the only one for me. And it took me too long to say that out loud. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Stevie."

Steve weakly tried to push him away, but his heart wasn't in it, "Please stop."

But he can't, "I love you."

Steve's eyes are closed, a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay, but his voice comes out strong, "Eddie, I-I can't do this again. I can't. If you left me again I...I just can't."

Eddie can't help but wipe a few of the tears away for him, "Angel, look at me."

He waits for Steve to open his eyes. He looks so fucking beautiful that it hurts, especially since this may really be the last time he sees him again.

But he has one more trick up his sleeve, "Tell me you're not mine and I'll leave."

"W-what?"

"Tell me you're not mine. Say the words out loud and I'll let you go."

Steve stares at him. He's mad, beyond pissed that Eddie has the audacity to throw that in his face, but he's desperate. It was the last thing he said to him, murmured through the driver's side window of the van, seconds before he drove away.

I'm still yours, even if you don't want me anymore.

Eddie had cried the entire ride there after hearing that. And then a few days after for good measure. And here he is, completely ruthless at what he's willing to pull out, "You're mine Steve. You know you're mine."

It's such a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. But it's not the whole truth, "And I'm yours. I've always been yours. Tell me that's not true and I'll leave."

But Steve can't. He can't do it, just like Eddie had known he wouldn't. But what he hadn't expected was for him to surge up and kiss him.

It feels like he fell in love all over again, just from one simple kiss. Because it felt like magic was real and it decided to take on the form of Steve Harrington's lips. It was everything he had missed. Everything he had dreamed about. Eddie tangled a hand into his hair, helpless to do anything but kiss him back, harder and deeper. He wanted to be burned into Steve's memory for all eternity. He wanted him to always remember the moment that they came back to each other.

Because that's what this is. Eddie's certain, Steve was his, and he would never let him go again.

They only stop when there is a knock at the door, a muffled question asked that they can't hear over the sounds of their own breathing. It's enough to have them pulling away from each other, but they ignore it nonetheless.

Steve searches his face, one last test. Eddie can only guess how he looks right now, probably just as desperate and terribly hopeful as he felt. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it eventually.

Steve sighs, glancing toward the back of the room, "There's a window we can probably fit through. Because I'm sure as hell not going out there."

Now it's Eddie's turn to cry. Despite all of his confidence, the certainty that they were supposed to be together, he hadn't really expected it to work. But here they were, giggling with each other as they scurried out of a first-floor window, making a run for Eddie's car.

Eddie can't help but kiss him again before they get in, muttering against his mouth, "I love you so fucking much Stevie. I'm not going to fuck this up again. You won't regret it, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

Steve grinned into the kiss, "You better."

There was still so much to talk about. Too much. And they'll fight and they'll scream and everything will get worse before it gets better. And Eddie's so fucking grateful to get the chance.

And for the first time in three years, he feels alive again.

#steddie fic #steddie #steddie ficlet #look at me writing this instead of steddie wip i havent looked at for two weeks #idk where this came from #eddie munson #steve harrington #i do not condone this behavior but god damn is it romantic #if it helps it was a pretty shammy marriage to appease his family but that poor nonexistent bride is in for a bad time #but hey it's better than him cheating on you after you're married right?#wedding #ruined #whoops #its a bad idea to run away with your ex you havent seen in years but damn they did it anyway #angst is in there #breakup #they get back together in a very dramatic fashion

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acapelladitty · 1 month

Text

friction and harmony

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Lucy Maclean

Summary: One cruel incident pushes Lucy over the edge and a fight with Cooper turns physical in a way which changes their dynamic forever. (4.7k words)

(warnings for: blood, gun violence, first time sex, biting, rough sex, heavy petting, unprotected sex, arguments, verbal cruelty, desperation, physical violence, mutual orgasm, mild foreplay)

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Link to AO3

Keeping close to the fire as the approaching night stole the heat from the air, Lucy couldn't stop her racing, disjointed thoughts from playing the earlier days events with Cooper in a grim and repeating loop. With every passing moment, she could feel the annoyance in her chest roiling anew and her mouth set into a tight line as she recalled her role in the violence.

The handkerchief coming away from his lips stained with fresh blood, the old man who had introduced himself as Mr. Daniels glared at it distastefully as he recovered from his coughing fit and returned the filthy rag to his inner pocket.

"Nasty bit of business." Mr. Daniels muttered, mostly to himself, before glancing back at the pair who stood with their caps in hand. "But anyway, what was my offer again? Oh, yeah. Twenty caps, three vials."

"Seems reasonable."

Casting Lucy a withering look at her audible enthusiasm, Cooper clearly disagreed with her naive assessment.

"I could make your fine ass walk to the next town over and get me five vials for half that." He was quick to counter, crossing his arms over his chest as Cooper split his attention between Lucy and the obvious tremble of the old mans limbs as he struggled to bring his lit cigarette to his lips. "So let's re-assess the situation here."

Mr. Daniels shrugged with a nasty cough as he cleared his throat of phlegm. "Can't do any better than that. Got shit to buy and shit to pay off."

His face sunken and pallid, the old man was clearly unwell. Most likely dying, if the bloodied handkerchief was anything to go by, and Lucy felt a swell of pity in her heart as she listened to Cooper continue to argue his point without care or mercy.

"Ain't asking for the deal of the century here, but I ain't some dumbass vault dweller-"

"Hey!" Lucy interjected defensively.

"- who don't know how these here exchanges work. I'll give you fifteen for three. Final offer."

Unable to rise from his chair due to whatever ailments were afflicting him, Mr Daniels pointed at a rusted metal box which sat off to the side of his chair as he caught Lucy's eye and nodded to accept the ghouls spoken offer.

"Go look in there, Miss. You'll find what you and your ghoul friend need."

Nodding with a wide smile, Lucy diligently walked over and opened the container. Inside lay a handful of vials of the lurid yellow drug which she had quickly come to discover Cooper needed to delay the inevitable and prevent himself from turning feral. What made up the odd compound, she had no idea, but it was almost the same consistency as rad-away if it were developed in a completely off colour.

Cooper's golden rule of being side-tracked by bullshit was a beast of his own making as ensuring a constant supply of this stuff had proven to be their biggest time waste as they traversed the wastelands. Not only that, but a low supply often left Cooper in a hell of a mood as his already short temper existed on a knife edge to make him snappy and irritable.

Returning with the goods, Lucy handed them off to Cooper who accepted with a grunt. Something strange played on his leathered features and it gave Lucy pause as she glanced quickly between him and Mr Daniels but she shook it off as they concluded their deal.

Cooper spoke first, with Lucy following closely.

"Thank you, Mr. Daniels."

"Yeah, thank you! We really appreciat-"

Lucy's words cut off into a horrified gasp as the back of Mr Daniels head exploded in a shower of blood; viscera and brain quick to decorate the wooden boards behind his chair.

"No! Cooper!"

Unapologetic, Cooper had the grace to at least shrug out an explanation as he held her eye.

"Like putting down a sick dog, darlin'. Better to go out while the going's good and before the scavengers come to take you piece by piece."

Stalking over to the container which Lucy had taken the chem from, Cooper ignored her horrified spluttering as he tipped the entire box into one of his larger pockets - the clink of the vials a welcome distraction from the stare he could feel burning into the back of his skull.

"You killed him! And now you're," Lucy paused, so aghast that words failed her for a moment, "robbing him too? He didn't eve- we're better than this."

Fixing the edge of his hat so it would stay more comfortably atop his skull, Cooper refuted her point with a single tilt of his head.

"No, we ain't."

So, Lucy had fallen into an old, tried and tested punishment which she found worked wonders on Norm and others who had annoyed her down in the vault.

The silent treatment.

Since returning to their makeshift camp, she had not uttered a single word to her companion, making a point of huffing and looking away every time he caught her eye. Thus far, nothing had come of it but as dinner finished cooking on the fire, Cooper finally addressed her directly.

"As much as I'm enjoying the peace and quiet, sweetie, are you gonna sit there with that big pouting lip tripping you up all night or are you gonna pull your weight around here and plate up? Ass jerky is off the menu for little girls who won't do their chores."

In no mood for his nasty teasing, Lucy shot him a sour look as she remained stubbornly quiet.

"Don't eat then." Cooper shrugged. "See if I give a shit. I've got food, silence, and enough chem to blow your tits clean off. Life is good for a ghoul today."

Unable to let that slide and ignoring the heat of hearing him refer - crudely mind you - to her chest, Lucy dug her heels into the ground as she remained seated on an upturned barrel.

"What you did was wrong."

"Oh, she does speak." Feigning surprise, Cooper had the gall to place one hand over his chest as the other dropped a piece of meat into his mouth - his lips chewing at it noisily.

"What you did was wrong." Lucy repeated. "That old man wasn't a threat to us and you killed him."

"Bleeding heart, vaultie." Cooper barely refrained from an obvious eye-roll. "What would you rather do? Huh? Leave him for the next people to come and harvest the good parts that were left of him? I did him a kindness and you're too blind to see that."

Taking the insult in stride, Lucy was is no mood to back down on this as she met Cooper with an equal level of venom.

"You were a monster today."

"Oh, you're the monster, sweetie. Had anyone else found that old coot, they wouldn't have been half as nice. A quick shot to the head is a better death than most get out here. And I get some extra sauce outta his stash. Win/win, vaultie."

"Your chem isn't worth killing people for, Cooper." As indignant as ever, Lucy's arms came to rest on her knees as her gaze bored into his own - attempting to make him see her point though sheer willpower alone.

Chem was a sensitive subject for Cooper and his dependence on finding the drug had led him into acts which would make the average person, even in this shithole world, recoil in disgust. But without it, he would lose what little part of himself remained and, with that, his only chance to find his daughter and punish those responsible for fucking the world up as much as it was.

"We need those meds." Cooper growled, frustration at her utter refusal to see the necessity of his actions making his temper flair. "Unless you fancy your chances at taking me on when the last of my marbles goes and I become a real monster. See me as I am now, vaultie, and imagine how my turning would go. It ain't gonna be pretty."

"I'll do what you need me t-"

"Is that right? Will you put a bullet between my eyes without flinching? Carve me up like a fresh piece of meat with my own damn knife? Cut off my head like you did that other sorry scientist fucker?"

With nothing to say to that as a queasiness enters her features, Lucy fell back on her earlier argument.

"You didn't have to kill him."

Her comment on his need for chem having kicked the hornets nest of his attitude, Cooper slowly stood from his seated position as he towered over her - his words low and clipped, full of a warning that she was too stupid to ignore.

"If I turn, then no amount of batting those big eyes at me is going to stop me ripping you to shreds when I'm feral. I've already got quite the taste for you, sweetie. I'll seal the deal with a smile."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to KILL him!"

Lucy also stood to her feet as she held her hands on her hips and the air between them sizzled with tension as neither proved willing to concede.

"And when I'm done," Cooper continued with fire in his tone, "and your little dumbass is lying there torn and lifeless with most of your insides on the outside, then I'll send the pieces that are left over to your cowardly dear old daddy. See how he likes seeing another of the women in his life in bits."

As angry as he was, an immediate regret washed over Cooper as those final snarled words snapped free. In that same moment, Lucy froze and the indignant expression which curled her features slipped into something slack and almost lifeless.

The silence hung heavy for a moment.

Striking quicker than a cobra, Lucy's hand lashed out in the space between them and Cooper felt the hot sting of her slap as it rocked his head to the side and pulled a surprised grunt from his lips.

Instinct taking over, Cooper responded in kind as he used his much larger hand to shove her chest roughly, pushing her away with enough strength to knock her flat to the ground; her ass colliding with the dusty landscape in a solid, painful sounding thud.

"Motherfucker!"

Lucy howled the word as if it were a battle cry, scrambling to her feet with a graceful sweep of her body as she flew at him like a hellcat. Her lovely face twisted in anger as she attacked, the dark locks of her hair whirled around her shoulders as she pounded her fists against his chest.

Angry, sure, but even in her anger, Lucy Maclean was no fighter and the lack of impact that her blows were making did little to settle her mood - if anything they only served to whip her into a greater frenzy.

