#THE BLUE SHIRT WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF HIS WARDROBE

[attapullman]

Bob From Pi Kapp | Robert "Bob" Floyd

While this can be enjoyed on it's own, the recommended reading on the syllabus for this class is Bob From Stats before proceeding.

Summary: First he's late to chapter, and now Bob is late to your Stats final. You saved him a seat. But should you also save one for his hobby horse?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY as always, f!reader, no use of y/n, smuttttttt, goofy frat behavior, the other Daggers do make a brief appearance

A Note From Mo: Happy Start of the School Year! It wouldn't feel quite like autumn without checking in with our favourite frat boy-turned-cowboy and what shenanigans the Pi Kapps are getting up to. Can anyone guess what unforgettable moment in TV history inspired this second part to stats!Bob?

It’s unfair how good he looks laying between your thighs.

Sandy hair disheveled, glasses fogged at the rim. Chest heaving beneath thin cotton, catching his breath after a marathon make out session in your cramped dorm bed. There’s still three sections left in the review material, but Bob’s only now coming up for air as an alarm sounds and he reluctantly sits up.

Your hands reach out trying to pull him back into your embrace. He playfully swats them away, unwillingly having to extricate himself. Your fingers catch in the hem of his shirt, twisting in the fabric.

“I have to go!” He jovially laughs, returning your grabby hand back as he wiggles into his sweatshirt. “I have chapter - a non-negotiable, remember?” 

While you sarcastically cross your arms and hmph at him, he knows you aren’t actually angry. Disappointed, sure, but how could you be mad at those big round blue puppy eyes? Especially after he’s been attached to your lips since he swung by after lecture hours ago. You’ve started having a Pavlovian response every time he asks if you ‘want to study’.

Sitting up, you take your study buddy in, straightening his clothes before having to mad dash to Greek Row. He’s all long limbs and sturdy shoulders, the thick tendons of his fingers showing off the strength that he exhibits every time you get him into bed. That trucker hat is already back on his head and your eyes wander to his freshly shaven jaw and neck.

“Bob, you can’t go to chapter like that.”

He stops in his tracks and his brows crease in confusion, glasses highlighting his cornflower eyes. “It’s not a formal thing, jeans are fine. But I gotta go, there’s a fine if I’m late and I have perfect attendance.”

You shake your head and walk him the three steps over to the wardrobe in your tiny dorm, the full-length mirror on the side barely lit by the florescent bulb. Bob fills out the entire view, the mirror barely tall enough to capture above his torso, but just enough for you to gently hook your fingers into the soft heather collar of his sweatshirt. You don’t even have to tug for him to see the glaring concern.

Mottled along the left side of his neck are three mouth-shaped mauve bruises. They’ve only just begun to bloom, but against his creamy skin they stand out like stop signs. You didn’t think you had been sucking so hard. Or bitten so deep.

“I think they look kind of pretty.” He’s teasing, but you’re mortified.

Bob kisses your heated cheek, gathering his hood around his neck. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll hunch my shoulders and no one will be the wiser.” At this point he’s used to his roommates pointing out the signs of affection you leave on him every week.

You’re still hot from embarrassment twenty minutes later, curled on your little dorm bed reading through your organic chemistry textbook. Though part of that may be from the lingering kiss he gave you before promising to text you after. It’s not your fault he’s perfectly adorable and fuckable - you’re only human. 

Beside you, a small ping interrupts your (distracted) studying. It’s a text from Bob, slightly earlier than planned.

BF: They may have noticed 😬

His Pi Kapp brothers not only noticed the arrangement of love bites along his neck - you were lying to yourself if you thought they were in any way subtle -  and the house of frat boys were now taking turns lining up to get photos with Love Bite Bob for posterity. Plus he was a minute late to chapter. 

You’re still giggling to yourself when you turn off the light for the night. The photo of your boyfriend’s cherry red face matching your indecent markings, a swarm of Pi Kapp sweatshirts and backwards baseball caps in the background, and mischievous grins filling every corner of your dreams.

Students mill past you, filing into the atrium of the lecture hall with a buzz of misery and despair around them. Finals Week. Every backpack in sight is heavy with textbooks and over a dozen weeks worth of notes. Your last neon highlighter died last night from overuse. 

Amongst the throng of students also dreading your Stats final, you have yet to see that vintage trucker hat Bob has been sporting since September. It seems off-brand that he wouldn’t be early, broad back already hunched over in that cramped seat with his calculator and an apprehensive smile. 

The last few weeks of sitting next to each other have been exquisite - elbows bumping in his new desk next to yours, thighs brushing in those impossibly close seats. It’s a part of your routine at this point. Bob still lends you a pencil, but you barely take any notes once the toe of his sneaker runs along your shin and suddenly you two are playing footsie like teenagers.

It’s been a horny remaining nine weeks of Stats. It was lucky that Bob was as studious as he was or you’d have gotten nothing done, stealing kisses between flashcards. Not to mention the glorious hour he spent with his head buried between your thighs while you memorized formulas, swearing he’d only leave your clit alone after you could recite them backwards.

And yet he was missing from your very last class together. The last chance to borrow a pencil and brush elbows for an hour like foreplay. Where was he?

Wanting to get yourself settled, you resign to entering the lecture hall and sitting beside Anna in one of the front rows. She gives you a sympathetic look at your dejected grimace. Your dorm room has been a testament to many a study night as of late, the two of you swapping sticky notes and notes like candy. The hall titters with students chatting as you not-so-subtly keep checking the door for latecomers, the seconds ticking down before those heavy doors shut.

The seat beside you is still empty when the teaching assistant shuts the oak doors, signaling the exam’s start.

Your professor stands at the front of the lecture hall holding a tall stack of booklets and gives a wicked grin. “Who’s ready to see what they actually learned about probability this semester?”

A collective groan sounds out and he sinisterly laughs before starting up the ancient projector. The bustle of pens and paper disappear when the loud thunk of the lecture hall doors slam open, bouncing off the sturdy brick walls and turning every head at the latecomer.

Giggles, snorts, and neighing all blend together as the cavernous lecture hall bustles with noise. Your head whips around to catch the commotion, eyes widening in surprise. 

Five men in auxiliary blue Pi Kapp sweatshirts and their own hobby horses (featuring a rather familiar Appaloosa) come galloping down the stairs, heading straight for the center stage. Standing front and center in beat up cowhide boots, a well-used felt Stetson, and tight jeans is none other than your favorite frat cowboy, blue-eyed Bob from Stats. 

His posse of Greek lettered faux cowboys stand around him, jostling each other’s shoulders and pretending to calm their steeds. Your professor patiently waits behind the pulpit, curious how this will play out with the exam he’s supposed to be proctoring. You’re gripping your seat in confusion and anticipation.

Once the raucous laughter has died down, Pi Kapp President Jake Seresin makes a show of steadying his hobby horse once more while three fellow cowboys spread out across the room, casually milling through the aisles with their wooden horses clanging between their jean-clad knees. Looking more like a lamb at slaughter all by himself, Bob calmly holds his own, knuckles rolling over the handles of his ‘horse’. Jake grins at his Pi Kapp brother before turning to his captive audience.

“Howdy, pard’ners!” The blonde’s voice booms in the cavernous hall. Various greetings yell out from all over the rows, Anna throwing in her own Howdy.

This is crazy. Anna looks at you for answers, but you have none. Whatever is going on, Pi Kappa Phi Ranch has invaded your Stats final. 

Their president makes a show of quieting the room, hand hauntingly on his hip. “So, we’ve been traveling all over this here Wild West looking for something.”

Reuben Fitch, a Pi Kapp brother and one of Bob’s roommates, stands tall at the top of the steps and calls back to him, “And what is that something, Brother Seresin?”

“Glad you asked. We’re looking for a cowgirl.”

The name catches your attention. Your blood runs cold and by default your eyes flash to Bob, hoping to find the answers in those wide, truthful ultramarine eyes. But he continues to stare boldly ahead, letting his brothers put on their show. 

Giddily clomping around with the stick of his black mare clacking on the stairs, Mickey Garcia raucously yells out, “So let’s look for her!”

Suddenly the four men are traipsing around the spacious room pretending to ride their horses, the hundreds of seats no match for their speed as they run up and down aisles, zipping through seats and over student’s knees. 

“Not here!”

“Not here!”

“Not here!”

Heat creeps along your skin as you feel Jake’s right hand man, Javy Machado, lock in on you, the squeak of his sneakers and thwack of his horse against the ground alerting his arrival. Your eyes bore into the side of Bob’s head - spectacles still facing forward - as every classmate watches the frat boy descend. Javy stops only feet from where you’re clutching the edge of your desk.

“This one here looks like she could be a real ol’ cowgirl!” Javy’s horrible Western accent and shit eating grin are begging to be smacked off his face. He turns toward the familiar Stetson and puts both hands around his mouth as he hollers. “Hey Floyd, found a cowgirl for you!”

That sweet face finally turns to you. Adrenaline floods your nervous system as every pair of eyes in the hall watches his boots clack up the stairs and past the seats until he’s standing in the row before yours, craning over the wooden chair with delicately pink cheeks. From this angle, those cerulean eyes are level with yours. And boy, are they nervous.

His voice is wobbly, but the script is practiced. “Howdy, little lady. Hiding in plain sight, weren’t ya?”

You both know you’ve sat in the same spot since that first day he lent you a pencil.

“Didn’t realize you needed an entire fraternity to find your study buddy.” Your hand waves at the four faux cowboys standing at the end of your row, looking entirely too pleased with themselves. Despite the fact that you’re as timid as him under the stares of your fellow students, you can’t help but be a little sassy and theatrical after the production you just witnessed.

That soft grin comes out to play, always amused by your fire. “I do when I have a question for you.”

The smirk on your face wipes clean. A question? There’s a flutter in the air as students turn to each other, anxious to know what quiet little Bob Floyd has been keeping to himself. Even your professor is leant forward on his elbow patches, brow quirked in interest.

You swallow slowly before responding, barely over a whisper, “What do you want to know?”

Time and space stop as he holds your gaze. So soft and affectionate, as if you are the stars in his night sky. The same hazy look he gave you in that hall closet weeks ago that made you unable to ever look back. He licks his lips, warm hand sliding over yours on the peeling wooden desktop. His eyes are so impossibly open. 

“Will you do the honor of being my date to the Pi Kappa Phi spring formal, cowgirl?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Relief tingles through your extremities as your brain starts up again. The pounding of your heart backs up your smart response.

“Only if you let me borrow your boots for dancing.”

Your response settles, then suddenly all around you there’s whoops and hollers. To your left, four hobby horses are whipped into the air and twirled like batons. Mickey yells out, “Yeehaw!”

And yet all you can focus on is the wide grin that’s stretched out Bob’s face, his lean body still bent over the row before yours. You know the same smile is etched on your own jaw as your fingers intertwine. He’s so utterly ridiculous and self-assured. The perfect pairing of endearing. You can’t get enough.

You really wish everyone wasn’t watching so you could kiss him.

“Alright, alright, settle down. We do have a final to get to, if Mr. Floyd would like to take his seat.”

Handing off his trusty steed to his cowboy brothers, Bob takes the hint and makes his way around the row toward you, long legs effortlessly vaulting the nailed-in desks. He stops at the knobby wooden seat next to you and gestures, as if to ask Is this free? The corners of your mouth can’t help but upturn once more as you nod, letting your handsome Bob from Pi Kapp slip into the seat and knock his knee against yours.

You lean in, letting your lips brush against the lobe of his ear. “Not that I wasn’t entertained, but what was all that?”

He shoots you the most blinding grin, the sides of his drowningly blue eyes crinkling behind perfectly straight wire frames.

“My punishment for being late to chapter - they got to choose how I asked you to spring formal.”

Your jaw slackens as your eyes trail over to where his brethren are slinking out the heavy hall doors with their wooden steeds over their shoulders. Those cruel bastards. Your hand reaches out to stroke Bob’s still pinkened cheeks, fingers resting along his jaw to imitate soothing his wounded ego.

“One last yeehaw for Cowboy Bob for the semester, huh?” He guffaws out a laugh and kisses your cheek. 

The stack of little blue booklets makes their way over again and Bob grabs one before passing your way. His eyes are glued to you, unable to stop his affectionate attention after putting himself out on the line like that. You open your mouth to say something, but stop when the significance of it hits you. It’s the last time. 

The words form out of muscle memory. “Can I borrow a pencil?”

The air between you is sickeningly sweet as he reaches down and grabs two from his bag, handing you the sharper point. You give him a gooey smile as your fingers brush. Test nerves and bittersweet affection trickle down your spine. Who would have thought your hardest class all semester would bring such joy?

For the next ninety minutes your eyes stay strictly on your own booklet, but you can’t help but feel the radiant energy off the guy in a cowboy hat and fraternity sweatshirt and his knee that somehow keeps knocking yours.

“Slow down, cowgirl! I need a minute to recover,” Bob breathily begs from beneath you, where you’re still grinding your hips into his, one arm braced on his chest and the other against your peeling dorm wall. That damn cowboy hat is somewhere on the floor and his skin has evolved into an exerted red from the two orgasms he’s already stolen from you. 

You playfully roll your eyes and mutter something about bucking broncos before stilling, still so full of him. You delicately press a kiss to his sweaty cheek, your bare chest against his, timpani heartbeats synchronized. 

“While I have you,” you start, and he booms out a laugh, his cock still nestled tightly inside you. “How were you going to ask me to spring formal before?”

He’s so cute when he plays dumb. “Before what?”

“Before the guys made you publicly humiliate yourself to the point you can never take a Stats class again.”

Bob presses his lips together, warm hand smoothing over your hips as he weighs his response. Which is hard when you smell like sex and sweat and that fragrance he can’t quite identify the undertones of but has him dizzy. It’s a miracle he can pull himself away from you sometimes.

“You can’t just be happy knowing that I can never show my face in that building again?”

You reach down to the floor and pick up the worn Stetson, plopping it on your own head. You give him a stern look, stabbing your finger into his chest. He has a hard time being intimidated when his vision is centered on your breasts pressed together so deliciously. “Tell me or I’m sending you to cowboy jail.”

He raises his neck and pecks the tops of your breasts, just how he knows you like. With a joking frown, you grab him by the nape of his neck and stare him down. 

“Fine, fine,” Bob laughs deep from his chest. He looks so joyous, the whiff of sex and amorousness coloring him so beautifully. “If you really want to know.”

As you settle in to listen, the reality is that it doesn’t really matter his original plan. It’s that he even wants to go with you, that he’s just as far gone as you’ve been the last fifteen weeks. That one silly pencil would start something worth delaying a Stats final fifteen minutes and continue to another semester.

You just hope one day he’ll get you your own hobby horse.

Massive shoutout to all the Internet besties who keep the stats!Bob brainrot fresh - wouldn't get anything done without all you amazing peeps!

taglist: @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jaguarthecat @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @midnightmagpiemama @m3ndacious @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @smoothdogsgirl @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @spidervman @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @tastefulregularthots @theamuz @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap five/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Whiskey & Cigars

summary: Trying to keep your promise to thank Steve for fixing your sink, you aren’t expecting him to have company when you show up at his front gate after work.

wc: 5k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters but none really for this one. Drinking, cigar smoking, flirting and wait.. is that an almost kiss?? 🤭

authors note: the idea of this chapter is what sparked the entire series, i’ve been so excited to write this one and share it with you. I hope you guys love it, we’re half way through so you know what that means? (things actually start happening lol) But Leighanne, I want to date this older!eddie too! Guess what? You can in @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky 🧡

🌇 <- chapter four ->chapter six

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

The box of tacos is warm in your hands, the package of cannoli’s you snagged on your way home from work moving around in your backpack as you step off the train. You take a shaky breath as you make your way towards your block, your feet taking you to his house. The nerves of him not expecting you has you talking yourself off the ledge the entire walk. Does he really like fish tacos? Was he just trying to be nice? What if he’s busy? What if he’s not even home?

Your overthinking is silenced the moment you hit your street, the string lights of his front porch catch in your sight, while the sounds of Eddie Money echo down the steps filling the quiet and hitting your ears. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You slow your pace when you get close enough to smell the smoke of his cigar, and hear the deep baritone of his full belly laugh. Another voice chimes in, it’s raspier, darker, and definitely not a woman’s. The unruly pang of jealousy that hits your gut subsides when you reach your apartment and he finally comes into view. 

His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, the gray and honey highlights sticking out at the ends like he’s spent the whole night running those big hands through it. His cheeks are flushed with what looks like the end of a fun day with friends, a half smoked cigar tucked between his teeth that show themselves in a wide grin for the man sitting on his porch steps next to him. 

He leans on the top step by his elbows,your thighs pressing together when the silver chain that’s usually hidden under his shirt swings over the soft blue tee that fits tight across chest when he laughs again. His cream jeans are loose fitting, stretching at his thighs with dark gray house slippers on his feet.

The guy next to him is not who you’d expect to find, he looks around the same age, gray streaks shining under the porch light in the dark curls that rest tied back in a loose low hanging bun. His chocolate eyes shine with excitement while ring and tattoo covered hands gesture wildly with his story, the ash at the end of his cigar is dangerously close to falling onto the wood of the porch. 

Steve picks up the ashtray between the two glasses of a dark liquor like it’s second nature, lifting it up for his friend, making you notice the silver chain that dangles around his wrist when he takes the offering. He’s dressed in all black, a contrast to the light colors of Steve’s wardrobe with a pressed Judas Priest band tee that sits half tucked into the tops of his Chino shorts that fall right above his knee. Black socks and black slides covering his feet. 

Bandit’s the first to notice you from his spot on the giant rug by the front door when you reach the gate. His ears perk as he sits up, paws dropping one after the other in excitement. A high pitch whine escapes him, catching Steve’s attention. Steve plucks the cigar from his mouth, looking at Bandit before finally following the dog’s line of sight to you. There was no getting out of this now.

You feel like you won some kind of prize at the size of Steve’s smile, lopsided with rosy cheeks pushed up and eyes crinkling in the corners. He sets his cigar down, ignoring the confused look his friend is giving him before sitting up, running a hand through his hair making it stand on end even more.

“She’s alive!” He does his best impression of Dr. Frankenstein sticking his arms out in front of him and you see the man next to him grimace before taking a puff and turning his attention on to you. Curious dark eyes watch Steve and Bandit go to meet you at the gate. 

“Yes, I somehow survived.” You can’t help but giggle, making the man on the porch shoot his eyebrows up. All the nerve you worked up on the way here is gone when your neighbor gets close enough for you to see the stubble you like so much is back. 

“I hope the Au Cheval burger helped with that,” he breaths with a smirk, his eyes landing on the to go box that’s threatening to succumb to the iron grip in your hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

Too caught up in how his eyes seem to light up when he asks, it takes you a minute to register that he’s talking about the fish tacos in your hand. 

“Oh!! - Sorry - Yes, I didn’t know you had company tonight. I have cannolis in my bag too, I don’t wanna interrupt anything - I can, I can just leave them with you.” Bandit jumps onto the gate while you stutter your words, suddenly feeling sixteen again. The heat of his friend's stare makes you shuffle around in place. 

Steve opens his mouth ready to protest but he’s interrupted before he gets a chance to say anything. 

“Harrington! You gonna invite the pretty girl up for a drink or what?”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you busy yourself with scratching Bandit behind the ear with a free hand. Steve lets out a breath through his nose before pinching the bridge of it. His ears turning red like the cherries on the ends of the cannoli’s in your bag.

“Sorry about my friend.” He takes another beat before he looks up, his eyes smoldering against yours, hope hidden inside the golden specks. “I was going to actually ask you if you’d like to come up for a drink, I promise he’s harmless. He met his wife shopping at Trader Joe’s.” 

You can’t hold back your laugh, not used to seeing this playful side of him- the sipper on his porch loosening up his nerves. His grin spreads wide at your reaction, and he’s opening the gate before you can even respond because he already knows the answer.

“I happen to love Trader Joe’s, Steve.” Narrowing your eyes at him as you make your way in. He takes the opportunity to grab the to-go box from your hands just in time for you to accept Bandit’s big paws.

“Bandit!” He hisses, stealing your move with a roll of his eyes at his rambunctious dog, closing the gate while you keep him distracted. “I’m more of a Whole Foods guy myself.”

“Of course you are,” you scoff with a condescending laugh, desperately trying not to meet the eyes of the man who’s been watching you this whole time.

“What? I like having a beer when I shop. Does that make me an asshole or something?” He tries to defend himself but he only validates you more and he knows it  by the way you smirk at him.

He tries to act offended and not think about how cute it is that you haven’t stopped petting Bandit the whole walk to his front steps.

“Yes, it does make you an asshole.” The raspy voice from before interjects and you can’t hide from his curiosity when you both stop at his feet. A warm smile meets your eyes when you finally look at him, a puff of smoke exhaling through his pierced nose.

Steve’s eye roll is real this time.