"You piece of shit! I hate you! Hate you! Hate that stupid hat, and coat, and your shitty rules and-"

"Then fuck off and find someone else who'll put up with your shit. I don't need your help to kill your daddy."

Halting her fists, Lucy's furious gaze - even more beautiful in its passion - blazed in Cooper's face and despite the sting of his own anger, he couldn't help but fight back a smirk as the adrenaline of their argument caused heat to lance through his groin.

"You would be dead without me." Huffing her hair out of her face, Lucy hurled the words like a fist, casting up her choice to save him for the first time since the event took place.

Matching her energy, Cooper couldn't help but retort with his own act of mercy.

"And I could have left you to be used and sold as a breeding bitch to some nasty fuckers who wouldn't have treated you half as sweetly as I have. Another fair exchange between us."

"I hate you!"

"Now, why the fuck should that matte-"

Her breath hot against his face, it took Cooper a moment to register the feeling of Lucy's lips on his own as she smashed her face against his. The taste of her flooded him in an instant, a sweetness which he hadn't sampled in decades as her hands clung to the edges of his coat desperately, her closed eyes the polar opposite to his own wide-blown gaze.

Stunned into silence, Cooper allowed her to explore his mouth as his body relaxed into her own - memories of his unexpected voyeurism and accompanying decision making him slack and pliant.

If she wants this, then she can have it.

Consequences be damned.

Lucy only pulled away when he bit at her lower lip, the sharp pain bringing her to her senses as she snatched her mouth away.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her eyes blown and lips looking as plump as ever, Cooper cannot even pretend to be considering his options as he takes in her wide features - so easily wearing the arousal and anger which powers her.

Oh, fuck this.

"Plenty more where that came from, sweetheart."

Cooper snatched her close, chasing her kiss with one of his own as he pressed chapped lips to her much softer ones in a quick, filthy kiss.

Lucy pulled away first this time with a muted moan as she brought her hand up to his face and stroked her fingers along the ridges of his cheek. "Do you want to have sex with me, Cooper?"

"Fuck, darlin', don't think there's a man alive who would say no to that."

"You did."

Hissing as her chest brushed his own, Cooper disregarded the accusation in her tone.

"Things change. You should know that better than anyone."

"Let me see it." Lucy breathed with a considerate hum, her hands lowering to graze his lower stomach where his filthy shirt tucked into his pants. "I've thought about it, you know, how it might look. How it might feel in my hand, or inside me."

Momentarily concerned this woman may actually kill him with her shit, Cooper held back a groan at that confession - her lustful advances catching him off guard as he gathered himself enough to match her boldness.

"I ain't disappointed you yet."

Fumbling with his fly to pull his cock free, Cooper was quick to tug along the full length to ensure that nothing would catch in his slacks as he fucked her. But his movements were cut short by Lucy's hand knocking his own free as she wrapped her soft fingers around his cock.

"Oh, it's so," Lucy glanced down between them with a flushed grin as she sought out the right word to use, "thick. Okay dokay. I can do that. But none of the others have been this thick."

Deciding then and there they he would fuck her very brains out if it were the last thing he did, Cooper's chest puffed out slightly as he took in the praise with an elevated sense of male pride.

"Touch it then, darling. Get a good feel for it before it's hollowing you out and making you scream."

Bold as brass as her chest pressed flush against him, Lucy did as told and rolled her fingers along his length, mapping out every ridge and mark which marred the livid flesh. Imagining how good it would feel inside her, she buried her moan into his chest - a childish glee making her grin wide as she stroked him.

Wanting to keep his own hands busy, Cooper slipped his fingers in the space between them as he trailed his hands down her collarbone and into her dingy tank-top. She was warm and so fucking soft beneath his fingers that he exhaled steadily, his hands cupping her breasts as they slipped with her bra.

Unable to wait much longer as she called to him like a siren, his hands tugged her tank top and bra down until he were capable of freeing her tits; each breast as perky as the other as they quickly peaked in the warm air, the hard nipples surrounded by a lovely patch of darkened skin that made his mouth water.

Her skin was smooth, only the slightest hints of grime and filth messing up the perfect canvas and Cooper pushed her backwards enough to be able to bend and drop his head to her chest, the movement forcing her to release his cock. A fact he didn't care too much about as he latched his lips to the swell of her left tit, his mouth licking across the grimy skin as his blunted teeth pressed just enough to make her shudder as she pushed herself harshly into him.

"No biting anything off." Lucy gasped, only the slightest tinge of worry leaking through the lustful pant.

"Not making any promises, darlin'." Cooper answered, his voice strained as he fought the urge to do just that.

Just off, to the side of her right nipple, sat a single dark freckle and he was drawn to it like a moth, sucking the skin around it with a harshness which he knew would leave a livid mark.

"Damn, Cooper." Lucy hissed and he growled into her skin as her hand looped around his neck, fingernails digging into the sensitive skin at the nape.

"Watch those nails, little kitten. Ain't easy growing back skin."

"Gross."

Remaining hunched, Cooper's shoulders shuffled his leather duster free as he dropped it to the floor to provide some padding against the harsh ground. Lucy followed his lead, allowing him to pull her down as her hand returned to, and then refused to drop from, his cock - fingers circling the base of his length playfully as they fell to the floor.

Feeling painfully overdressed, Lucy quickly rolled to her back to pull her pants off - the blue fabric slipping free to a messy heap as she quickly readjusted to her previous positioning. Splaying her knees on either side of his hips, she teased the tip of his cock with her clothed sex for a moment before settling down, her ass pressing against his lower stomach as she straddled him.

Lucy sighed; her focus dropping past her exposed breasts to the prone ghoul below her, Cooper's hungry eyes splitting their attention between her face and chest as he gazed up at her.

"You sure about this, Lucy Maclean." Cooper asked, his cowboy hat balancing precariously atop his head as he reclined it back. "Cause it's cruel to tease a man like this if you wanna back out."

"Mmm-hmm." She responded with a hum. "I've been thinking about it for a while, Mr. Ghoul."

"Oh, I know that, darlin'. I caught quite the interesting little show last week in that storage unit."

Gasping at the reveal, Lucy rolled her hips atop his groin, her ass brushing his cock as her eyes widened.

"You saw me?"

"Coat in hand, sweetheart."

"So you knew."

In place of a response, Cooper offered a wolfish grin which was in equal parts guilty and unapologetic. Moving with a fluid roll, Cooper reversed their positions - placing Lucy flat against his coat as he pressed his heavy body down atop her.

"If we play this game, we play by my rules."

Exhilarated by how easy he handled her, his strength making her head swim with possibility, Lucy hooked her fingers within the band of her panties as she raised her groin enough to slip them past her ass and drop them off to the side.

"Okay dokay."

Fully exposed, Lucy reclined against the softened leather and some part of her knew that Cooper wouldn't be stripping off in a similar fashion; a fact which made disappointment bloom in her chest. The few glances of his skin she had snuck as they travelled told her that his entire frame was as vividly corroded as his face and hands and she wanted to see it.

Wanted to feel it under her fingers and her lips as she trailed herself across his body, exploring every roughened inch with a wicked curiosity.

But she understood his hesitation and she pushed the thoughts aside with ease as she gazed up into his eyes, the whites stark against the shadows of his sunken skin and she shivered at the intensity that poured from them.

His hand immediately dropping to her inner thigh, Cooper teased the skin there as he trailed his fingers up, ghosting across her slit as his digits brushed through the soft, dark curls which sat prettily to frame her cunt.

Lucy widened her thighs, encouraging him to slip his hand lower and it was an invitation he accepted with enthusiam - two fingers pressing between her slit to feel the growing moisture there, the digits coming away wet with her arousal.

"Soaked already, sweetie." Cooper teased, enjoying the flush in her cheeks. "Is that how all you valtuies react to the touch of a real man?"

"Cooper," all business as she quickly grabbed his fingers and used them to masturbate herself, her body jerking as his roughened skin grazed her throbbing clit, Lucy tightened her grip of his neck and hissed her demand, "shut up."

Amused and painfully aroused by her sheer boldness, Cooper filed away this side of her for future consideration. He may tease her, hurt her, make her feel like shit for her ignorance of how the real world worked, but here like this, he would treat her as an equal to see where the game led.

Adjusting his positioning, the lower half of Lucy's leg was quick to snake around his body as he dragged the blunted head of his cock across her glistening slit, the softness of her drawing a languid groan from Cooper's mouth as he coated himself in her slick - foreplay the furthest thing from either of their minds.

Jerking his hips forward in one fluid movement, Cooper was immediately grateful for how desensitised his skin had grown due to its various abuses as the wet heat which enveloped his cock was almost enough to have him shooting off then and there.

"Fucking hell." He swore, teeth biting into his lower lip as he buried his cock so deeply that his balls pressed against her ass. It was a violent thrust, animalistic and determined and Lucy Maclean met him with her own ferociousness as her nails carved fresh, sharp crescents into the skin of his neck.

The sudden fullness was overwhelming after so long of having nothing but her own fingers and Lucy basked in the discomfort. It was pain and pleasure mixed into one, and it only grew more intense as Cooper quickly set a brutal pace; his cock hammering in and out as his groin bumped against her ass with every thrust.

Incomprehensible sounds escaped Lucy at the sudden assault, a desperate mixture of muted pleas, whines and groans which only served to encourage Cooper to exhaust himself as he chased the pleasure which he has denied himself since her first offer to fuck him.

The cool, controlled façade long since abandoned, Cooper gnashed his teeth as he dropped his mouth to her neck - biting up her creamy skin as he craved a simple taste, his tongue licking free the developing sweat which their desperate fuck created.

Sparks of pleasure alighting across her skin as the length of his cock brushed against the nerves deep within her cunt with little effort, Lucy worked herself hard as she clenched around his cock to pull him as deep as possible. She had always liked it on the rougher side, the sensation of discomfort she found herself forced to endure eating her as Cooper's punishing pace glanced off her cervix and made her breath come in short, chaotic pants.

"Don't hold back, sweetie. Let me hear it."

A low cry broke free of Lucy's lips as she took his advice and Cooper responded by burying his full length within her in one particularly savage thrust which made her cry rise in pitch as her wide eyes met his own, her arousal blazing as her pupils dilated and lashes fluttered

Cooper snapped his hips forward and every thrust drew a fresh whimper from Lucy's lips as her orgasm quickly approached the point of no return, his cock and overwhelming presence making her writhe in place. With a slight shift in angle, the band of arousal within her shattered and pleasure rocketed through Lucy's nerves as her fingers clawed desperately at the thin fabric of Cooper's shirt.

"Cooper. Cooper, oh my go- Cooper."

Her lips wrapped around his name like a prayer, alternating between a blessing and a curse and he swallowed it up with a feral grin as he felt her come around him. Her walls clenching and fluttering, the pull of her muscles as she wordlessly dragged his cock deeper was enough to have him growling like a feral beast as he neared his own release.

Breath shuddering and balls tightening as he sank himself as deeply as he could, Cooper buried his orgasm in her neck as his teeth locked around the sensitive juncture where Lucy's neck met her shoulder. Sucking a livid mark into the skin, he felt his release flood her, mixing with her own as he cupped her left tit with his hand and squeezed roughly.

Cooper stayed there for a few seconds, enjoying the tight heat of her cunt until it was almost painful against his overstimulated cock and he pulled free with an obscenely wet noise which furrowed his brow at just how filthy it sounded. He was quick to drop his body to the side of her, most of his frame laying off the leather duster as he allowed the lady to keep the sweet spot.

"Wow." Lucy breathed out, puffing her hair from her lips as she shuffled her panties back up to cover her ass - the sticky discomfort of her soaked cunt unable to be fixed until they stumbled across some spare water to wet one of the rags which Cooper carried. "That was," she paused to seek out the best wording, "amazing. Cooper- you were- well you were great."

Ego inflating at the easy praise, Cooper's sweat-slicked body fought him every step of the way as he tried to hide how out of breath he was.