“This is Eddie,” he sighs, introducing you to the mystery man, “We’ve been friends since high school, and he’s just jealous he moved to New York where you can’t shop and drink at the same time.”

Your cheeks push up at his banter, all the color in his face seems brighter tonight, his shoulders are relaxed. No longer constricted by a tight work shirt, or weighed down by loneliness - Steve is happy.

“Best friends since high school,” Eddie corrects him, setting his cigar down before opening his hands out for Bandit who abandoned you the second you reached him. 

“Hi,” you greet, trying not to sound as awkward as you feel, silently begging for your next joke to land, “I’m Steve’s neighbor and I hate to break it to you, also Bandit’s new best friend.” 

Eddie snorts, eyes twinkling when he catches the way your lips twitch when you hear Steve’s laugh next to you. 

“I was wondering who he was ditching me for.” He narrows his gaze a little as he sizes Steve up who seems to be focusing on anything but his friend before choosing to set his sights on you. 

“I’m going to go put these in the kitchen for now, I’ll grab you a glass. Thank you for this honey, you really didn’t need to.” His hand reaches out to squeeze your arm like after your hug the other morning. Goosebumps form under his palm when his thumb rubs the softness of your skin gently before letting go.

“It’s the least I could do, seriously you’ve been such a help.” You take your backpack off, the breeze making your shirt unstick from your back. “Don’t forget the cannoli’s.”

“Cannoli’s too? My, my Stevie boy. You must be quite the neighbor,” his friend chimes in, picking up his cigar again.

“Eddie,” Steve scolds just like he did Bandit, grabbing the pastries from you with an apologetic look that you wave off.

He stomps as he makes his way up the steps shooting his friend a glare. Eddie just smirks around the tobacco, leaning back with a raise of his eyebrows and a shrug.

The front door sounds heavy when it closes behind Steve, leaving the two of you alone. It’s quiet, but not for long, the gears in his head moving as he chooses his words before speaking. The crickets chirping in the grass and the hum of distant cars make your palms sweat.

“He must’ve done something real nice to get his favorite dessert hand delivered by his pretty next door neighbor.”

Your gaze narrows, a small smirk forming.

“I never told you I lived next door.” 

Eddie’s smooth facade cracks for a minute when he realizes he gave away what he already knew about you, letting you know that Steve must talk about you.

“He fixed my sink if you must know,” you tease, letting him off the hook, unable to hold back the smile that takes over your face when he barks out a loud laugh.

“How neighborly of him,” he hums around his cigar. 

The door’s opening before the conversation can go any further, a glass of the same dark liquor they’re drinking in Steve’s hand. Eddie catches the slight wrinkle of your nose at it chuckling to himself when you shoot him a look.

“I see he didn’t scare you off yet. That’s great.” Steve grins at the tattooed man, who smiles back with his teeth.

“I don’t know if I could have lasted much longer,” you sigh with fake annoyance, taking the glass from Steve, your stomach going off like fireworks on the fourth of july when your fingers brush, “Thank god you’re back.” 

The laugh you earn has you wanting to make him do it again.

“Why don’t you take a drink of that delicious Johnny Walker Blue label I saw you eyeing when he brought it out?” Eddie raises his glass in a silent challenge. 

Steve’s brows furrow when he looks at his friend in confusion, missing the way you’re scolding Eddie from behind his back.

“I would love to, Eddie, I thought you’d never ask.” You raise your glass in acceptance, already regretting it.

Placing the crystal to your glossed lip, the smell of it makes your gut churn with flashes of your hangover from the other night. You watch the realization wash over Steve’s face when the liquor hits your tongue in the smallest of sips.

“Oh no, that’s probably not what you want to drink after the other night, huh?” His concern dares to crumble when his lips twitch as he tries not to smile. 

“Don’t look at me like that Steve!” Your own smile breaks through your embarrassment.

“Jesus Harrington, go take your girl to get something she’ll actually enjoy,” Eddie laughs, extending his hand out to take your glass, his own now empty. 

Your girl. That’s my girl. Your face and neck heat up at the words again.

“It’s fine! This is okay, I can drink it!” You try to drive your point home by taking another sip, just for your face to give you away again.

“Honey,” Steve chuckles, taking the glass from your hands. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. I’m not offended.”

“I’m sorry, I just usually like something a little bit sweeter.” Your confession makes Steve’s cheeks dust pink.

“Of course you do.”

Steve’s place is intimidating, the overhead pendant light is dim in the entryway. Big paintings hang in perfect placements along his light gray walls that lead up a dark stained wooden staircase. The music is quieter inside, the smell of cedar hitting your nose from the crackling candle he has lit in the living room that you only get a small glimpse of as he leads you to his kitchen. 

He flips the middle switch and only one set of overhead lights turn on, matching the mood of the rest of the house. You take in the giant island in the middle of the kitchen, white paneling that matches the tile below your feet, topped with black marble that sparkles under the low light. The box of cannolis you brought him sits in the middle.

He stops at the stainless steel fridge, shoulder blades moving under his shirt when he opens the door with a firm grip that makes his forearm flex, the harsh brightness polluting the dark. You both squint for a second letting your eyes adjust, the low hum of the fridge drowns out the way your heart beats in your chest.

You were in his house. 

“Are you a margarita girl?” His voice is too smooth to startle you, something softer in it like this. His eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin in an attempt to soothe your obvious nerves. 

“Depends on if you have salt for the rim.” Letting your back hit the countertop, you fake difficulty. 

“Do I have salt for the rim? Please, honey. I’m not in my twenties.” He scoffs shutting the fridge with a lime and what looks like a homemade mixer in hand. The way you giggle for him makes him feel like he might have a chance.

“I’m just making sure is all.” You roll your eyes at him for the first time tonight, and he can’t wait to make you do it again. Addicted to the smile you try to hide, always giving yourself away.

“I’ll make it how you like it.” 

He walks towards you, invading your space just enough to smell the way the spice of his cologne mixes with the expensive whiskey on his breath. Freeing his hands of the ingredients he looks down the hard line of his nose, glazed mossy eyes taking in your face like he’s never got to really do it like this before. The wild stray falls loose and your hand twitches at your side wanting to be the one to brush it away from his forehead this time.

“I promise.”

The twitch of his lips lets you know he heard your breath catch before walking away to get you a glass and a shaker. You exhale through your nose when you get a break from his attention. Was this happening? Was he flirting?

There’s a salt rimmed glass filled with crushed ice in his hands when he comes back, too lost in your own head you didn’t even hear him do all of that. He gets close enough for his shoulder to brush against yours, the tension making your fingertips buzz. 

“This okay?” He asks, eyes avoiding yours as he slices the lime. “You zoned out a little, just want to make sure you feel comfortable is all.”

“Yeah - I - sorry, I kinda get lost in my own head sometimes.” You turn your body to face him, admiring the sharp lines of his jaw from the side, the hint of crows feet from years of laughter that meet the tip of his high cheek bone, the never ending expanse of freckles and moles that dot his skin. “I mean I could have kept those cannolis for myself and left, so what do you think?”

He snorts through his nose, measuring out the shot before pouring it in the glass.

“I ate one already.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye like a boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Steve! Dessert before dinner? What are you on vacation or something?” Your laugh makes his face light up, pouring the mixer a little heavy handed just for you.

“What can I say? I was craving something sweet." He makes sure to look at you when he says it, begging you to catch the double meaning before dumping everything into a silver shaker.

His eyes watch the way your bottom lip tucks between your teeth at his words to try and hide your smile before he starts the loud process of mixing your drink. You don’t look away from him this time, holding his stare. It pours out smooth over the ice when he’s done, squeezing another slice of lime for good measure over the top. Pushing it towards you, he leans on the counter with his elbow to watch.

“Let’s see what you think.”

You give him your best poker face, your fingers wrapping around the now chilled glass. Pieces of salt fall off the rim when you bring it to your lips. He straightens up, grinning proudly at the way your brows marry together when it hits your tongue. You can barely taste the tequila, the sweetness of the mixer hiding all evidence while the sour of the lime balances the whole thing out. It was the best margarita you’d ever had.

“Wow,” you finally get out after you’ve had enough, only to have part of your sip dribble down onto your chin. 

“Careful.” He chuckles, taking the glass from you, his eyes meeting yours with something unknown swimming in them. 

He gets closer — close enough to feel the heat of his breath fan across your lips, for the tips of his slippers to touch the tops of your sneakers. Your favorite stray still taunts you, begs you to take care of it but it’s his hand that raises first. The pad of his thumb swiping across your chin, cleaning up what you left behind. 

“Is it sweet enough for you tough girl?” His voice comes out low, a question just for your ears. 

Your answer is lost on the tip of your tongue when he brings his thumb to his mouth. Pink lips wrapping around it before sucking it clean. 

“Steve - “ your fingers go to hook in his belt loops, your body demanding him closer before your brain can stop the movements.

“Hone-“ he starts, but someone clears their throat in the doorway.

Your hands drop expecting to hear the deep tenor of Eddie’s voice, only to be met with the silky softness of a woman’s.

“Steven! Who is this??” It comes out sweet like the drink he made, and it makes the man in front of you sigh. Whatever was going to happen is gone. 

“This is my neighbor.” He gives, not trying to hide his annoyance, and when you turn around it only seems to make her smile more.

“This is Eddie’s wife Peach.” Steve introduces, finally running a hand through his hair and you can’t help the pang of jealousy that you didn’t get to do it. 

Peach smiles brightly at you, extending a dainty hand and the rock on her wedding ring catches in the overhead light. She’s gorgeous and almost out of his league, but the way she gives Steve the same knowing eyebrow wiggle makes you realize quickly they’re a match made in heaven.

“Well now I want a margarita Steve.” She crosses her arms winking at you, relishing in the groan Steve gives her.

He wanted to kiss you, but bargained with himself that maybe this was the universe giving him the sign that it wasn’t time yet.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” You don’t mean for it to sound so shy when it comes out of your mouth, but you needed a minute alone to catch your breath. 

“Yeah of course honey, it’s just down the hall right past the staircase.” He points down the doorway you both came from, grabbing your fingers and squeezing gently before busying himself with making another drink.

You're halfway down the hallway when you hear Peaches in the kitchen.

“That’s her??”

The bathroom is smaller than you thought it’d be. It’s only a half, meant for guest use, that part is obvious with the lack of a shower inside. It’s still nicer than the one in your one bedroom, the crisp white towels that hang on silver racks look almost untouched. The deep stone sink in front of the mirror makes you feel like you’re in a spa. 

You stare at yourself in the big oval mirror. He was going to kiss you, right?

You can hear the faint sounds of the two of them talking in the kitchen, choosing to stay hidden until the rate of your heart slows down to something less likely to make you pass out. Their feet shuffle against the wooden floor by the entryway before the sound of the front door opening hits your ears.

The light knock on the bathroom door makes you jump, his voice slipping through the cracks of it.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re going back to the porch. I’ve got your drink whenever you come out.” There’s a hint of worry in his tone, was he thinking about it too?

“I’ll be out in just a sec!” 

He lingers by the door for a minute before you hear his heavy steps head outside. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, straightening out your work shirt, and pulling down the ends of your skirt before turning around to check from behind. 

“Okay, you’re cool. Just be cool. He was totally gonna kiss you and that’s fine,” you whisper to yourself before checking your breath just in case it happens again. 

Your hand lingers on the door knob for a second before you finally work up enough courage to face him again.

🌃🌃🌃

The front door is cracked open when you emerge from the bathroom, their voices battling over the low playing music inside.

“What do you mean you haven’t asked her for her number yet Steve?” Eddie’s question makes you stop in your tracks.

“Can you talk any louder?” Steve half whispers and half yells, making Peach giggle. 

“It’s obvious you both are into each other -“ Eddie starts again only to be cut off by his wife.

“I swear they were about to kiss in the kitchen, Ed.” 

The way Steve stays quiet tells you that it wasn’t just in your head.

“Look, I just - I don’t know.” He sighs deeply, and you can practically see the way he’s probably running a stressed hand through his hair.

“Steve..” his best friend's tone goes soft, “It’s been long enough, you’re not a bad person for having feelings for someone again. You and I both know Emma would want that for you. I see the way you look at this girl, I haven’t seen you look at someone like that in over a decade.” 

Since his wife.

Steve laughs a little and you hear the ice in his cup clink against the glass signaling him taking a drink before he answers, “Yeah, I know.”

There’s a second of silence and you wonder what his face looks like right now. 

“Look, you’re going on that camping trip next week right? Ask her to water your plants or something while you’re gone, then you can get her number that way. That’s less scary right?” The teasing edge to Peach’s words are gone, she’s gentle with the way she speaks to him.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s a normal thing neighbors ask right?” 

“Totally!” Eddie chimes in enthusiastically making you have to muffle your giggle.

You decide to open and close the bathroom door again to alert them of your presence when you feel like your eavesdropping has gone on long enough. 

Steve clears his throat and you catch the end of his silent scolding to his friends when you step outside. He smiles but there’s something missing from it when he holds up your drink from his place on the porch swing, Bandit curled up at his feet. 

“There she is!” He teases, desperately trying to bring the mood back to what it was before.

“I didn’t fall in if you can believe it,” your response comes out more awkward than intended, laughing nervously while taking your drink. You wonder if it’s obvious that you heard everything when you dare to take the spot next to him. Thighs and shoulders pressing together, your mind races with the new information.

Steve, your handsome older neighbor, the one who works for the Cubs, the one who drives a BMW to work every morning, the guy who fixes your sink and sends you dorky notes likes you. The weight of his guilt is the only thing holding him back from making a real move and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that the silly crush you’d been harboring is returned.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to comment on how long a lady’s in the bathroom Harrington?” Eddie teases breaking the ice, making Steve flush deep crimson from his neck to his ears.

“That’s not - that’s not what I meant,” he grumbles inside his glass, the smooth confidence from inside the kitchen now gone.

You squeeze his knee gently with a giggle, the thick hair tickling your palm. 

Eddie takes control of the conversation for the rest of the time it takes you to finish your drink, Peach interjecting every now and then to roast him when he’s telling a story wrong. You half listen to as much of it all as you can, but it’s hard to focus when you can feel the way Steve keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye, turning away everytime you go to meet his gaze. 

He keeps his thigh pressed to yours despite there being more than enough room on the swing, the sides of your feet tapping together on the porch. The heat of his body and the strength of the nice tequila hit after a long day all at once, a yawn escaping you in the middle of another one of Eddie’s bike trip stories.

“If I’m boring you just say something, jeez,” Eddie teases, a warm smile spread over his plump lips.

“Sorry!” Embarrassment warms your cheeks, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, “It’s just been a long day at work and I think the late night is just hitting me.”

“I’m teasing, kid. I have stories like these that I could tell for weeks. Go get some sleep.” He pulls his wife deeper into his side, her eyelids droopy like yours. “I think the Mrs is ready too anyway.”

Steve’s hand spreads over your back, the warmth of his palm rubbing up and down the dip of your spine making you hum.

“I’ll walk you home honey.”

🌃🌃🌃

Your staircase feels never ending, both of you slightly out of breath when you get to the top. Turning around at your front door to face him, both of you smile, trying not to laugh at the sheen of sweat on your foreheads. 

“That seemed harder that time, no?” Steve breaks the silence sounding winded.

“I think maybe it has something to do with the liquor and the pastries, but I could be wrong.”

His laugh is booming, making you giggle while you try to shush him out of courtesy of your neighbors who are fast asleep. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers, a smirk that tells you he’s really not tugging at his lips, his eyes meeting yours the way they did in the kitchen.

You don’t know when he got this close or how your back ended up pressed against your front door. It’s silent between you, but the comfortable kind. Words not ready to be said out loud being exchanged through looks and the tips of his fingers brushing against yours.

“Thank you again for bringing me dinner, that was very sweet of you.” His voice is soft like his touches.

“It’s not a problem. It’s the least I could do really.” You look up at him from under your lashes, you’re ready for what was meant to happen in the kitchen now.

He hums a little to himself, interlacing your fingers with his. His eyebrows knitting together like he’s deep in thought. 

“Listen, I’m going on this camping trip next week with Bandit. Peaches would kill me if I let those plants die, maybe you wouldn’t mind coming by once to water them? I can give you my number, that way you know, we can talk about details or if something else breaks in your apartment.” He lets out a shaky laugh, and you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“Gimme your phone Steve.”

His eyes widen and you can’t believe he’s shocked you said yes. He lets go of you to dig it out of his pocket, and you try to stifle a laugh at how frantic he seems.

You save your number under Tough Girl before handing it back to him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth watching the way it makes his cheeks turn red when he reads it.

“I’ll - um text you with the dates,” he stutters a little slowly, backing away. 

“You could also just text me.” You shrug and it makes him miss the top step, catching himself on the railing. 

“Good to know.” The smile he gives you knocks the air out of your lungs. “Have a good night, tough girl.”

——

It’s only an hour later when you’re in bed, halfway asleep when you hear your phone buzz next to you. You wonder if he can see the way you smile like an idiot at your bright screen.

--

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beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

eddie munson edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

chapter six

[peeves-gurl]

Thighs

Fred Weasley × BigThigh! Female

i literally have no idea where this is coming from after a year of writing nothing.

Summary: She hates her thighs, but her boyfriend loves them, and he wants to make sure she knows.

Warnings: established relationship, self hate, body dismorphia, lots of fluff, pet names (sweetheart/baby/darling/ love), mention of pregnancy, 18+ MDNI!!

FEMALE CHARACTER HAS NO NAME, AND NO SPECIFIC SKIN/EYE/HAIR COLOUR (partly because i couldn't make my brain come up with so many details😭)

smut: oral fem recieving, thigh fucking, face sitting, unprotected p in v, praise, body worship, hickeys? idk

She looked at herself in the mirror, light makeup highlighting her features beautifully. The thin straps of the sundress hanging across her shoulders, the top resting just above her bust, not exposing much, but not showing anything either. The fabric was a light powder blue with tiny flowers along its length, and it hugged her figure perfectly. It was the perfect summer dress, upto her mid thigh.

She looked alright in her opinion, good even, but for her thighs. They were too thick, with too many stretch marks. The cellulite was dimpled and heavy, and jiggled with each movement of hers, and it truly disgusted her with herself. She was okay with her body, and honestly thought she was attractive when she was dressed well, like today, but her thighs were always the problem.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she flung open the door of her wardrobe that she shared with Fred, and picked out a different dress. It was a pale pink one, loose and long, and extended beyond her knees, hiding her biggest insecurity. Still slightly grumpy, she completed the finishing touches to her look, when she heard her boyfriend's voice from the door.

"You ready love?" Fred called out, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah. All done." She smiled, grabbing her purse and slipping on her sandals, before walking towards the handsome man. He was dressed in a white tank top vest and blue jeans, and a blue and white floral shirt wrapped around his broad shoulders, completing the summery look.

Fred held out his hand to her, and she delicately placed her much smaller one into his, and he gently pulled her closer to himself. Placing a tender kiss on his lips, she smiled up at him, admiring his beautiful eyes and perfect freckles and his signature Weasley hair that she loved so much.

Fred's eyes trailed down her body in admiration, before he turned back to meet her eyes with a puzzled look.

"You didn't wear that dress?" He asked sincerely, hoping to finally see her in it since she had been so happy buying it weeks ago.

"Not in the mood." She lied, and he nodded convincingly, though he was anything but convinced by her answer.

"Gorgeous, never the less," he said, complimenting her as he always did.

"You more," she smiled, kissing his cheek.

Since buying the dress, it was the only thing that she had talked about. She gushed over how her bag and sandals went perfectly with it, and how she'd style her hair whenever she'd get the chance to wear it. And now, she stood there, wearing something else, and Fred was sure there was more to it than she was showing.

They hurriedly locked their place and apparated to their destination, Lee Jordan's housewarming party. It was just a close knit celebration that he and his girlfriend, Andrea, were hosting together, since moving into their first appartment in London.

She blended quickly among the known faces, smiling and chatting with all their old friends and then joining Andrea and Angelina in a small tour of the appartment. The entire party then ended up in the living room, and she, along with Fred, George and Angelina hopped around their circle, enjoying the little reunion they were having with the entire gang from Hogwarts.

Fred couldn't help but look at her. He always thought her to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and himself to be the luckiest man in the world, to be able to call her his girlfriend. He loved looking at her hair, her soft makeup and her smile, but today it wasn't as big as it always was, and he knew it wasn't as real, and it physically hurt him to not know the reason for it. He was sure it had something to do with her dress, because every time someone complimented her tonight, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation before she uttered her usual 'thank you'.

She'd been saving it up for some 'special occasion', and as soon as Lee had called to extend an invitation to the party, she had been delighted at the idea of getting to wear it the way she had wanted. Fred was happy that she was happy, and now she wasn't, and he didn't know why.