"Went easy on you this time, vaultie." He crooned, his gaze flicking to his sewn finger as he spotted the droplets of her release which had coated his fingers as he pulled his cock free. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he took a small taste and hummed with deep satisfaction as the sweet tang of her flooded his mouth. Immediately deciding he would need a better sample the next time they fucked, Cooper allowed her to respond to his teasing as he tilted his head to meet her eye.

"Holding back on me, huh?" Freshly fucked, Lucy's expression was wild yet sated, dark hair falling across her eyes as she stretched her arms overhead before tucking her chest back into her bra. "I won't break from a little bit of exercise, Mr. Ghoul. I can handle it."

Taking the opportunity, Lucy curled her body into his side, the warmth of his skin seeping into her exposed arms as she siphoned some of his heat to stave off the sudden chill. His only movement coming from his hands as he tucked his cock back away in his slacks, the length still coated in her mess, Cooper couldn't shift the shit-eating grin which stretched his lips as he raised one arm to act as a pillow for his head.

"Oh I doubt there's much you can't handle, Lucy Maclean."

Smiling at the way his accented vowels rolled over her name, Lucy tucked herself more deeply into his side and allowed herself to relax - excited for what was to come now that she'd finally satisfied her curiosity about what kind of lover her ghoul companion would be.

A damn good one, as it turned out, asshole behaviours aside

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Part 7

#this has lived rent free in my head for over a week so if it flops then im gonna self-immolate cause i need others to suffer with me #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper x lucy #cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout tv series #cooper howard x lucy maclean #ghoul x lucy #lucy x ghoul #lucy x cooper #fallout 2024 #the ghoul x lucy maclean #walton goggins #ella purnell

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sugurizz · 10 months

Text

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI)

ANNOYING HIM JUST FOR FUN ✧ Feat. Toji Fushiguro

Synopsis ── You got bored and felt like the best option would be to mess around and piss him off. Just for personal amusement.

Contents ── established relationship (Gf!reader x Bf! Toji), anger, reader badmouthing/ being a brat, degradation, insults (slut, bitch etc..), rough spanking, unprotected sex.

He was laying over your shared bed on a quaint night, scrolling through his phone waiting for you to join him in to sleep just as you were used to. But to his surprise you stepped into the room, got your pillow and exited the bedroom in the most casual manner you could display.

The annoyed groan he let out as soon as you turned your back caught your ears, and you couldn't deny how prideful you felt right at that moment, a glorious smirk threatning shape your lips upwards.

'Where tha hell ya think you're goin' ?

'Sleep'. You etched a dry reply. Not even looking him in the eyes.

'Don't know what yer on about but better come back here, missy'. He rasped with a hint of menace, his glance still locked on you.

'Oopsie. Sorry but not taking orders from you tonight, old man.'

You let out with the brattiest tone, chuckling provokingly on your way out of the bedroom. Hell the the brief moment of your inner brat celebrating its victory was cut short as you felt a calloused hand pull on your arm.

He turned you around to face him, darkened eyes stearing dead down into yours .

'Oh ya do know where this kinda attitude leads ya. Dont'cha?'

You coax your arm out of his grasp, eyes still glued to the ground. And he responds by pinning you whole against the wall, tho trying his best not to break one of your bones in the process.

'Guess I need to teach ya again. Tiny lil' brain of yours got a hard time learning the rules doesn't it, huh?'

'Fuck you.'

'Say again?'

You knew you just crossed the line. And you knew you were too deep into your silly little game now. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his face suddenly go empty, eyes stoic and expressionless. Not a sound skipped his lips later, but his hand brought your chin up, starring dead into his eyes.

Your chest swelled with all kinds of merged sensations. the fear overlapped with a witty arousal that powerfully grew down your abdomen. But screw it. You weren't backing off anyway, you chose to go toe to toe with your scary beast of a boyfriend and you were about to take the consequences like a champ.

And so you did... just in the most pathetic way possible. Each smack of his palm landing over your ass ripped into that little attitude of yours, leaving your heated face smeared with your own snot and salty tears.

You'd lie if you said you didn't like your face down against the mattress and your ass up facing his wrath. But soon enough he got you breaking down to tears, babbling all kinds of ridiculous nonsense and drooling over his lap like a braindead slut.

'Fuck! W-wait! T-Toji...s-too much, AH!' You let out the loudest moans your chocked cries could allow you to, tho your throat tensed so much from the stingy pain.

'Nah. Now arch dat back properly, fucking bitch.' His other arm slithered and wrapped around your neck in a headlock, keeping you still just so that every nerve under your skin could taste his sweet furious whacks.

'Toji! Fuck...p-please...it hurts!' Your mewly sobs filled the room, the choked hiccups and endless pleas only seemed to widen the wicked grimace on his face.

'heh. Go'head. mouth off again! Dying to hear ya.' He raised an eyebrow, challenging you to live up to the untamable brat you thought you were. Yet your drunk brain could barely discern his words at that moment.

Your eyes closed shut in defeat, almost passing out on the pain your poor asschecks endured. You could'nt quite formulate a response, but your tiny sobs had him lifting you off his lap with a false pity.

'Aww would ya look at dat. Figured out woudln't last long. Ya wanted me wrecking the shit outta yer ass from the start didn't ya?'

You gave him a dizzy glance and nodded, tongue lolling out of breath.

'Aw ya nasty thing. Could'a asked respectfully like the lil slut ya are ..but here we are again. Heh.'

He flipped you over and tossed you on the bed, pulling his sweatpants off his cock and pushing the damp fabric of your thong to the side. The sticky ropes coating your pussy lips riled him up further.

'Shit, Yer so fucking wet it's gross.' He shoved his thick middle and ring inside, giving you a few pumps before his length fully barged in, with no prior warning.

'Aghh... The fuck yer so tight for? Spanking yer ass got yer cunt this damn slimy, huh?..' he groans deep, thick fingers almost piercing into your buttcheeks as he throbbed inside.

'Toji...mhhh w-wait!' You squealed out, eyes going teary from the thick untrusion bullying through your guts.

'Oh shut it.' He spat and pressed a palm into the small of your back 'Ya knew you wanted cock, princess, nice and rough as you could have it.'

He pushed a low grunt and bottomed in. flashing you the nastiest grin before he started beating into your hole merciless...

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moonstruckme · 10 months

Note

Hey love! How are you? I hope everything is well. Could I request a fluffy fic where the reader is sick and the marauders dote all over her? I have been sick the past couple of days with high fever and I am in desperate need to be taken care of lol. It doesnt matter if it is a poly!marauders or one of the boys. You can choose whichever you are in the mood for. Thanks in advance <3

Hi sweetheart, I'm good, thanks! I'm sorry to hear you're unwell :( Soooooo relatable, basically all I do when I'm sick is fantasize about someone taking care of me. I've been dying to write a roomate!James fic so I took this in that direction, hope that's okay. Thank you for requesting and I hope you feel better soon lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James listens as the door to your room opens and closes again, his unease mounting.

You’re typically quiet, but lately you’ve been quieter than usual. Normally, James can count on at least seeing you in passing, or hearing your comings and goings signaled by the ridiculously harsh creaking of the front door. You sometimes play soft music while you cook, or have a friend over to chat in your room, or listen to a podcast while you get ready in the morning.

For the last few days, there’s been none of that. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of your bedroom door and your key still on its hook in the entryway, James might think you’d moved out.

He’s been walking past your door more often today, curious and a bit concerned at what’s keeping you confined in there. Though he knows he should be more ashamed of his eavesdropping, who else is responsible for making sure you’re okay if not your roommate? Anyway, if one day he finds you dead in your bedroom, “I was trying to mind my own business” isn’t going to make a very good excuse.

When he goes by on his fourth unnecessary trip to the kitchen that afternoon, James is stopped by the startling noise of rapid-fire sneezes from behind your closed door. He’s knocking before he can second-guess himself. “Hey, you alright in there?”

There’s a great snuffling sound, and then, “Yeah, thanks,” your voice muffled.

James hesitates. He’s not sure what your definition of “alright” might be, but he doesn’t feel right going about his day when you’ve locked yourself away and are acting so strange. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Well, that’s about as much confirmation that you’re not alright as he needs. “Are you decent?”

“I—yeah, but James—”

He cracks the door, sticking his head in just as you dive beneath the covers of your bed. The floor is covered in tissues and wrappers of some sort, dirty dishes stacked on your desk. The room actually smells like sickness, likely a result of your being in here without opening a door or window for days.

“James, please go.” Your voice is muffled by the covers, but now James can hear how congested it sounds. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“We’re roommates, love,” he says, taking a few tentative steps toward you. “Whatever you have, I’m gonna get it eventually.”

You sneeze, your form tensing under the covers. “Not if I stay in here and you stay out there,” you insist nasally.

James crouches by your bed, careful to avoid the tissues and what he now sees are cough drop wrappers. He tugs at your sheets until you release them, pulling them down to reveal your very flushed, very displeased face. James can’t help it; his eyebrows come together and his bottom lip juts out in pity, and your glare intensifies.

Of course, it’s hard to appear very intimidating when your nose is twitching as you fight off another sneeze. After a moment you give in, pressing a tissue under your nose as your shoulders hitch. James winces in sympathy.

“How long have you been like this?” he asks, taking advantage of your distraction to touch the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s not surprised to find it warm, but the intensity of the heat that meets his hand has him inhaling sharply. He presses his palm to your cheek to be sure, but it’s the same. “Merlin, you’re burning up.”

“S’not that bad,” you say, though your next sniffle undermines the claim.

James brushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, worrying his lip. “Seems pretty bad, love. I think we ought to get you to a doctor. You shouldn’t be this warm.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s finished speaking. “James, no. I want to stay here, at home.” You pull your blankets closer about your shoulders protectively. “I don’t want to sit in some freezing waiting room for hours just so they can tell me I have a cold.”

James looks at you for a moment. Your clammy forehead, your poor pinkened nose. A tiny shiver takes you, making you burrow under the blankets until just your pleading eyes are peeking out at him, and that’s what softens him to your cause. “Alright,” he sighs, “but then you need to let me take care of you.”

“But—”

“I don’t care about getting sick,” he cuts you off, leveling you with his sternest look. It’s not very well-practiced, but it does the trick, and you settle down. “You let me help, or I’ll take you to someone who will.”

You look resentful at being given an ultimatum, but nod.

“Great.” James grins, his usual affability returned. “Now when was the last time you ate?”

From that moment on, you’re on strict bed rest. James cancels his plans with Remus and Sirius for that night, both of them sending wishes that you start to feel better soon, and a call to his mum grants him access to her recipe for “get well soup.” You don’t have an appetite, but James coaxes you into eating a few spoonfuls, and the warm sensation in your throat proves too soothing to let a silly thing like appetite prevent you from finishing the bowl. James cleans your room as you eat, ignoring your protests and embarrassed groaning as he puts your tissues and wrappers into a bin, placing it beside your bed for easier access when you need it. Then, he gives you a steaming bowl of water, making you sit with a towel over your head in your own personal sauna. You complain about feeling disgusting as your sinuses empty themselves out, but admit to breathing a bit easier once it’s done. Soon you’re feeling well enough to sit up, propping yourself up on a few pillows with a full stomach and slightly clearer nasal passages while James takes your temperature with the thermometer he’d run to get from the corner store.

“Can’t believe we didn’t have one of these,” he mutters as he holds it in your ear. “One of us was bound to get ill eventually, it’s a miracle it’s taken this long.” You hum, your eyes trained on the inside of James’ forearm. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve been looking at him more today than you ever have before; he supposes he owes that to the glaze of fever he can still detect in your eyes. James would never embarrass you by mentioning it, but the warmth of your gaze is nice, and he’s glad you’re not sharp enough at the moment to notice he’s as flushed as you. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls away, the tension in his brow relaxing a bit as he reads the number. “Well, it’s not nothing, but it seems lower than earlier.” He feels at your forehead again, nodding to himself. “Yeah, definitely lower.” James leaves his hand on your face a tenth of a second too long, and your eyes raise to his.

“That’s good,” you say, giving him a small smile. He returns it heartily. “I feel better, thanks.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his smile falling away when you give a small sneeze and then wince. “You sure, love? Is your head still hurting you?”

“It’s not as bad,” you sniffle, grabbing a tissue to wipe your nose. “I really think all this is helping, James, thank you. Sorry you have to be around me when I’m so gross.”

“You’re not gross, you’re lovely,” he says dismissively, moving the box of tissues closer to you when you reach for it again. “You’re incapable of being anything but lovely.”

You actually snort, the sound loud and wet. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“I do say,” James insists. “And I’m the only one here not delirious with fever, so I think that makes mine the final opinion.”

Your cheeks get impossibly pinker, almost matching the hue of your nose, but your smile rivals James’ own. “Well, anyway, thanks for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

James doesn’t bother to pretend he’s feeling for a fever this time, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing at the skin under your eye affectionately. He thinks his heart actually turns to mush when you lean into the touch. “No thanks necessary, sweetheart. Happy to do it any time.”

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curlsincriminology · 6 months

Text

Crush on You - Steve Harrington x Reader

A/N: Hi yeah, can you tell this was written by someone with ADHD on a plane in 30 minutes? Sure! But it's the first thing I think I've published in 5 years so you're gonna have to just deal with it! Not beta'd because again, first piece in 5 years. Also if you are lactose-intolerant be careful, this shit is CHEESY!!

@boyfriendstevie

Steve was going to maim Robin.

He swore to God right then and there, looking at you with that cute little teasing twinkle in your eye as you said, "so you've got a crush on me, huh?" that he was going to find a way to permanently silence her.

Robin had to be behind this. It had taken all of 12 hours - from him spilling his guts about his debilitating infatuation as he drove her home from work, to you sauntering through the Family Video doors - to get to this moment.

His face felt hot... was he dying? Could he actually be dying? The sound of his heart pounding in his ears made him think he might still have a few more minutes of agony to go before his body mercifully took pity on him and just... y'know. Ended it.

You, on the other hand, were thriving. You were positively giddy, unsure when the last time you had felt solid ground under your feet; you had floated on a cloud (you were sure of it) over to Family Video.

Honestly, it wasn't Robin's fault.

No one in their right mind would tell her something that they didn't want you to find out. Robin had been spilling Hawkins' secrets to you since your family had moved to town.

At first, it was protective - a welcoming to the neighbourhood that helped you to know what cliques to avoid and who was sort of cool. Then it was friendly, to make you feel more at ease that you actually weren't coming off like the idiot you thought you might be.

Now? Now it was downright… messy? Fun? No, definitely mischievous.

Why else would she have rolled up on her bike to your part-time spot, parked behind the desk at the Hawkins Public Library, with that shit-eating grin on her face claiming she had some positively delightful news to tell you?

Either way you didn't care. Because it had brought you here, still in your work getup, absolutely vibrating with the sheer force it was taking you to not be the biggest tease in the world about something that was okay, maybe a little sensitive.

Steve could see the restraint on your face anyway. He knew you wanted to tease him - you were loving this.

He was still contemplating just faking an emergency and leaving. It would have been hard with the way you were leaning over the counter, gripping the side closest to him to keep you supported as you blocked him from passing you. But maybe he could manage it if he put on a good enough show.

You were biting your lip in an attempt to not freak him out with the intensity of your grin. You really just wanted him to admit it.

Standing there, with your body basically draped over the counter, your lip worried between your teeth and your eyebrow raised, Steve thought maybe it wouldn’t be the embarrassment that killed him. Maybe it would just be from how goddamn pretty you were. He had never seen anyone more enchanting than you - he thought there were probably damn hearts in his eyes as he stared at you.

And if he thought about it, maybe you hadn't heard it from Robin... he wasn't exactly subtle when it came to you. He'd definitely tripped over himself, literally, to be the one to grab you a tape you'd requested be put on hold. More than once.

There had also been the time when you had caught him watching you as you perused the shelves, completely ignoring the increasingly frustrated attempts of Mrs Jones to try and get him to check out "Trading Places" for her.

"Steeeeeeeve." The melodic singsong of your voice was enough to bring him back to the present. And to cause him to realize he had just been staring at you, gape-mouthed, for at LEAST 15 uninterrupted seconds.

Yeah, it would be the embarrassment that killed him.

"I- I uh." You watched a muscle bob in Steve's throat as he swallowed hard, nervously running his hand through his hair. "I-"

"Are you always this articulate?" You said with a bat of your eyelashes and he groaned. You were gorgeous and funny and he used to be so much better at this. There's no way he would have fumbled this conversation back in high school.

Then again, you hadn't been at his high school.

Eyes closed he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts and quickly realised that could be interpreted as "no, I am NOT always this articulate which is to say, quite accurately, sometimes I literally can't speak when you talk to me". Steve quickly opened his eyes to stammer out... something. Jesus. He was really killing it.

You remain in your position, leaning on the counter as you wait for him to formulate a coherent thought. And no, you would not give him a reprieve. Not yet.

Because you had been hiding your crush behind teasing comments and little jokes and playful nudges since the second you laid eyes on the man in front of you. Ever the charmer, he would flirt and tease and joke back with you, tit for tat. But sometimes… you could push it, and throw him off his game. You could reduce him to a blushing sputtering mess, and you loved nothing more than to watch him try to process if you were talking a big game or would really walk the walk. You wanted to see if you could get him to finally end this game of chicken.

Steve huffed and let out a tentative laugh. His hand had found its way back to the disheveled strands on his head. "I, uh, I feel like there's no way for me to get out of this."

If Steve hadn't spent the last few months studying your every goddamn facial expression, he would have missed the little narrow you did of your eyes. Almost imperceptible, but he knew you did it when you were processing something and not quite sure where that thought process was taking you. Or what you were going to do.

It seemed like only a fraction of a second before you decided.

"What if," you began, a small almost devilish smile starting to spread across your lips, "I made it easier for you?"

You leaned closer towards Steve, and watched his eyes widen ever so slightly as he looked down at your lips. He licked his own without realising it, following your movements as you leaned closer, closer... and grabbed the sticky pad and pen he'd been doodling on before you had flounced in.

His cheeks warmed and it didn't escape your notice that there was a small flush spreading across Steve's face. Or that he absolutely wanted to kiss you.

You grinned to yourself, pulling the used sticky off and pressing it onto Steve's chest. He glanced down in confusion at the piece of paper stuck in the gap of his vest, his eyes flying back up to meet yours as you beamed. If you left your fingers splayed across his chest a second or two longer than necessary, he didn’t voice any complaints.

Pulling your hand away from Steve’s chest, you curled it over the pad in your other hand, scribbling furiously, while keeping the note’s contents hidden from Steve's curious gaze.

Pleased with yourself, you flipped the pad back towards him on the counter and slid the pen along with it, bumping his hand so that he would take over their possession. His fingers curled over yours briefly, and while you would’ve liked to have kept your hand under his a little longer, you were playing a special game and you weren’t ready for it to be over just yet.

Steve was so focused on your little smirk, and the way your eyes had crinkled when he looked down at your bottom lip, he didn't even register the note when he glanced down at it.

"You can send it along with the town crier if you want." You teasingly gestured out the window to Robin who had just pulled up in front of the store. He struggled to process it all; everything that was you and the note you had slipped across the counter, and he finally looked up again at you, you were partially to the door. A wink thrown back at him as you passed Robin.

"Hey Robs. Bye Steve." He heard a muffled “hello” and “bye” from Robin’s direction in response, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would have been to capture your lips against his with you as close as you had been. If not that, Christ, he could have at least admitted he couldn’t get you out of his head with you, there, giving him the perfect opportunity.

The chime of the door wasn't enough for him to stop staring after you. In fact, he watched you walk away until he couldn't see you anymore. He was vaguely aware of Robin speaking to him as she buzzed around him, moving things he had left “in the wrong place” and “should have put away already”. He felt her push into her personal space, boundaries long forgotten if they had ever been present at all, as she tapped at his hand.

"Uuuuh Steve? What's that?" Robin asked, her large blue eyes studying him and the object partially hidden by his large palm. He blinked slowly, eyes focusing back on the room in front of him instead of the spot where he had last seen you, turning out of the parking lot.

He could be angry with Robin later he thought, flipping the pad in his hand to read what you had written. He felt the tips of his ears go red as he finally processed the words in your slightly messy scrawl, Robin yammering about something in the background.

It was cute and it was cheesy and he was almost grateful you had left so you didn’t see the big stupid grin that spread across his face. Yeah, he had a crush on you. But you had a crush on him too.

He grabbed the pen and checked “yes”, pulling the note off the pad and shoving it deep in his pocket to get it away from Robin. He could deliver it himself.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #jasmine tries to write #curlswithcreativity

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gallifreyanhotfive · 8 months

Text

My favorite quotes from each Doctor (TV only)

I'll have to do some for the EU too sometime.

One: "I don't make threats. But I do keep promises. And I promise you I shall cause you more trouble than you bargained for, if you don't return my property!"

Two (about his family): "Oh yes, I can when I want to. And that's the point really. I have to really want to, to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they....they sleep in my mind and I forget."

Three: "Courage isn't a matter of not being frightened, you know. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway."

Four: "You see, if someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you and told you that that child would grow up totally evil, to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives, could you then kill that child?"

Five: "Once a man fell asleep and dreamt he was a frog. When he woke up, he didn't know if he was a man who dreamt he was a frog, or a frog who was now dreaming he was a man."

Six: "This is a situation that requires tact and finesse. Fortunately, I am blessed with both!"

Seven (while fighting the Master): "If we fight like animals, we die like animals!"

Eight (god the fact I'm limiting this post to TV is killing me, really shot myself in the foot there): "You're tired of life but afraid of dying!"

Nine: "Just this once, everybody lives!"

Ten: "Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person."

Eleven: "Nine hundred years of time and space and I've never met someone who wasn't important."

Twelve: "This is not a war. I fought in a bigger war than you will ever know. I did worse things than you could ever imagine, and when I close my eyes....I hear more screams than anyone could ever be able to count! And do you know what you do with all that pain? Shall I tell you where you put it? You hold it tight....til it burns your hands. And you say this - no one else will ever have to live like this. No one else will ever have to feel this pain. Not on my watch."

Thirteen: "You're wrong about humans. They're not pathetic; they're magnificent. They live with their fears, doubts, guilts. They face them down every day. And they prevail. That's not weakness. That's strength. That's what humanity is."

Bonuses (crack edition) - if you recognize all of these please marry me

"Don't be lasagna."

"Yes, I made some cocoa and got engaged."

"These shoes! They fit perfectly."

"Kill yourself."

"An unintelligent enemy is far less dangerous than an intelligent one, Jamie. Just act stupid...Do you think you can manage that?"

"If I'm ever in need of advice from a psychotic potato dwarf, you'll be the first to know."

"I tolerate this century, but I don't like it."

"I always find violent exercise makes me hungry, don't you agree?"

"If I had crayons and half a can of Spam, I could build you from scratch!"

"I'm the Doctor; I'm worse than everybody's aunt!"

"The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through those doors, and believe me, they've tried."

"Self pity is all I have left!"

"Come to Daddy. I mean Mummy. I mean....I really need you right now!"

"An apple a day keeps the....Ah. No, never mind."

"It was the daisiest daisy I'd ever seen."

"Now drop your weapons or I'll kill him with this deadly jelly baby!"

"In my time, I have been threatened by experts, and I don't rate you very highly at all."

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elsaellaelys · 1 year

Text

Let me show how you don't need him - part 1

You're not the one I love anymore - part 2

summary: Y/N had enough with her non-reciprocal feelings for John B. and JJ is there for her.

pairing: JJ Maybank x fem! reader

WARNINGS: 18+, sex content

1.465 words

a/n: I'm thinking about a part 2. Let me know if you want it to happen.