It was nearly midnight when the party ended, and Fred and George finally bid goodbye, ready with their plan to spend the next day together at their shop, as per usual. She hugged Angelina, and then got hold of Fred's hand and apparated them back to their front door. Fred unlocked it and hung the keys in their spot as she headed back to their room to change into her pajamas. The feeling of her thighs touching each other under the dress made her want to throw up. She felt disgusting in her body and she just wanted to cover herself from head to toe and bury herself quietly into the blankets.

Her expression must have given it away, because Fred walked into the room right as she took out her pajamas.

"Hey," whisper into her ear, kissing her neck softly, and his hands circled her waist. "Don't change just yet, love. I haven't had the chance to admire you properly tonight."

"The dress is a bit uncomfortable", she replied, trying to stop her voice from breaking.

"Just a few minutes, please?" He requested, and she complied, twisting around in his arms to finally face him. His eyes were so full of love for her that it nearly made her cry, and when he leaned down to press his lips to hers, a stray tear managed to find its way down her cheek.

"Baby what's wrong?" He asked, gently wiping the tear away.

"Nothing, just tired," she lied.

"Why didn't you wear that dress today?" He asked again, and she repeated her previous answer of not being in the mood to wear it.

"Don't lie to me," he condemned softly, and she knew she was caught. "Tell me love, why didn't you wear it?"

The singular tear that had made its way out of her eyes was now followed by many more, and before she knew, she was a sobbing mess in front of her boyfriend. Fred pulled her into himself and comforted her, his hands gliding over her back and just letting her know that he was there, and he would be there forever.

When she had finally calmed down, Fred gently guided her over to their bed, and sat down, as she stood before him with puffy and swollen eyes. He slowly pulled her onto himself, making her straddle his lap and resting his hands across her back.

"What's the matter Princess?" he coaxed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's something about that dress isn't it?"

She breathed in deeply, contemplating weather she should tell him or not. Of course she can tell him, he's Freddie, her Freddie, and he'd always understand.

"Ihatemythighs" she blurted out in a single breath, only to find Fred looking down at her, amused.

"Try saying that slower baby? I'm not that smart," he joked, earning a small smile.

"I hate my thighs," she said finally. "They're fat and ugly and they move around a lot, and that dress reveals them too much."

"Don't say that darling!" Fred said seriously, upset over what she'd just said about herself. "I've seen you try that dress on and you looked gorgeous!"

"Those trial room lights make everything look good, but I look horrid in that dress." She said.

"Do not say that about yourself," Fred scolded. "You're the most beautiful woman I've seen, with the most beautiful body and the most beautiful thighs. I won't hear anyone talk like that about you, even if you're the one saying it."

"You'd obviously say that, you're my boyfriend," she reasoned.

"I'm not lying sweetheart, I swear. You don't have to be insecure about anything." He said, only to be matched with a blank look from her.

"You don't believe me." He stated in disappointment, settling his hands over her thighs, through her dress, his fingers steadily moving towards the hem. "Can I?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. She took a deep breath before nodding, allowing him to flip it up and run his fingers on the smooth skin.

"I love you. Every thing about you is perfect. You've got the most beautiful face, and I can't stop looking at it. Your eyes, your lips, your cute button nose," he said, leaning in to peck it. "I love your hair, and you look gorgeous when you leave it down. I love your neck, and that tiny freckle on your collarbone." He buried his nose at the base of her neck, breathing her scent, and nibbling gently.

"I love your boobs, and I can't stop thinking about them when you're not around, and your bum too," he smiled cheekily as his hands trailed up her thighs to gently squeeze her ass, and then returned to their previous place. "I love your arms, the way they wrap around my neck when I kiss you. And those damn hands, those fingers, could very well be the death of me." He smiled, kissing her exposed shoulder, and then her upper arm a few times.

"And your stomach is so soft darling. I love just looking at it, thinking if someday you'd let me put a baby in there?" He smiled, earning back a smile and a nod from her. "Your pussy, baby. I'm not even going to say anything, because you know she's better than drugs. And I love your legs, especially when you show them off in pretty skirts and dresses. I love it when you wrap them around me and pull me closer when I make love to you."

"So pretty," he whispered, caressing her thighs, barely audible. "Such beautiful thighs baby, so soft. I want to bury myself into them right fucking now."

"Freddie, please" she whispered back, not even sure what she was pleading for.

"Can I baby? Please?" He said, running his fingers over the smooth skin, and she nodded without thinking.

Fred's arms looped around her back, holding her tight to himself as he stood up and turned them around. He gently lay her down on the bed and got on between her legs. Leaning down to kiss her deeply, he whispered praises to her, making her feel so loved.

He kissed her neck and collarbone, leaving a few stray hickeys, and then pushed the straps of her dress aside to show the same love to her shoulders. Looking up at her for confirmation, he slipped her dress off her body and tossed it away in the room.

She was there now, in nothing but a pair of panties, and she could feel her usual confidence seep back into her body. She reached for Fred and pulled him back in, kissing him passionately and lovingly. Her hands fisted his shirt and pulled it off him, soon followed by his tank top vest, leaving his torso as bare as hers.

"Hmm that's how I like it," he encouraged into the kiss. Soon enough, he moved to her breasts, biting and sucking, and the room was filled with her moans. He kissed his way down to her panties, and she lifted her hips to let him pull them down. He placed her legs over his shoulders, and she shut her eyes in anticipation.

Instead of going right to her clit, he began to kiss and caress her thighs. "They're so pretty sweetheart. Why would you ever dislike them?" He whispered, teasing the skin with his teeth. He licked up the length of her left thigh, but stopped short of where she needed him. He began to suck and nibble the flesh there, drawing moan after moan from her throat. Soon enough, he was repeating his actions on her right thigh, and she was getting hornier by the minute.

Finally, his tongue reached where she wanted, and her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling. Her fingers found themselves intertwined in his hair, pulling and tugging each time he did something more pleasurable than he'd done previously. Her walls had began to clench around nothing, and the pleasure she felt was too much to hold back. She was so close to her climax, moaning Fred's name, at the edge of bursting, when Fred stopped his actions and pulled away. Groaning, she sat up to face him, as he smiled through his slick covered lips.

"Sit on my face," he demanded with a grin.

"What? No." She said breathlessly.

"Please baby, it's not something that we haven't done before," he reasoned.

"But my thighs are really big and you..."

"No buts, come on!" He said, lying flat on his back, waiting for her to climb onto him.

Still not very sure of the idea, she positioned herself, but didn't put any weight on him, choosing to hover over his face instead. A blush crept up her neck and made its way to her face at being so spread out in front of him.

Fred smiled and licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, and her head hung back at the feeling, as he picked up right where he had left off. Seeing her pleasure, his hands caressed her ass, before he pulled her onto himself entirely. He moaned at the feeling of being between her thighs, and began eating her out with even more enthusiasm than before.

She was so lost in her pleasure that she forgot her insecurity and began grinding down his face once his tongue entered her, and her moans were reciprocated with his own. She was coming in mere minutes, and it was probably the one of the best orgasms she'd had.

As she came down from her high, she shifted back from his face, sitting on Fred's chest now. His eyes were drowsy and his face was covered in her slick, as he smiled up at her. She immediately felt something hard behind herself and instantly reached her hand out, unzipping his jeans and letting her hand slide under the waistband of his boxers to reach his dick. Fred groaned in pleasure when her hand brushed against his sensitive tip, and instinctively jerked his hips forward.

"Don't," he grunted, almost sounding pained. "I won't be able to hold it in."

"Then don't hold it in, Freddie." She smiled, leaning down to kiss him, moaning at her own taste all over his mouth. She quickly whispered a soft "I love you," only for him to hear.

"Want to fuck you baby," he said. "Please."

She let go of him at his request, and climbed off him. Her hands busied themselves with getting rid of his jeans and boxers, as he lay on the bed watching her. As soon as he was completely undressed, he sat up, and then proceeded to get off the bed, much to her confusion. He walked over to ger dresser, hurriedly tossing everything off it onto the chair next to it. He came back towards her then, offering his hand to her, and she took it, following him off the bed.

"Going to fuck your thighs today, baby." He declared, "Need you to know how much I love them. Is that okay?"

She nodded, letting him sit on the sturdy wooden table, with his back against the mirror, and stood right between his legs. One of his hands rested on her waist as he finally took his length in the other and guided it to her slit, rubbing it through her wetness and letting his head fall back against the mirror in pleasure. She had enough of his teasing now, so she quickly took matters into her own hands. Her fingers pulled away his own from his dick, and she wrapped her palm around him now. He let her take the lead, both his hands clutching onto her waist, and holding her in place. Spreading her hickey covered thighs a little, she guided his tip through the gap. He thrusted forward in relief, and he brushed perfectly against her clit, giving her just as much pleasure as him. His head now rested on her shoulder, and his moans went straight into her ears, turning her into a complete mess.

It was slow at first, since they had never tried this before, but once the pleasure built up, Fred's thrusts became more confident and sure, until he was close enough for them to become sloppy once more. She was just as close, her clit throbbing with each stroke against it.

"I'm so close baby," he whispered hoarsely. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside Freddie, please!" She replied, barely able to keep her eyes open. He immediately pulled her onto himself and she was straddling his lap now, her hand guiding his tip into her warmth. She sat down as soon as the tip was inside, completely sheathing him, and burying her face into his chest.

"So warm love. So good." He moaned, thrusting up into her mercilessly.

"You're so big Freddie. Could never get used to you," she said back in her state of complete haze. Her walls fluttered around him, and he connected their lips, his tongue intertwined hers as she came hard. Fred followed seconds later, his moans swallowed by her as their lips remained connected, and his warmth coated her insides.

She once again buried herself into his chest as they stilled, her arms in their rightful place around him, and his softening dick still inside her. He held her close to himself, warm breath fanning her back as his head rested on her shoulder.

"Baby?" He whispered after a few moments of silence, and his voice was laced with his usual mischief.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like your thighs yet? If not then I'd love to try again."

[respectthepetty]

Semantic (Color) Error

Sang Woo and Jae Young are color-coded boys in love.

So what are their colors?

If you thought red and blue, you'd be WRONG!

The opening credits and scenes declare what they are:

Their colors are blue and green.

Sang Woo is a blue boy. He is confident, stable, and intelligent.

Jae Young is a green guy. He is lively, hopeful, and easygoing.

He even draws Sang Woo in his color on the wanted posters.

The only reason Jae Young wears red is to bother Sang Woo.

Jae Young borrows most of the red items from his friends.

He begins wearing red when looking for Sang Woo before he is aware Sang Woo hates the color *the "SINNER" jacket*

When they first meet, they both wear black, but Jae Young is backed up by his fake red. *the "DIE BITCH" jacket*

Black tends to be their neutral color.

When they're hiding out in the clothes, they are neutral in black with their colors behind them until the red light comes on, referring to Jae Young's fake red that bothers Sang Woo.

Exchanging colors

While at the bar, Jae Young is upset at Sang Woo for ignoring him, so he plays darts with his fake red and Sang Woo's blue.

He rescues Sang Woo, and they have a tender moment. The next day, Sang Woo tries on red.

And Jae Young picks up blue even though there is a red outfit he could wear.

But Sang Woo doesn't like this (because he has the fake red), and retreats into a dark blue while Jae Young remains neutral black. *see the barrier that divides them demonstrated by the wall behind them: Sang Woo in the darker color (wants to remain in the dark about his feelings) and Jae Young in the lighter color (because he is aware of his feelings)*

However, Sang Woo can't truly let Jae Young go and continues to use Jae Young's fake red when he usually uses black. *remember Jae Young placed a red pen on Sang Woo's shelf after the bar incident*

Sang Woo realizes he made a mistake and goes to see Jae Young at the restaurant. He is still in his blue, but now he is surrounded by Jae Young's real color, green.

Jae Young rejects him, but Sang Woo tries again, this time fully understanding how important Jae Young is, so he wears Jae Young's green to reflect that.

After this, Jae Young incorporates Sang Woo's blue into his wardrobe.

The two become closer, and eventually kiss.

Each is highlighted by the other's color: Sang Woo in Jae Young's green, and Jae Young in Sang Woo's blue.

But, per usual, Sang Woo is confused and goes to Jae Young's studio in Jae Young's fake red while Jae Young is in neutral black.

Jae Young makes Sang Woo realize what he has been feeling (no fake red anymore, but pure green). EDIT: @grapejuicegay spotted that when Sang Woo agrees to the two-week trial period, he does so in a blue and green thumbs up sweater.

Sang Woo decides to be honest in the same shirt he wore the first time he yelled at Jae Young and showed him emotion - the merged green and blue flannel shirt.

After that, Sang Woo is in love and in Jae Young's green

Until Jae Young tells Sang Woo he got accepted into an oversees program, then both boys are struggling with their feelings and retreat back to their colors *Sang Woo's beloved blue bike*

But all ends well, and they merge their colors and love together with a hint of fake red (blue bedding with green pillows)

And the Semantic (Color) Error was fixed!

[fafnir19]

Witchcraft isn't for Boys

As I walked into the house, I couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment towards my new stepmother, Sandra. I’m Luke and have recently turned 18. As I don’t have any income as student, I still live together with my dad. My father, Joe, had recently remarried, and now we were moving in with her. There was just something about her that rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was her overly cheerful demeanor or her constant need to be in control. Whatever it was, I couldn't stand her. Months went by, and Joe was away on another one of his business trips. It was during this time that I stumbled upon Sandra's dark secret – she was a witch. And not just any witch, but a powerful one. Sandra was faced with a dilemma. Should she kill me to protect her secret or train me to become a witch like her? Ultimately, she chose to train me, even though it was highly unconventional for witches to train boys. As my training progressed, so did my magical abilities. With each spell I mastered, my athleticism seemed to grow as well. I was transforming into an athletic jock.

One day, overwhelmed with heartbreak, I approached Sandra and asked if there was a spell that could make me more irresistible to the opposite sex. She gave me a choice - I could have the spell but at the cost of my name. After much contemplation, I decided that sacrificing my name was worth becoming utterly irresistible. The ritual was performed, and Sandra bestowed upon me the name Logan. The spell worked like a charm, and all the girls started chasing after me. However, the spell had some unintended side effects. My wardrobe underwent a drastic change; I found myself wearing tight pants, open shirts with rolled-up sleeves, and loafers. I looked like a character straight out of a trashy romance novel.

On top of that, since it was a parent's privilege to name their child, I now saw Sandra as my motherly mentor. I had transformed into Sandra's ideal son, a far cry from the teenager who detested her presence.

One day, out of the blue, Grandmaster Dorian paid us a visit, only to discover me by Sandra's side. Needless to say, he was livid that Sandra had taken it upon herself to train a boy without his permission. Sandra apologized and defended her decision, highlighting my great talent. A few days later, while Sandra was away, Dorian came by again, this time with a peace offering for me. He brought clothing more fitting for a wizard - tight black velvet pants, a form-fitting black silk shirt, and black slippers. Dorian suggested that I try on the clothes. Intrigued and flattered, I obliged, even if I thought they looked somewhat silly. Once I had the clothes on, I realized they were enchanted. My body hair vanished, and my family jewels shrunk. The silk shirt opened by itself, revealing my hairless chest.

To my astonishment, Dorian explained that it was my punishment for being trained without his consent. My shrunken balls would make me obedient to him, and the loss of body hair and exposed chest would serve as a reminder that I was merely a boy who needed to be guided by a strong man.

Dorian took me to his place, and with a snap of his fingers, I found myself on his couch. His magic compelled me to spread my legs as he positioned himself in between them, stating that he was going to make me his apprentice. Much to my surprise, my body responded with arousal. Dorian, wearing a wicked grin, remarked that it seemed my "engagement" with him had already been decided. Under Dorian's tutelage, I began to learn the art of dark magic. With every lesson, I became smoother, more conceited, and a bit of a bad boy. Dorian's plan came to fruition, for I transformed into a smooth-talking, snobbish bad boy. I now donned tight black pants, boots, and hip-length bomber jackets that accentuated my athletic physique. My hair was slicked back, and I had become a damn good-looking young, arrogant, and ruthless warlock.

Sandra was no longer viewed as a maternal mentor in my eyes. Dorian asked Sandra how she felt about what he had done to me. He insinuated that he had been too lenient with her in the past. Furthermore, he hinted her that he would soon make me her superior, eagerly awaiting the day I would rule her with an iron fist and cruelty.

[archivistofnerddom]

How the Batch responds to someone who denigrates the color pink in front of them

And God forbid if this happens when Omega is figuring out her personal style, preferences, and fashion sense.

The Batch would certainly not ascribe to the belief that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. They make it their personal mission to prove that that’s nonsense.

Hunter

Guess who found pink-handled knives? And guess who will always at least two strapped to his belt at all times?

Rambo Barbie over here has traded out his usual bandana for a bright pink one. He’s wearing it with absolute and complete unfazed confidence. Giggle about it at your own risk and peril.

Just in case the knives and bandana were a little too subtle, he makes a point of wearing pink (possibly flannel) shirts regularly. Said shirts run the full spectrum of pink, but that’s fine. He thinks he looks good in the color.

He will absolutely look anyone who goes off about the pink/blue gendered thing dead in the eye and just go, “No.” That usually stops the BS in its tracks.

Crosshair

This man knows he looks good in black. That doesn’t stop him from having pink be his new go-to highlight color. All of the little accessories and details on his armor and helmet are now a lovely share of pink.

When his hair starts coming back in, he starts coloring to a nice light pink (blush) color. Just don’t mistake the pink hair for friendliness though. He’s still a snarky bastard.

His Firepuncher gets a makeover too. Crosshair enjoys taking people out with a neon pink sniper rifle. (It sets a very specific, very petty tone — and he’s here for it.)

He will also intentionally be a little shit and set people up to get verbally knocked down a peg or three. Tech has roughly five versions of the same speech about how assigned gendering colors is an outdated concept. Crosshair is going to do his twin a solid and let him loose on idiots. (He enjoys watching the chaos and panic that unfolds.)

Tech

Like I said, he will give a full lecture about the fallacy of “Pink is for girls, and blue is for boys.” Oh, did you want to see slides to go along with that? Here, he’s got those too.

Tech shows up with pink-framed goggles, a pink-cased data pad, and pink embroidery on all his pockets and pouches within 24 hours. For him, fashion is functional first, but it can also be fun and make a statement.

Did you say give the Marauder a new paint job? Why yes, it is time that it got a new look. Thank you so much for suggesting that. (And yes, Wrecker helped with the paint job and redesign. They both did such a good job.)

Tech also knows how to recalibrate his blasters so that his blaster bolts and stun rays are pink. He can show you how he did, if you ask him nicely.

Wrecker

This man comes in one setting — loud and enthusiastic support. And the best way to do that? Head-to-toe neon pink At All Times. (Seriously, this man shows up with completely pink armor and a helmet and just continues to do his normal job without commenting on his new paint job.)

Lula gets a wardrobe upgrade too. She’s now for a very cool pink jacket that Wrecker made for her himself.

Wrecker will loudly and eagerly proclaim that pink is his absolute favorite color anytime he hears a person talking shit about the color. He isn’t putting on a front either. He does love the color pink.

Guess who has pink smoke grenades and pink glitter bombs in his pack at all time? Wrecker. Why? Well, why not!?!?!

Echo

Bright pink kama for life! No, he will accept no questions or suggestions to the otherwise. His kama is pink, and he looks fabulous.

Echo may be a part of the Bad Batch now, but he was part of the 501st and Domino Squad before that. If you give him just the slightest scrap of an idea, he’ll run with it in a way that would make Fives proud . . . which is why so many people wind up covered in a violently pink glitter-and-glue mixture when they say stupid shit. (Wrecker may have helped.)

He gets Tech to upgrade his scomp to be metallic pink.

Grumpy Disappointed Mom Face gets deployed with great effect. Echo isn’t mad that you’re spouting nonsense. He had just hoped you didn’t buy into the nonsense that only girls can like pink.

Omega

Omega colors the tips of her hair to be bright pink. It’s actually a whole family project, especially in deciding which shade of pink would look best on her. She also used this as an opportunity to try some new hair styles to show off her color makeover.

She also got Tech to readjust her bow so that it too fires pink bolts. (They’re gleeful menaces on the battlefield together.)

Leaning into pink helps Omega connect with her femininity. For as much as she loves her brothers, that’s one area where they aren’t the best role models (even if they fully support her during this journey). She is the one who helped her brothers incorporate pink into their current wardrobe.

Omega also learns how to give manicures. The only polish choice anyone she gives one to gets to make is whether or not they want glitter. Everyone is going to be rocking pink nails when she gives them a manicure. (The Batch are very diligent and serious about maintaining their manicures.)