--★--

The fire was cracking loud, flames warming Y/N's face, though she doesn't know if it's the warmth or the blush that appeared on her face after John B. made a compliment about her new haircut. She's glad, cause she's being dying for him to notice her a little, they are friends since long ago and the thought that he can see her as a sister makes she want to die. So when he handed her a beer - that she didn't even asked for - and said how hot she looked with layers she took seconds to come back to earth, but all she could manage to say was "Thanks". And what the fuck was "thanks"?

"So you didn't thought she was hot before?" JJ intruded as he reached the conversation, coming back to feed the fire.

"That was totally not what I meant." He turned to his friend. Y/N cursed JJ brutaly in her mind. "You know that right?" John B. reassured she.

"Yeah, of course." She answered. Again, that was everything her mouth as able to verbalize. Before she could think about anything else Kiara and Pope arrived and the talk died. Y/N almost cried, that was her chance completely ruined, clearly her fault, but she had to feel like hating JJ a bit, sending him a dead glare, he shrugged his shoulders confused.

The fact is that she wasn't much of a flirt, she never had to, in her experience with boys they were too interested to need a move from she. John B. was too absorbed in his gold hunting and his own world to pay attention to Y/N's pitiful flirt moves. Sure she knew him for a really long time, that's why it was so embarassing to do something. And plus, no pogue on pogue macking.

She always liked John as more than a friend, to the point she thought it was love - but we'll see how it wasn't - and nobody ever knowledge it, she was so good at hiding her feelings probably because she was the first one to not understand it. Is just something about him made her heart melt a little, I mean, he care for her and maybe she liked the way he fights for what he wants, she only wished he'd fight for her.

Suddenly Kiara started to show it in her place, with cheek kisses and meaningful "Be careful"'s, John B. always answered with that stupid look, like I'm so surprised, but enjoying it for sure. Y/N felt powerless, pain stuck in her throat every time their love vibe hanged in the air, she knew she couldn't run away. JJ even told him to go for it.

And then John B. kissed Kiara.

When Y/N heard it, it was her limit. That was it. Was hurtful and she got enough. She left the Chateau, banging the door, not caring about the scene and confusion she was making. She understood, he never liked her back and creating expectations was her fault, she just wanted to cry, because it was so frustrating.

JJ opened the door after her, calling her name, but she didn't answered, fastly walking towards her house. Still, he chased after her, following she to her house. Just around the corner of the street he reached for her arm, she pulled away quickly wiping the nervous tears.

"Why... You're crying?" he frowned.

"No. Just a little frustrated, I need to go home." she shortly answered.

"You're frustrated because of our talk? John B. was just saying..."

"Yes! I know what he said, I heard very well the kissing part and everything." she angrily replied, steps heavy on her porch stair, fighting the keys in the door. She hated how close was the walk between hers and John B.'s house.

"Why does that bothers you anyway?"

"It does JJ!" she blurted

"It does bothers me when I spent the whole time keeping those stupid feelings about John B. so well hided, especially because of that fucking "no pogue on pogue macking", and now he goes around "macking" Kiara!"

Annoying tears rolling down her face so she wipe them as fast as she can. "Is not fare with me."

"I always had the feeling that you liked him. I'm kinda sad it's true." he said, approaching, hands going to hold her arms lightly.

"What?" a weird different feeling was growing now in her up stomach, slightly warm to her cheeks.

"It doesn't matter, Kiara didn't kissed him back, you still have a chance."

She shocked her head, for a moment she forgot about John B. "I don't wanna be his second choice. I want him to genuinely like me like that."

"Maybe someone already likes you like that."

They just eyed each other for hard long seconds. How could she only notice his sweet face now? Pretty almost pleasing eyes straight at hers and at her mouth, and back, and closer, then they had to close cause their mouths met. She felt it so truly, hands floating to his face, soft in her palms, his was rouding her waist to bring the girl closer, he wanted that for a while and was more than glad to make she feel better.

"It's not fare..." she mumbled "... with you."

"I don't care, you're not in a court, sweetheart." he said, lips tracing down to her neck, kissing so softly, so gentle, like she was porcelain. "How 'bout we go inside and I show you how much you don't need John B., uhm?"

"Yes." she whispered, breath meeting his ear making he shiver onto his bones.

"Let me show how you don't need him."

She had no clue of how he managed to kiss her and unlock the door, but soon they were inside, mixing into each other, he pushed her to sit on him in the couch, hands falling to her hips and up to her face in the urge of deep kiss her over and over. Y/N never wanted to stop, his lips, his tongue - Oh, the thought of his tongue against hers made her clit ache - had the right taste. The thought of John B. was nothing now cause her body was begging for JJ, JJ and only JJ.

"Jay." she whimpered.

"I know, baby, I know." he reassured her as his hand cupped her pussy over her panties and shorts putting the right pressure on it, she felt too much already.

"Please." she begged impatiently unzipping his cargo shorts reaching his cock to pull it out and - what a cock - stroke it, his eyes closing for moment before making her get up to strip of her bottom clothes.

"Let me fuck you like you deserve." he laid her down "Such a fucking pretty pussy... Spread your legs, sweet girl." his talk was making she dizzy, all she could think about was how much she needed his dick inside her so the only words she could say were "Yes!" and "Please Jay." but that was everything JJ needed her to say.

Leaning over her body, rubbing himself in her core he struggled to take the shorts down his legs, anticipation burning their bodies. When his tip entered her, she gasped in pleasure, arms rounding his body to bring him closer, legs pushing his hips toward hers, both of them moaning loudly as he started a pace.

"You're so tight, taking me so good, angel."

"Fuck, Jay, go faster. You're so deep."

He had to untangle himself from her arms to look at her body, pulling her shirt up just to see those tits bouncing with each thrust, her eyes was squeezed shut so he held her chin, feeling her cunt squeeze him.

"Look at me, sweetheart. You're gonna cum?" she nodded desperately "Go on. But look at me when you do it. John B. will never make you cum like this, he lost his chance to be inside this tight beautiful pussy."

Her face twisted in pleasure, mouth hanging open but bright eyes never leaving his, JJ nearly cummed at the sight, pulling out to rub her clit as a way to help her through her orgasm. He just had to pump himself a few to cum over her, his cock twitching in his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked when his breath established a little.

"Yeah, I just can't feel my legs." she laughed.

"Guess you're not thinking about John B. anymore..."

"No, no. I just want you." she truly confessed, reaching up to feel his sweet wet lips again.

"You mean, want my cock?"

"Yeah, but not just it. I want everything." she smiled.

He fixed his body on the sofa, hands running her bare legs. "Then get over here, sit on my lap, kiss me and I'll give you everything I have."

#jj maybank #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #john b.

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johnwickb1tsch · 21 days

Text

Vino Veritas - Part VII

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. NSFW. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

VII. Everything’s On Fire And It’s Perfectly Fine

You cannot exactly claim the next few weeks go well for you.

You do a lot of cliché sunset beach walking, heavy sighing, and general wallowing in self pity.

You’re simply miserable, without him, and the feeling does not fade with time.

Usually you are pretty content with your stupid little existence. Yet now, you feel like something is genuinely missing that you need. There’s a Frank-shaped hole in your heart–and you are bleeding out.

It’s so bad that your regulars notice the change in your demeanor, when they come in to browse. They ask what’s wrong, and all you can do is shrug and make a lame excuse. It’s just not professional, to tell your customers that you're dying inside.

Anytime you try to coax yourself into just moving on, trying someone else, anything else…the thought dies a bitter death on a sword sharpened to a killing edge on the memory of that hilariously acerbic, utterly singular, wonderful grouch of a man. He hated everything, but for what felt like just a fleeting moment…he’d liked you. It certainly doesn’t help either, that he’s the only man you’ve ever felt comfortable enough with to really connect with on a carnal level. There was no putting on a show for Frank. No possibility of lying to him. He saw through everything, and that man just had your number in a way that you fear you’ll never encounter again.

You’d be a liar, if you said you didn’t consider driving up to J.D. Power with that boombox. You even looked it up on Google maps. One hour, forty-five minutes, up the coast, if traffic was good. Of course in L.A. traffic was never good.

You would have braved it anyway.

Except, it turns out you are a total coward, and you know that if he rejected you, you really would want to die.

Then, you start to think you’re actually losing your mind, when you keep thinking you see him around. On the beach, a stranger in the distance is his very doppelganger. Then in town, you think you see him around a corner. By the time you rush down the block to look, he’s gone.

You try to exorcize him by sketching his face from memory instead, at your tablet on the easel by the window that faces the ocean, up in your live-in studio above the store. It soothes you and agitates you all at once. You wonder what he thought, when he realized you slipped your possum shirt in his bag, in the airport when he wasn’t looking.

On a slow day due to rain, you decide to retreat back upstairs to your nest. The gray skies match your mood, and it won’t be the first time you’ve curled up and let the day go by, watching the relentlessly breaking waves.

Of course, just as you get settled in with a soft blanket, you hear the bell above the door downstairs chime. Usually the promise of a new customer fills you with a thrill of excitement, even after all these years, but today…you half regret not turning the OPEN sign in the window.

You check yourself briefly in the mirror, deem yourself half-passable, which is as good as it gets these days. Your hair is wild, and your eyes are sad. At least your clothes are clean, your time-worn ruffled sundress and oversized cardigan against the chill coming off the waves. You make your way down the stairs–and you almost eat shit on a cluster of colorful rocks left right in the middle of the runner. You catch yourself with a few choice words, gripping the bannister white-knuckled.

How the fuck did those get there?

Then you realize they’re similar to the ones you sell in your shop–but not exact.

You examine them, realizing that the one closest to your foot has a word engraved on it in curly slanted script: Fuck.

You look more closely at the other rocks in their now somewhat jumbled order. “I Miss Fuck You?” you read to yourself aloud, puzzled.

“You have got to be the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

Startled, you look up, scanning what you thought was an empty shop. But then you see him attempting to conceal his obscenely tall form behind an art card rack. It’s ridiculous–and your heart does its best imitation of a supernova.

Boom.

“You asshole!”

He frowns, but has no time to deliver a scathing retort, because you have leapt the remaining stairs and bound the short space to throw yourself into his arms–or more truthfully, just at him. An onlooker might have testified assault over ardor, in your frenzied tackle, as you throw your arms around his neck. He catches you with a surprised, “Oomph,” solid as a wall. You take heart in that his grip is just as desperate as yours. He still tries to get in that riposte, but you head him off again with your mouth on his.

You actually feel the tension leave his body, as you kiss him, and he kisses you, practically picking you up with his arms like iron bands around your waist.

“That’s your big gesture?” you finally demand. “Booby trapping my stairs with profane rocks?”

He honest to god growls at you, and it thrills you to your now curling toes. “It was supposed to say Fuck I miss you, but you had to ruin it.”

“Sorry I almost died?”

Then he is smiling down at you with that glitter in his dark eyes, and you are simply overcome with emotion, your fingers curling in the lapels of his jacket. “I fucking missed you too,” you admit, unable to stop yourself from tugging on him for emphasis.

He is breathing through his nose as he looks down at you, his expression somewhere between affection and constipation. It dawns on you that it’s more than a little likely he was terrified up until two seconds ago, and you soften even more for him, reaching up to stroke his beard. He leans into your hand, closing his eyes, and you know this is it for you. You are done for, and there is no further hope for your sanity.

“Come upstairs,” you say, pulling on his lapels back in the direction from whence you came. You’re not sure how it’s possible for those midnight black eyes to darken more as he looks down at you, but he follows you without a word with his hand in yours. You flip the Open sign on the door as you pass by, turning the deadbolt without breaking stride.

You have something important to do.

***

Between kisses he looks around your second-floor apartment, smiling to himself with that judgy amusement in his eyes. It’s an open space, and there’s no hiding anything really, from your brightly clothed bed to the living area with its mismatched seating draped in bright fabrics, to your little studio space by the window to the miniscule nook of the blue-painted kitchen cabinetry.

“What?” you ask, poking him in the ribs, certain he’s going to make fun of you for your hippy-dippy boho decor.

“Nothing,” he grunts, smiling against your mouth, assisting you in pushing his jacket from his shoulders. You’re tempted to throw it across the room, but you behave yourself and drape it nicely over the back of a chair.

“Let me guess. ‘It looks like Pier 1 vomited in here.’”

He snorts with laughter. “You said it, not me.”

With a feral little growl you push him to sit on your bed. He’s so tall it just puts you eye to eye, and you cannot stop yourself from crawling into his lap. He gathers you closer greedily, his big hands engulfing your backside. God how you missed this man, and the way you fit together.

“Honestly? It’s exactly what I pictured,” he tells you gently, that tenderness in his dark eyes that utterly melts your last brain cells.

“Does that mean…you’ve been thinking about me?”

He makes that strangled huff of a sound that passes for laughter, steeped with self-deprecation. “Yeah. You could say that.”

For a long few moments you just look at each other, caught up in the unlikely miracle that you’re here, together, once more.

You really had believed you would never see him again. You’d believed it to the bone, and now this feels more than a little surreal.

You consider what to do. Do you play the game, and try not to let on how absolutely bat-fuck insane you’ve been, without him? Would it be unseemly, to clamor with all your affection worn proudly on your sleeve, now that this man has dared to give you a second chance? As you look at him now, moved to the bottom of your soul that he swallowed his pride and his fear to appear at your door–you are done with games. You’re not going to hold a piece of yourself back, just in case. If this man breaks your heart again–at least you’ll know you gave it your all.

“I’ve really missed you,” you tell him again, cupping his bearded cheeks in your hands, holding him lightly.

He flinches at that, his eyes narrowing as for once, it seems like he is at a loss for a reply. He did good with the rock schtick, but saying it out loud in actual words from his mouth seems to present a problem for him. With his truth stuck on his tongue, he settles for pulling you into his embrace, burying his face in the bend of your neck with his arms wrapped tightly around you, like you might disappear if he lets go. And then his lips are on your neck, and his big hands are dragging down your ribcage to your hips, and you feel the circuits in your brain spark and melt for this man’s touch.

You’d be a liar, if you said you hadn’t put yourself to sleep more than a few times, thinking about him with your hand in your panties and his name on your lips like a prayer. Straddling his lap now with his warm palms smoothing up your thighs, underneath your skirts to cup your ass–you are a one-woman stick of dynamite ready to explode. The way he squeezes your flesh with a groan from deep in his throat–you are soaked through your panties, your empty pussy clenching to the point of pain.

Maybe it would be better, in the long run, to sit and talk this out a little bit before jumping into bed. Your libido, however, seems to find this rational suggestion from your higher brain utterly laughable.

The pure longing this man calls up from within you–it really should be illegal, and you almost wish it only had to do with the fact that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. That would be simpler. Safer, somehow. Less painful, maybe, if and when it all goes to shit. But you know it’s too late to pretend. Where your body goes with this man, your heart follows, skipping blithely off to its doom.

This is fine, you think, as he lowers you onto your back, his delicious weight pressing you down into your soft bed as he claims your mouth with his.

Everything’s on fire, and it’s perfectly fine.

“Y/n…” He sits up on his elbows, looking down at you with that haunted, totally lost expression again. You reach up to run your fingers through the silken waves of his hair. It’s obvious there’s something he wants to say, but the words keep sticking on his tongue.

“It’s ok, Frank,” you try to assure him. Like allowing him to lay on top of you in your bed isn’t indication enough of your happiness with his presence.

“I can’t say I didn’t hope this would go this way. But I’m not such a narcissist as to think it’s the only way it should have gone. I absolutely deserve a kick in the balls for the way I treated you.”

You raise an eyebrow to this, trying not to laugh at the mental image. “I hate to tell you,” you inform him, twining your leg with his. The bulge pressing against your center practically makes your mouth water. “But that’s not the plan I have for your balls.”

“Very kind of you. I’m serious though.”

“Me too. Believe it or not…” You brush his hair behind his ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You realize this might be a foreign concept to him.

“Y/n…” He closes his eyes momentarily, maybe because you are petting him, and maybe because this is all too much. “Aren’t you angry at all?”

You think on it. Really think on it, rather than give some off the cuff answer that maybe isn’t exactly true. “No,” you finally answer, and you mean it. “I’m just…relieved. I really thought I’d never see you again, and I was too chicken to go after you. I was afraid you’d say mean things to me and turn me away.” You blink back the moisture that gathers in the corners of your eyes.

“I probably would have,” he admits with a frown, more for himself than you, you’re beginning to realize. His eyes widen as he looks down at you, his long fingers stroking the hair at your temples. “I’m a fucking menace, y/n. I…if we do this, I’m going to hurt you.” The realization at saying it out loud really seems to drive it home for him. He bows his head to rest on your chest, as though ashamed of something he hasn’t even done yet. “Fuck.”

He shifts as though he means to extricate himself from you, abandon you, again. You thwart him at least for the moment by wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him back to you. You know if you have a real wrestling match, this man who is twice your size is so going to win, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll listen to you for another five seconds.

“Please don’t leave me over something that hasn’t even happened yet.” You know you sound more than a little pathetic–but you also know if he walks out the door again like this it will destroy you.

“Y/n…” He growls your name, and the sound does unmentionable things to your insides. “You’re so sweet and pretty and talented, and you deserve good things in your life.” It seems more than a little surreal to you, that this man, who sees the world exactly for what it is and pulls no punches, puts you of all people on a pedestal. That tingling electric feeling is coursing through your limbs again, to your very bones. It’s the most alive you’ve felt in a long while.

“Excellent,” you inform him brightly. “I’ll start with having you.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me. We’ll take it day by day,” you think out loud, stroking his cheek with the blade of your thumb. “And if you hurt my feelings, you’ll say you’re sorry, and I’ll forgive you. And hopefully you’ll have the same patience for me, because fuck knows I’m no picnic either.”

With a sigh that comes from the depths of his soul Frank rests his head on your chest, finally relaxing a little.

“You have so much hope,” he grumbles at your breast, like he’s annoyed about it.

“Only as of fifteen minutes ago, I assure you,” you tell him honestly, running your fingers through his hair. You can’t seem to stop yourself.

He makes that animalistic sound in the back of his throat, snarling at all the doubts and contingencies running at breakneck speed through his over-analytical brain. His next words come so quietly you almost miss them.

“I think I need you.”

A long breath made of pure relief escapes you, and you keep running your fingers through his hair. “You’ve got me.”

“That easily?”

You snort. “You call this easy?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

You don’t get a chance to make some pithy reply, because suddenly his mouth is on yours again, and your ability to produce coherent thought evaporates into a red cloud of desire. Somehow between kisses and urgent, fumbling fingers you manage to divest each other of your various garments, until the world is right again, with your bare skin against his, and his cock buried deep in your needy little cunt. Frank makes love to you while looking into your very soul, and you know that thing you told him what feels like a lifetime ago was absolutely true:

What’s it like to fall in love?

It’s like going insane.

What you didn’t know to add at the time, is how absolutely wonderful it is.

***

When you wake from your post-coital snooze you panic a little when you don’t feel him right beside you, shooting up in bed. Did he decide he’d made a mistake after all and flee the scene?

But then you realize he is sitting by the window, in the comfy chair in front of your easel with a blanket wrapped around his otherwise nude form. He is staring at your tablet, where you have sketched his face umpteen times in your miserable longing. You freeze at seeing him sitting there, certain he will make fun of you for being a lovesick little fool.

Instead, he could have pushed you over with a feather, when he just shoots you a soft smile. “You’re very good,” he says quietly, as though afraid of breaking the sacred hush of the room. You’d be a liar, if you said your best work hasn’t always been fueled by longing of some kind. If you were a happy and content individual, you’re not sure you’d create anything of merit at all.

“Thank you.”

Then he smirks at you, picking up a pencil. “I’ll draw you,” he says cheekily, making a show of measuring your angles with the instrument, putting down bold marks. “Voila. My masterpiece.”

You slide out from the covers to join him in the chair, snuggling into the warm curve of his large body behind you. When you look at what he drew you burst out in laughter, hiding in the dip of his neck. It’s a stick figure…with two emphatically drawn circles in the chest area. “Oh my god. Frank…”

“You don’t recognize my raw artistic talent?” he teases, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I see you’re not into the graphic design side of marketing at JD Power.”

He snorts at that. “What do you mean? I’m putting this on our next campaign.”

You are chuckling so deeply it hurts in your core. This man. This man brings you such joy, and you’ve been withering without him. It’s not good–but it’s true.

“Great. When they fire you, you can come shack up with me.”

It’s a relief when he snorts at your joke–you didn’t mean to invite him to move in with you within the first few hours of seeing him again, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He even holds you a little tighter, which plays unfair havoc with your insides.

“Frank?”

“Present.” From the angle of his head, you’re guessing he’s looking out the window, at the ocean. It’s a pretty killer view–if you hadn’t inherited this place from a great aunt, you never could have afforded it. You nearly die of a heart attack every year when the property tax bill comes.

“What…made you change your mind?”

He grumbles behind you. You feel it more than hear it, with his chest pressed to your back. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up just yet, but god. You need to know, as a matter of keeping your sanity.

“I realized…that every time I walked through the lobby of my office building, I was hoping to see you there, ready to terrorize us all with Peter Gabriel playing at ear-splitting volumes.”

“Oh Frank…”

“Then for a week or so I resented you for not being there, for not coming after me even though I pushed you away in no uncertain terms.”

You listen to him speak, quietly tucked under his chin. You would never guess from the level of his tone, but you can feel the thundering of his heart against your back, feel it in the slight way his grip tightens on you. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but your eyes blur with tears, that wonderfully uncomfortable electric feeling coursing all the way to your fingertips.

“Then I realized that was pretty fucked up, to be mad at you for respecting my wishes, even though it clearly hurt you to do so. So…here I am. I am…a goddamn mess, y/n. I’m a grouchy old man, and I still don’t understand why you seem to like me, but if you do…?”

You think on how those three little words, here I am, actually involved this no-nonsense man remembering that ridiculous little conversation you’d had ages ago, dreaming up the scheme with the rocks, hunting them down or ordering them custom engraved online, and driving all this way in the rain having no idea if you would actually be happy to see him or if you would tell him to go to hell.

You don’t think it’s just blind optimism, that makes you think he’s not half as broken as he thinks he is. You’re smart enough not to call him sensitive to his face, but he has just been kicked one too many times by people near him who go through life with a lot less thought about how their actions affect those around them. He’s hardened himself as a matter of survival–and that you understand all too well.

“I do like you, Frank. I really, really, do.” You punctuate each word with a kiss until your mouth is pressed to his, and the grumble of his approval vibrates on a wavelength through your body, to the depths of your very soul.

“And,” he adds with a wry note, just in case things were getting too sappy, “Your rat shirt is starting to smell more like me than you now. It needs a recharge.”

This does make you giggle. “What have you been doing with my possum shirt, Frank?”

“You probably don’t want to know,” he answers with that rogue glitter in his dark eyes that curls your toes.

You scoff–and wonder how many grains of truth are hiding in the lie. The thought of Frank snuggling your shirt at night wishing it was you…you really might melt into a puddle.

“I still have your black t-shirt under my pillow,” you confess in the spirit of solidarity.

He looks down at you with a raised brow, amused. “I wondered where that went. You sneaky little thief.” Suddenly he is standing with you in his arms, carrying you towards the bed again. He drops you on the foot of the bed, and you have no zero time to regroup before he is on you, pressing open mouthed kisses to the insides of your thighs, up to eat your pussy like he means to devour you.

“Fuck!” you gasp, writhing against him holding you down as he wrecks you with his tongue. “How are you even better at that than I remember?”

He withdraws with a long hard lick that makes you see stars. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he admits, manhandling you to the edge of the bed with those big hands on your hips, plunging inside you with a groan that lifts every little hair on your body, fucking into you like you belong to him.

And maybe, you do.

“And how is this sweet little snatch even tighter than what I remember?” he pants back, trembling with the effort to keep his thrusts slow and deep, like he knows exactly what you need to climb that shining peak–you are running up that mountain with his beautiful manhood teeming inside you.