[dynmghts]

so i have this compilation of outfits katsuki has worn officially that i think are neat...

there is more to this than "he wears basically anything he's given well", such as the fact that he knows how to style + how he prefers high quality, expensive clothing which last much longer and appeal to the style he's going for most the time (which is a casual kinda grungy emo alternative look??)... and most of this is just promotional art, but also. listen.

when he's styling to look good, i noticed that he doesn't usually go for just a shirt - he's always got a loose button-up, a jacket, even a vest. the only one of the images i collected is a lil promotional art with him in a white loose shirt and torn black skinny jeans. but like. idk he makes that one work too.

let me kind of demonstrate in these sort of "categories", i guess. i'll have more coherent thoughts later but take this first:

horikoshi sketches, "smart casual": at least, that's what i'd call it. they're not overly fancy by any means, but they aren't his typical skull graphic shirt and tracksuit pants with a pair of loafers kind of look. in these, he looks a little more dressed up, and the looks read as him going out with friends, almost. (the silly print shirt over the plain shirt is such a fun look for him, though. it really stands out in comparison to the other two here.)

it's also clear to see that his go-to is to combine a mid-tone jacket with either a plain light-coloured shirt or a black one - and if he is going to have anything on the shirts, it's going to be a minimal design, like the x on his shirt on the left. the interesting thing is that there are more accessories on the right-most outfit compared to the other two; i think in order to compliment the print on his over-shirt, he's accessorised accordingly. and i think it looks pretty good that way!

anime official art, "practical": well, i call it that for the other two mostly, but this particular style reads as a look where he looks decent - but he also looks like he could laze around in them. that loose-fitting white shirt has got to be one of the most comfortable things he has in his wardrobe, and that hoodie is a very close second. my guy has plenty of desire to just... be, in these.

what stands out the most about these is how minimal they are in comparison to some of his other looks, but they still carry themselves well by BEING minimal. he doesn't need anything too drastic. if anything, the hoodie in the centre is the most "out there" look of the three, but it is minimising his world heroes mission stealth uniform. even his winter-themed outfit with the puffer jacket is simple in the way it's block colours with no obvious accessories. these are looks meant to be comfortable and fashionable at the same time.

horikoshi popularity poll / yr anniversary art, "dressed up": this is more or less highlighting the sort of "au" looks from the steampunk au and the community-named winter au, but also including one of my favourite yearly arts. these don't necessarily scream "katsuki", but at the same time, they do. they embody katsuki in his own way. the obvious thing being a loose fit around his neck, or informal, even if the rest of his outfit reads otherwise - and honestly, with these styles, it's less about what katsuki would wear and more like "i just think they're neat."

horikoshi promotional art, "formal": if you know me at all, you know how LOUD I AM about these looks, particularly the last two. ESPECIALLY the leather jacket look. the first thing i can note about all of these formal looks, though, is that katsuki is wearing his shirts buttoned up - and he's wearing something around his neck properly in two of them. in the leather jacket art, he's styled his hair, even!

i also noticed the colours tend to compliment his hair and eyes - in these, the reds and oranges don't overwhelm or dull his red eyes, while the blues and blacks accentuate his blond hair really, really well. touches of other colours are used to help add extra dimension: namely the green rope and the white flowers. yeah, i think there was a mention that kirishima had actually picked out the right-most outfit because he knew that katsuki wouldn't want to go to the party... but listen. i am at least lowkey convinced that this blond disclosed how to style a look around his appearance, because like hell he would be caught dead wearing anything Bad.

(ignoring some looks, anyway. i do not see 🙈)

i also adore his styled hair. like... i can't get enough of it. i know why he doesn't style it often, and it's because his hair is stubbornly spiky (even in believing that his hair is also naturally soft), but when he's able to? he knows EXACTLY what to do to it. katsuki really is his mother's son.

all this to say he looks good in most of his art - especially that which originates from horikoshi himself - and he clearly knows how to style an outfit. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[popatochisssp]

Aesthetics Ref - A Bros

Nickname: Xanth (A!Sans)

Height: 4” taller than you (OR 5’3”)

Eye-lights: Sky blue (#87CEEB) with flecks of xanthic yellow (#EEED09)

Magic Specialty: Yellow, cyan, green

Scars/distinguishing marks:  Frozen open right eye-socket, the black inside replaced with pure yellow magic (usually covered with an eye-patch), loose stardust-clouds of yellow magic also replacing a slash of his throat, a starburst in the middle of his sternum, the middle of both forearms, and a line from the top of his ilium to the top of his femur

Preferred Style: Sporty boho, very freeform, eclectic and organic but with a grounding touch of athletic utility. He’s a little more willing to show off some bone and less concerned with appearing put together and sensible than he used to be and it comes together into something a little slapdash, a bit casual, but as a whole both comfortable and fun. Tends towards greens and yellows and blues still, but more open to beiges and browns and tans as well.

Outerwear: Occasional cardigans, kimono-style (or similar) shrugs, maybe a light poncho or two tucked away somewhere, but mostly prefers to go without outerwear entirely. Overalls may make an appearance now and then

Top: Graphic tees, athletic tanks, tank tops of just about any kind, but a preference for scoop or square necklines to let his collarbone breathe (…well, as much as it can with his scarf in the way, at least)

Bottom: Basketball shorts, sweatpants, cinch-leg pants, the odd pair of harem pants here and there, loosely fitting and usually torn up jeans

Footwear: Running/walking shoes, sandals (little preference as long as they’re durable, flipflops need not apply), sometimes boots but practical and the amount of heel is not a concern

Trademark accessory/accessories: Between a few things, his distinctive square eye-patch, his well-loved blue scarf, and his heavily adorned forearms—wrapped with bandages (to keep the purely magic bits [literally] under wraps) and decorated with a variety of leather and beaded bracelets, some of which have meaning to him and some he just thinks look cool

-

Nickname: Piper (A!Papyrus)

Height: 1’4” taller than you (OR 6’3”)

Eye-lights: None (magic otherwise manifests cerulean blue [#007BA7], with threaded streaks of xanthic yellow [#EEED09])

Magic Specialty: Blue, yellow, cyan

Scars/distinguishing marks: A slice of yellow across his cervical vertebrae, a similarly yellow (skeletal) handprint wrapped around his right humerus

Preferred Style: Candy-colored classic, very into a sleek and sophisticated style, the kind to get you on the cover of a GQ magazine, but unafraid of bright and vibrant color to stand out. Amaranth, turquoise, lavender, and lemon, often paired with black or white for a more dramatic pop, he tends not to spare expenses for quality and has a well-cultivated wardrobe for a variety of classy modern looks.

Outerwear: Blazers, fitted, with the occasional overcoat for fancier (or colder) occasions

Top: Button shirts and sweaters, sometimes worn together and sometimes separately. Cashmere and wool are favorites of his for sweaters, either turtleneck or v-neck with no in-between (he prefers to keep his ‘slit’ throat covered, but if that’s not an option he’ll bare it as an accessory). Some simple shirts in linen and cotton for warmer weather, as well a few old t-shirts kept for sentimental value that he wears around the house or when he expects he might get dirty

Bottom: Slacks, some pressed, but all slim-fitting to highlight his length of leg

Footwear: Dress shoes and boots, most fond of chukka boots but certainly has a shoe for just about any occasion

Trademark accessory/accessories: Wears a variety of necklaces, mostly layered chains (gold to match his neck), but some with crystal or stone pendants if they happen to coordinate well with his outfit

[empresskatarina]

New Year, New Blue Shirt Post LOLOLOL.

For the Theloise discord bruhs, I give thee my latest installment that made Iz and Lo laugh so I thought I'd share it.

Background for those of whom aren't on the discord group or dgaf and thinking wtf: I work in the apparel sector and notice clothes. I also have a freakishly good memory. So, I just kinda noticed this 👕 I think it's his fave... If he is required to wear a shirt 💪 There was an ongoing joke about asking me if pieces looked the same lol.

I give you: Blue Shirt - Before & After

This meticulously crafted artwork also gives the viewer an intimate look into "why does he look different?" and clearly shows it's simply his part flipped (likely from Archie). Voila! Last I knew, our baddie baby girl is now on style #3, the re-emergence of early noughts surfer lewk/Abercrombie bag dude (for all the youth out there, the bag models were hot, shirtless, and de-foineeee-d). Today's piece does not, though, feature HowTFDoesHeStillFitIntoSameBlackDenim pants, nor Shirtless4ShondaCalam(tm). So, no tat today. Sorrz.

~*~

My next wardrobe installment to be seen by all of like maybe 10 people will be White Shirt: Old vs. New. A closer look into a not detailed study on why it looks like he may have had to possibly get a new one.

Plz send halp! I need a life!

Note: This is intended as a fun post that highlights his hard work! He has lovely arms, no matter the size (though, is cereal still his fave food with that low body fat count?! An investigative journalistic piece never to come... Just a fellow cereal lover)!! 🩵

[fafn]

Witchcraft isn't for boys

As I walked into the house, I couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment towards my new stepmother, Sandra. I’m Luke and have recently turned 18. As I don’t have any income as student, I still live together with my dad. My father, Joe, had recently remarried, and now we were moving in with her. There was just something about her that rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was her overly cheerful demeanor or her constant need to be in control. Whatever it was, I couldn't stand her. Months went by, and Joe was away on another one of his business trips. It was during this time that I stumbled upon Sandra's dark secret – she was a witch. And not just any witch, but a powerful one. Sandra was faced with a dilemma. Should she kill me to protect her secret or train me to become a witch like her? Ultimately, she chose to train me, even though it was highly unconventional for witches to train boys. As my training progressed, so did my magical abilities. With each spell I mastered, my athleticism seemed to grow as well. I was transforming into an athletic jock.

One day, overwhelmed with heartbreak, I approached Sandra and asked if there was a spell that could make me more irresistible to the opposite sex. She gave me a choice - I could have the spell but at the cost of my name. After much contemplation, I decided that sacrificing my name was worth becoming utterly irresistible. The ritual was performed, and Sandra bestowed upon me the name Logan. The spell worked like a charm, and all the girls started chasing after me. However, the spell had some unintended side effects. My wardrobe underwent a drastic change; I found myself wearing tight pants, open shirts with rolled-up sleeves, and loafers. I looked like a character straight out of a trashy romance novel.

On top of that, since it was a parent's privilege to name their child, I now saw Sandra as my motherly mentor. I had transformed into Sandra's ideal son, a far cry from the teenager who detested her presence.

One day, out of the blue, Grandmaster Dorian paid us a visit, only to discover me by Sandra's side. Needless to say, he was livid that Sandra had taken it upon herself to train a boy without his permission. Sandra apologized and defended her decision, highlighting my great talent. A few days later, while Sandra was away, Dorian came by again, this time with a peace offering for me. He brought clothing more fitting for a wizard - tight black velvet pants, a form-fitting black silk shirt, and black slippers. Dorian suggested that I try on the clothes. Intrigued and flattered, I obliged, even if I thought they looked somewhat silly. Once I had the clothes on, I realized they were enchanted. My body hair vanished, and my family jewels shrunk. The silk shirt opened by itself, revealing my hairless chest.