“I’ve been working out…” you answer with a laugh that comes out half moan, so happy you could die as he lowers his weight down on you, cupping your head in his hands, his long fingers in your hair.

“I’m not sure I know what that means…” he answers, losing himself with his eyes closed as he bottoms out against your cervix, catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss that makes you clench and pulse around him.

“Just say thank you.” You don’t know how you have the courage to tease this man, while he’s inside you. But you feel like your heart is made of pure sunshine in that moment, and nothing bad can touch either of you.

“I’m trying to,” he chuckles, having just as much fun trading pithy remarks during this intimate moment as you, his thumb sneaking between you to rub your aching button to the rhythm of his body moving inside yours. You’re going to cum, to know it in your bones, but even if you weren’t this perfect handful of seconds of connection with Frank would be purest bliss. Those three dangerous words are dancing on the tip of your tongue, and you bite yourself until you taste blood to keep them in.

I love you.

You’ll tell him soon enough.

The pleasure of your orgasm blindsides you like a truck t-boning you in a four-way stop–it’s as mental as it is physical, this absolute, all consuming rapture for having this man in your arms again, in your body, in your life, if you dare to believe it.

Frank is not far behind you, moaning into the bend of your neck as he cums, filling you to the brim with his hips locked against yours. In the aftermath he sighs something softly into your hair, something utterly inaudible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and your heavy breathing.

It’s something short though. Something three syllables.

“What?” you whisper, sweeping the hair from his face with a trembling hand.

“Nothing,” he answers, pulling back with a sleepy smile. He shifts to the side and drags over the comforter, wrapping you up in his arms and the cloud-soft blanket. “You know,” he says sleepily, “I was miserable for so long, I think I forgot what happiness feels like. So thanks for scaring the shit out of me, I guess.”

“Anytime,” you chortle, snuggled under his chin.

Everything is on fire…and maybe it will be perfectly fine.

----

Epilogue coming soon...

#destination wedding #destination wedding movie #frank x you #frank x reader #frank x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #Frank MrNiceCaboose 🤣#it never gets old #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #destination wedding fic #destination wedding frank x you #vino veritas destination wedding fic

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deathbystero · 6 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 - 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐞 (𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟒) - 𝟏𝟗 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 - 𝟏𝟖𝟕𝟓

Born in the late 1800s, David grew up as an only child on a small impoverished farm alongside his mother after his father abandoned the family. He left no note, no warning of his departure, just the mere scraps of his belongings and a small amount of money. David was forced to take on the work of caretaker in his place and was robbed of his childhood in favour of work. His mother had been unwell for quite some time, spending most of her days lying in bed or sleeping. At times she would look so frail, so helpless, that her son’s heart would ache with sadness and pity. He spent each day trying his best to keep her fed, to keep her alive, but the faraway, dazed look in her eyes never wavered and David began to wonder if he was doing enough. He tried everything in his power to get her well once again, spending what little money they had remaining on medicine, but every effort seemed futile, as though all attempts to help his own mother were vain.

Even so, she continued to decline steadily and one day, when her breathing began to fail completely, David finally gave up hope.

He packed his meagre belongings and decided to leave home without saying goodbye, before any other family members caught wind of his plight. His heart was heavy with regret as he boarded the first train that would take him as far from home as possible. He didn’t know where he was going or what he would do with himself once there, only that it felt necessary that he escape and never turn back.

The journey passed by in a blur and when the train finally came to a stop, David was disoriented and lost amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Guilt ate at him as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, but even as he scanned the station platform, seeking out some sign of familiarity despite never before leaving the comfort of the farm, he was met with nothing more than the bustling crowd of strangers and confusion.

He wandered about the streets aimless until nightfall approached and exhaustion crept it’s way into every muscle. As the sky darkened, David found himself sitting in an alley far from the crowds, back against the rough brick of a rundown warehouse, his face buried in his knees as he tried desperately to stem the flow of tears that brimmed his eyes. His thoughts turned back towards home, where his mother lay ,and he wondered if anybody had found her yet. Had anybody even bothered to look? Would they ever?

The air turned cold and clouds covered the dim glow of the moon. David shivered, trying to conserve whatever warmth he could find against the biting evening air, shrinking into his threadbare coat, one that had belonged to his father before he left. The garment did little to protect him from the harsh winds and he wondered how many nights he’d survive if this continued.

After some hours, the stars began to peek through the smatterings of dark clouds overhead. It was just beginning to sprinkle, and the raindrops glistened against the pavement like diamond dust. The droplets fell gently onto David’s head as he stared upwards at the endless expanse of stars above, his mind filled with thoughts, both of life and of death. Was he dying right now? Was this it for him? He was just going to die here and there might be someone who cared. If he lived through today, he'd have nothing. He was alone on the road to nowhere. Nobody cared. No one was coming for him. Nobody would miss him. Nobody loved him.

Footsteps sounded on the wet pavement somewhere up the alleyway ahead and David froze, unsure whether he should stay seated or get up and flee. Did it matter? He had nothing for them to take but the sparse belongings in his bag and his coat. He would freeze to death out here anyway so he might as well get it over with.

He slowly unfolded from his crouched position and lifted his head toward the source of the sound, watching as a figure advanced toward him, their movements slow and measured. David tensed as the figure drew closer, prepared to run if need be, however the person slowed and then stopped a few paces from where he sat.

“Are you okay?” Asked a voice, smooth and rich like honey, but laced with an edge that made David shiver. He nodded stiffly.

“Fine.” His words came out more of a croak and he cleared his throat in an attempt to rid himself of the huskiness. “I’m fine, I don’t know…” He trailed off, his mind reeling with a thousand questions and concerns that he couldn't begin to process.

The stranger stepped forwards and crouched in front of him, studying him for a long moment. The pale moonlight reflected off of his glasses and cast dancing shadows around him as he surveyed the boy in front of him closely. David shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, a strong metallic smell permeating the air about him.

Eventually the stranger offered his hand, smiling slightly in greeting. “I’m Max.” David stared blankly for several moments before reaching out tentatively to shake his hand.

“David,” he managed to force out in reply, still confused, before pausing. “Do… Do you live in this neighbourhood?” The man laughed.

“No,” Max responded in amusement, “Not exactly.”

“Oh…” A silence hung between them, the sound of a gentle breeze whistling through the empty streets filling the gap. David could feel his skin prickle with nervousness, something about the man’s presence unnerved him. Max's smile was warm and inviting, yet David was unsure whether it was genuine or just an attempt to put him at ease before he robbed him of his possessions and murdered him. It was rather difficult to say.

“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” The question broke David's musings and prompted him to finally turn his attention to the man in front of him.

“Walking.” He replied shortly.

Max titled his head quizzically, “Nobody goes out walking at such a late hour unless they're on their way somewhere, but even then nobody would dare come out into the city at this time of night unless something was wrong. Especially not down this alleyway.”

David looked back at the ground and shrugged, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Well... It's just nice to walk,” he said quietly.

Max made a noise in his throat, something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “You've got no home, do you David?” He asked gently.

David shook his head, feeling a slight sting of betrayal in his chest. “No, I guess not…” He admitted, cheeks burning in shame. He was too tired to lie to this stranger. “I'm not really sure what I’m doing. My family's gone and I don’t have much to my name anymore.” He paused, staring intently at a crack in the road that he could have sworn hadn't been there earlier, fingers fiddling with the frayed ends of his shirt sleeve nervously. “I'm just wandering.” The statement hung awkwardly in the night air.

Max hummed thoughtfully, “Come with me.” He stated suddenly, rising from his kneeling position and turning to look directly at David. “I think I might have something that can help you. Get you out of this mess.” He paused and the blonde frowned.

“What?” He questioned.

Max smiled warmly, offering David a hand to help him to his feet. “Follow me.” He mused. “Follow and join me, David.”

That same night, David became a member of Max's little family.

A/N - I wasn't originally going to post this but it was just sitting in my drive and it felt wasteful to not do anything with it. Obviously, this post and the others to come are my own take on each one of the boy's lives before they were turned and are in no way canon, they are simply silly little stories I came up with over the christmas break.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys imagine #david the lost boys #the lost boys headcanon #this is my own take so please don't come for me

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runespoor7 · 6 months

Note

Jiang Cheng brings back WWX to LP after his resurrection because LWJ wasn't around

Five Fun Facts About The Fic I Might Write About It, This Is A Slowburn(?) Version, For Other Versions Ask Again:

WWX insists that he's not himself far past the point of it being sensible. The thing is, it's not the first time JC decided some random demonic cultivator was WWX and dragged him home to demande apologies and play house? Last time was over half a decade ago, so not everyone in the sect knows, but those who remember are pretty wary about it, especially because of what it means about JC's mental state. Is Sect Leader getting worse again? They're also very wary of WWX, some of them openly contemptuous - WWX has the feeling that if it weren't for JC's protection he would be dead - and some of them almost pitying. I think he overhears them talk and that's how he pieces together the backstory, and also learns that the demonic cultivator whom JC is convinced are WWX and that he treats as such don't... end well. Sect Leader takes the "betrayal" badly.

WWX realizes that YMJ doesn't have a second in command. the sect has a person who performs the tasks associated with the job, but JC doesn't have a "second-in-command", never did. it just stuck that way. it sure doesn't mean anything. probably. how weird of JC though.

the Ghost General intrudes on Lotus Pier. There's a fight, JC tries to take down WN, WWX orders WN away from JC, JC freaks out. WWX keeps swearing up and down he's not WWX, honest!!! but... on the other hand... the Ghost General recognizes him as its his master... this is what breaks JC's hopes, finally, and also WWX's heart. You get JC crying as he asks WWX "are you really not him?" and WWX doing the equivalent of Cyrano's "No, my sweet love, I never loved you!" but for who he is, with less clear-cut emotional consequences than in the play (this is because WWX is not dying and thus more invested in keeping the lie up and JC is way less certain that WWX cares about him than Roxane did about Cyrano). They sort of compromise on the understanding that "MXY" is kinda-sorta WWX, but without most of WWX's memories. (WWX is telling himself that's not what he wanted but in fact he's much more comfortable/confident with himself and being in YMJ afterwards!) this is probably when WWX realizes that while his room may not exist anymore, his things are in JC's room.

JC struggles with this WWX being an innocent lamb who has no memory of doing anything wrong in his life ever. He should've expected it. How convenient. But, y'know, a WWX is a WWX, and this also extremely conveniently lets JC off the hook of this pesky "remember how he orphaned your nephew?" thing! It's mostly JC's own guilt now. Mostly. He's not going to do anything against WWX even if it wasn't anyway. Also it's. terrifying. Because WWX has no memory of him, but WWX is around, and also there isn't anyone to judge JC for wanting-- ANYWAY.

They end up having to leave Lotus Pier and catch up with the main plot when WWX gets a spider sense that WN is in trouble. There are no words to explain how little JC likes 1)that the Ghost General is still a thing, 2)that the Ghost General is still a thing when it comes to WWX, 3)that WWX is planning on leaving LP to help WN, so he comes with. WWX tries to convince him not to, but surprises himself by accepting JC's help when JC insists in a clipped tone. The trouble that WN got in also involves JL being in danger. This is my fic so it would turn out that WN tried to protect JL before WWX and JC caught up. Possibly JL and WN have been getting in plot-relevant shenanigans offscreen for a while now, and there's definitely a fic there, what with WN thinking A-Yuan is dead and projecting on JL and JL getting conflicted feelings about the person/thing that killed his father, but that's not the focus in this story. At some point - because by now he's pretty certain JC will not either kill him or reject him - WWX "admits" that his memory has been returning. Not all of it, but enough. If we're all very very lucky JL has been in sufficient danger that JC can lose his head a little and kiss WWX for saving JL's life, or something along these lines. If we're not lucky that part happens beyond the scope of these five things.

#chengxian #this might in fact be all pre-slash ☠️#ask answered

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istadris · 7 months

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You told me you had Antasma headcanons. Go. Nuts. And tell me EVERYTHING!!!

Okay first of all : I think Antasma's potential is severely unexplored.

Granted, that's on me for expecting too much depth from a Mario villain. Still, it annoyed me that Antasma has such a cool design and concept...yet I was frustrated with how his comical "screeching bat with a Dracula accent" side was really played up despite being the main antagonist...

And then the betrayal. Again, it's a Mario game but even then, was I the only one frustrated by how obvious it was that Bowser wasn't going to share the victory with anyone ? It's presented as a surprise, but come on Antasma, even if Bowser was willing to share, you weren't exactly subtle with your manipulation.

Yet I love this character so much!! Onirism and nightmares are such fascinating themes and Antasma vs the Pi'ilo explores them, but it could have been pushed even further!!

In general I think Antasma's flaws are M&L: Dream Team's general flaws : amazing concept, but the story takes a lot of efforts to get to the interesting part and some of the jokes could have replaced by more interesting moments.

And it's interesting how it sometimes feels like Antasma and Dreambert have some kind of history; at least that's how I see all the moments where Dreambert tries to appeal to Antasma, and even how he pities him once Bowser turns on him...or maybe that's just me reading too much into details.

ANYWAY regarding Luigi and Antasma, I also have a LOT to tell about them :

I find it very, very interesting that even before any of the characters had any hints of Antasma & Dreambert, Luigi dreamed about him...and not just Antasma in his bat form, but in his most powerful one ! And it's never explained ! how did it happen ?? Did Antasma feel Luigi's "attunement" to the Dream World and try to exploit it ? Does Luigi has divination abilities ? We just don't know !

Another little frustration I have is that Antasma never pays any attention to Luigi...even if he's the key to fight him back. Without Luigi, Mario wouldn't be able to get to the Dream World, nor would he have enough power to fight the bat king. (Technically, Luigi is also responsible for Antasma's return, since he opened the first portal by taking a nap in the Pi'ilo castle...)

And it drives me insane ! But it makes sense at the same time, everyone always overlooks Luigi, except Mario, who knows his brother is the strongest ally he can count on! So while Mario isn't suprised one iota by it, their ennemies are always baffled by the brother's victories relying on Luigi.

But for real, all Bowser and Antasma had to do was to kidnap Luigi while he was asleep and either wake him up and force him to stay awak (and trap Mario in the Dream World), or keep him asleep but trigger effects by exposing him to elements that would slow Mario down...or just end his game. Like, the solution was there, guys.

Antasma's boss battle is my fave of the entire game because not only does his musical theme SLAP, he also has interesting moves...and he can PUT SOMEONE TO SLEEP IN THE DREAM WORLD!!! And he can CAPTURE DREAMY LUIGI !!!! Something that is NEVER done before this moment !! He changes the rules ! He rewrites the game !! How to not like it !!

But for an eventual AU where Antasma comes back, I have two very different ideas of how it could go :

Option A : the Redemption Road.

The battle left Antasma so weakened he barely survives in the Dream World. He doesn't even have enough energy to be angry anymore. He's just wasting away, waiting for his end. He doesn't recognize this part of the Dream World and doesn't care. He's dying, and for the first time, he's scared.

But what he doesn't know is that he's not trapped in the typical Dream World...but in Luigi's dreams. Luigi who has had strange dreams for weeks where he feels there's something with him whenever he dreams, but can't find it.

As his sleep gets worse and worse, he ends up returning to Pi'ilo Island, hoping to get help from Dreambert. Except the prince is currently away or too busy, which bums him a bit. Thankfully one of the Pi'ilo accepts to help him, or maybe he just finds a petrified one who hasn't been freed yet and despite not having Mario with him, he decides to try and rescue them by himself.

...Oh waaaaait. What if that petrified Pi'ilo is actually Antasma ?

So Luigi travels in the Dream World...and finds Antasma, curled on himself, pathetic and near death. A miserable little bat.

Who immediately jumps on his face and tries to feed off him.

What ensues is Luigi first panicking, but being too kind to just abandon someone in need, (not to mention he DOESN'T want Antasma stuck in his dreams anymore!!!) and being forced to cooperate with the bat king to free him.

Of course it's a long and frustrating road...and yet for once, Antasma isn't threatened or confronted or betrayed. He's lonely, and not used to kindness, and he ends up slowly warming up to this fool.

Option B : The Smart Villain Road

Antasma manages to survive and goes into hiding, and plots his revenge...but this time, he's learned his lesson.

He's been right before about Bowser being a more useful ally because of his power. But he realizes that not only Bowser is too egoistical to ally with, but he isn't even the most powerful.

Instead, he focuses on Luigi. Luigi and his almost unique connection to the Dream World. Luigi who's been the powersource of Mario through the whole adventure. Luigi whose subconscious is able to change the layout of the Dream World. Luigi who can summon a huge version of himself, almost as powerful as the Dream Stone Spirit...

Luigi who, Antasma is convinced, is the key to his success.

So his plan this time is to get his hands on the younger Mario Bros. By hiring goons, or sneaking into Luigi's dreams, or kidnapping him himself, or allying with other villains again (*cough* King Boo and/or Dimention *cough*), he will do anything to finally taste this incredible, untapped power, and seize it for himself.

#super mario bros #mario & luigi dream team #antasma #mario & luigi #miscellaneous mario madness #Ista writes #answers #...damnit now I actually want to turn this into a fic

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good-beanswrites · 4 months

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I’m thinking about the angst of the restraints headcanon again. There’s the two with the least physically violent crimes, and they rank relatively low in strength. There’s the child who was violent but had to be really crafty about it; she’s the weakest of all of them. And the most dangerous of the guilty prisoners cannot be restrained.

This makes me so emotional!!! All three are the smallest of their circles. Two of them are extremely ordinary people who have never experienced/expressed physical violence before. One hadn't even fathomed the idea of someone dying until they actually did. And yet, they're subjected to the type of restraints you'd expect to see on someone who is uncontrollably violent. The fact that prisoners who committed very gruesome murders can walk free (including Mikoto) just adds insult to injury. I still couldn't everything into words, but here's a Mahiru-centric drabble featuring the same thoughts. It takes place after T1 closes but before the attacks.

“Where are our rights?”

Fuuta’s shout caused Mahiru to wince. She perched on her bedding, watching the two prisoners she’d invited to her cell. It hadn’t been the fun kind of invitation, though. Back in school, she always wanted to have parties and dates back at her place. Moving to the city, she imagined what it would be like to make university friends and take them back home with her to talk, eat, and have fun.

Sitting in her dim gray cell with Fuuta and Amane, all of them held fast by complex sets of restraints, was not what she’d had in mind.

Amane knelt in the corner. Her arms were crossed, as if pouting, though the opposite was true. A moment ago her eyes had lowered in prayer, but it was difficult to find any peace of mind now. Fuuta snapped and shouted as he paced the length of the cell bars. They were unlocked, but like the others, he didn’t feel like being out in front of everyone. He’d give his uniform a violent jerk every now and then, but it didn’t do any good. Between his strides and growls, he made Mahiru think of those poor wild animals they keep at the circus.

“Take it easy, Fuuta.” She mustered up a smile. “Come rest with us.”

“I can’t believe you two. You’re just gonna sit here and take it? I didn’t do a fucking thing! They’re acting like I’m some big danger to society,” he yanked his arms again, to no avail. “All I did was type some things onto a screen. I’m not gonna go around stabbing anyone or anything. And you, you didn’t hurt anyone either!”

He nodded his head to Mahiru. If her arms weren’t already folded over her chest, she would have hugged herself anyway.

“Well… I did hurt him in the end… I broke his heart badly enough that… I mean, he…”

Fuuta made a disgusted sound. “That’s all stupid romance stuff. I’m saying, you never stabbed him. Never strangled him. Never poisoned his food, or –”

“Oh god, no! How horrible…”

“Exactly! From what we’ve heard, it sounds like Haruka killed someone with his bare hands. I think Muu had a knife or something. Shidou had a whole arsenal of grisly doctor tools. Kotoko has openly talked about how she beat that guy to death. Why are they allowed to walk free while we’re tied down like wild animals?”

Mahiru was glad she hadn’t mentioned the circus.

“And Amane! It’s not like she did anything violent, and here she is!”

“That is not true.”

Both paused as Amane spoke up for the first time.

“Eh?”

“While I disagree with my verdict, the restraints make sense.” The others still stared blankly. As matter-of-fact as always, she continued. “I killed with my own hands. I used the amount of force I was instructed to. Just as the sinner fears the wrath of heaven, I can understand how the godless warden would fear my justice.”

Fuuta’s passion wavered, but Mahiru could feel her heart ache for the girl. “Oh Amane… I had no idea. To be pushed to the point of violence at your age…”

“I am not to be pitied. As I said, I am dangerous, and proud to be. I am doing god’s work. All heroes must be dangerous.”

Fuuta grunted, but said nothing. Mahiru gave her a gentle smile. “It’s not pity. Even if you were dangerous, it’s horrible to restrain someone like you. You’ve already had to brave so much, as the smallest of the bunch.”

She looked between the two. A sad laugh escaped her. “Now that I think of it, I guess we’re all the smallest here, hm? Aside from maybe Muu, we don’t have much height or strength on the others…”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Fuuta cried. “The fuck do they think we’re going to do?” Mahiru was just glad he’d focused on that rather than the fact she’d just called him weak.

Voices raised in conversation down the hallway. Mikoto’s laugh echoed faintly into the cell.

It warmed Mahiru to hear. Things had been so hard on him here. Though it had been frightening to hear him shouting at the restraints til his voice was raw – well, it wasn’t him shouting – it had been a relief when he appeared free and relaxed the following day. He seemed sheepish that he wasn’t able to help the others, having no memory of his escape. Mahiru just kept telling him how happy she was for him.

Fuuta didn’t share in the sentiment. “Meanwhile, Mikoto gets to stroll around free, and he beat the shit out of Es! He could snap and kill any one of us here, and they don’t even give a damn. But ooohhh, god forbid the guy who’s never been violent a day in his life is allowed to use his own two hands!”

The harshness of his voice wasn’t doing his argument many favors. Still, his words were beginning to get through to Mahiru.

She’d worked so hard to be a model citizen. She was supposed to have a perfect life. She could cook, clean, sew, and take care of children. She did herself up every day; she was never a slob or a slut. She was generous to everyone she met. She showered the world around her in love. Wasn’t it unfair that her hands were tied like some common criminal? What was all that effort for – being patient when people upset her, being kind even when she disagreed with someone, all of that – if she was going to end up in the same place as someone who had stabbed another out of sheer malice?

Amane didn’t seem to be whirling with the same doubts. She closed her eyes once more. “It is simply a trial from heaven. We may be small, but all of us have an internal strength that will carry us through the ordeal.”

“I don’t think it’s any sort of religious thing, but you’re right,” Fuuta puffed his chest out. “Trials like this only make people stronger!”

“Do you think so?” Mahiru wasn’t sure if she was asking either of them or just musing to herself. It was a nice thought. This was all part of destiny, something meant to be that would make her stronger in the end.

But she wasn’t so sure she believed in destiny anymore. It hadn’t quite worked out the first time.

“Hell yeah!” Fuuta must have assumed she was in fact asking him. He gave a wide, toothy grin. “It’s not like we can get any weaker, right? The warden better watch out next trial – they’ve got a big storm coming!”

#milgram #mahiru shiina #fuuta kajiyama #amane momose #and then we had a big storm coming 😔#thank you for the ask pal!!! im not sure if the drabble is what you had in mind but it was really fun to write lol #mahiru canonically being really tiny and trying to be the model nonconfrontational woman...#fuuta being so small and specifically saying hes never been violent toward anyone and never wanted anyone to get physically hurt...#(and something about fuuta being the closest to the average milgram fan)#amane being very small and weak and only killed a specific person for a very predictable reason...#and theyre all treated like wild animals that could snap at any time :((#meanwhile the actually unpredictable one who Did lash out and hurt someone just strolls around free #not that its anyones fault hes free -- it wasnt on purpose -- but still it makes the situation that much more painful #it makes me crazy!! i thought putting it into action would help communicate my ideas but idk #drabbles

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