To my astonishment, Dorian explained that it was my punishment for being trained without his consent. My shrunken balls would make me obedient to him, and the loss of body hair and exposed chest would serve as a reminder that I was merely a boy who needed to be guided by a strong man.

Dorian took me to his place, and with a snap of his fingers, I found myself on his couch. His magic compelled me to spread my legs as he positioned himself in between them, stating that he was going to make me his apprentice. Much to my surprise, my body responded with arousal. Dorian, wearing a wicked grin, remarked that it seemed my "engagement" with him had already been decided. Under Dorian's tutelage, I began to learn the art of dark magic. With every lesson, I became smoother, more conceited, and a bit of a bad boy. Dorian's plan came to fruition, for I transformed into a smooth-talking, snobbish bad boy. I now donned tight black pants, boots, and hip-length bomber jackets that accentuated my athletic physique. My hair was slicked back, and I had become a damn good-looking young, arrogant, and ruthless warlock.

Sandra was no longer viewed as a maternal mentor in my eyes. Dorian asked Sandra how she felt about what he had done to me. He insinuated that he had been too lenient with her in the past. Furthermore, he hinted her that he would soon make me her superior, eagerly awaiting the day I would rule her with an iron fist and cruelty.

[fairydust-stuff]

Heathers 2018 thoughts on episode one

The show starts with JD's mom committing suicide and I remember. That she blew herself up in previous versions. But, I guess they had to censor it. So they had her gunshot to the head. I don't really get it myself.

It does take away from JD because I thought his mom blowing herself up was why he wanted to bomb the school.

Veronica realizes she doesn't know who she is. As she sits with the guidance counselor. Falling on platitudes of" I'm a good person."

Veronica trying struggling to know who she is isn't a bad move. It kinda makes sense the girl who joined a clique, doesn't know that kind of thing.

Um, I don't remember Veronica being basic though she was more of a cool rebel wannabe type. I thought that was why she was drawn to JD. Then again Heather C's opinion on Veronica is automadically not valid.

But Veronica feels basic and unimportant " How about this Veronica Sawyer is nothing."

Then in the next scene Betty shows up and it establishes Veronica & Betty are friends who are drifting apart. " You always had to be blue" Betty says with a laugh.

A nod to the movie's color scheme where Veronica is associated visually with blue. The scene ends after Veronica walks away with Betty declareing she always wanted to be blue. This suggests Veronica might be more domineering then she lets on.

Speaking of which, the Heathers are introduced in the next scene. They stroll into the cafateria and the slow mo scene is stirking and estblishes power.

But I got to agree with the internet on the costuming. Why couldn't the department just give every character a full wordrobe with their color? Its especally annoying because they make jokes about the characters color. " You always did think yellow was your color Heather." Then have her wear yellow for more then one scene. And Duke's gay villian wardrobe could still work in all greens. Maybe the make up department could of color coded their eye liner even.

Its also a little jarring once they start speaking. With Macnara being given the shut up Heather line from Chandler. I know on the surface having Duke and Macnara which roles doesn't seem like a big deal. However there was a reason Duke was the buttmonkey of the group in the movie. Duke was almost a nerd, they were bearly a Heather.

Even in this mordern Heathers take nerds are still uncool. So yeah makeing Duke the smart one. They should be at the gay nerd table but have landed a spot at the top of the hiarchy. That however is completely ignored in terms of motivation. Also the fact they have a quote " Gay nerd table" speaks a kind of underlying intolerance.

Furthermore even in 2010 and even today many social justice platforms still aren't big on trans & non binary people. So I still think Duke should of logically been the buttmonkey from the start.

(Also they have Chandler start abuseing them horribly anyway two episodes in even worse then in the movie. So why not just start with that dynamic?")

Also if Heather C builds her platform on social justice shouldn't Macnara still be the one she treats the best? Since it makes her look good to be seen being close with the Black lesbian? Furthermore later in the show Heather is shown being rather affectionate with Lizzy treating her like a kind of prodegee. So it comes off like a weird choice and due to later events plot device.

Anyway moving on so Heather shames Ram for wearing a redskin team T-shirt finding it racially insensative.

I know a lot of people complain about this. but I actually do like the highlighting of how bullies can use social causes as justification to humilate others.

Its not that Heather wants to have a dialog which would be within her rights. But instead she makes him strip, drags him in public and forces him to ask a girl to do a sex act, so he gets slapped. Its bullying disguised as social concern. (Which is something people who care about social justice should call out!)

But I do understand the complaints about how no wearing the collage T-shirt from the collage Ram wants to attend. Is not going to get him banned from said collage. And that really wouldn't care cause its their logo, so its in fact, not life ruining.

So the exacution is kinda crap which ruines the point they were trying to make.

Enter JD in the next scene. I have very mixed feelings about 2018 Heathers JD. Him coming off as so weird kinda doesn't work. Because JD's character kinda hinges on him being charming enough for others to overlook the red flags.

Here, he's just too red flag and utterly annoying in a pertencious way. Also, he doesn't do anything actually dark like fire a gun at some jocks. So I don't see why Veronica is interested in him. All he does is spout shit about how nothing matters.

The next scene involves Heather Duke and Veronica talking and transitions to them with slushies. Heather Duke offers to buy Veronica a slushie before hand. (Honestly I forgot they were friends before rewatching the movie due to the musical).

Where they see Macnara screwing their English teacher and realize she's fakeing being gay and???? Ok, I cann't pretend this plot point isn't stupid, because it is so dumb. Also the non binary person doesn't know bisexuals exist? If they wanted Macnara to piss off Chandler their were half a dozen ways they could do this better.

Also, they made Duke mean for no reason as they take a picture of this and seem gleefully ready as imuniation. Movie/ Musical Duke I could see doing this due to jealousy/ desire to see Macnara taken down a peg since she was a bystander to their abuse. But what is Duke's motivation for this? Their already Chandler's favorite here.

(I have further problems with this which i'll take about in later episodes.)

Next we have Veronica & Chandler at a party. And yeah rewatching this its not great. Veronica is a straight up ass for no reason. I know Chandler is toxic, but she's still trying to make an impression in front of important people. Veronica is openly being unsupportive and then blows off Chandler to have sex with a guy in the car. Wow what a great friend! I know Veronica isn't meant to be a good person but in this scene she's meant to be at the end of her rope with Heather C.

So yeah Chandler being pissed at her comes off as, understandable. Even if her responses are still nasty. Heather blows up at Veronica who accident or not did spill paint on her skirt. And then Veronica just calls her "fattie" which, ok in that instance is just straight up rude.

So they just both come off as straight up assholes. Even though its supposed to be Chandler pushed Veronica too far moment. I don't want to keep nit picking every movie change.

But the forced sexual favors from the movie was a way better move then this. Especially since the show reflects that 2010 Ohio, dismisses sexual assault towards women about as much as the 1980's.

If they didn't want to get into the nitty gritty of that fine, but should of replaced it with Chandler decideing to flat out humilate Veronica.

Here we can see the show starting to get rid of the aspects of Chandler's character that might make her too controversal to modern audiences. Which we'll come back to that later.

So Veronica is freaking out when JD comes into her room with the offer of " Lets snort aderall, make out and get slushies." Which ok terrible line but Veronica is sold somehow.

Also we're introduced to the fact Kurt is gay now which. Also get back to that later.

So JD and Veronica flirt and JD brings Nazi shit that was his dads to Heather Chandlers house. Also poisen pills get mentioned he grabbed by mistake.

They take a pic of her wearing a Nazi hat and wake her up. JD offers to give her the pic if she downs a bag of corn nuts which they laced and you know how this goes. Chandler dies because the prank stuff got swaped with the deadly stuff.

Fake suicide note, now a video yada yada.

And i'll do a part 2 because this was really long.

[loveshotzz]

POSTED

🌇 chapter four <-

(older!eddie manip by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

This is the chapter that sparked it all 🧡 So in honor of that, a snippet below the cut. (Enjoy the little easter egg of older!eddie from @carolmunson ‘s Orange Colored Sky 😉)

The string lights of his front porch catch in your sight while the sounds of Eddie Money echo down the quiet hitting your ears. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You slow your pace when you get close enough to smell the smoke of his cigar, and hear the deep baritone of his full belly laugh. Another voice chimes in, it’s raspier, darker and definitely not a woman’s. The unruly pang of jealousy that hits your gut subsides when you reach your apartment and he finally comes into view.

His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, the gray and honey highlights sticking out at the ends like he’s spent the whole night running those big hands through it. His cheeks are flushed with what looks like the end of a fun day with friends, a half smoked cigar tucked between his teeth that show themselves in a wide grin for the man sitting on his porch steps next to him.

He leans on the top step by his elbows, your thighs pressing together when the silver chain that’s usually hidden under his shirt swings over the soft blue tee that fits tight across chest when he laughs again. His cream jeans are loose fitting, stretching at his thighs with dark gray house slippers on his feet.

The guy next to him is not who you’d expect to find, he looks around the same age, gray streaks shining under the porch light in the dark curls that rest tied back in a loose low hanging bun. His chocolate eyes shine with excitement while ring and tattoo covered hands gesture wildly with his story, the ash at the end of his cigar is dangerously close to falling onto the wood of the porch.

Steve picks up the ashtray between the two glasses of a dark liquor like it’s second nature, lifting it up for his friend, making you notice the silver chain that dangles around his wrist when he takes the offering. He’s dressed in all black, a contrast to the light colors of Steve’s wardrobe with a pressed Judas Priest band tee that sits half tucked into the tops of his Chino shorts that fall right above his knee. Black socks and black slides covering his feet.

Bandit’s the first to notice you from his spot on the giant rug by the front door when you reach the gate. His ears perk as he sits up, paws dropping one after the other in excitement. A high pitch whine escapes him catching Steve’s attention. He plucks the cigar from his mouth looking at Bandit before finally following the dog’s line of sight to you. There was no getting out of this now.

You feel like you won some kind of prize at the size of Steve’s smile, lopsided with rosy cheeks pushed up and eyes crinkling in the corners. He sets his cigar down, ignoring the confused look his friend is giving him before sitting up running a hand through his hair making it stand on end.

“She’s alive!” He does his best impression of Dr. Frankenstein sticking his arms out in front of him and you see the man next to him grimace before taking a puff and turning his attention on to you. Curious dark eyes watch Steve and Bandit go to meet you at the gate.

“Yes, I somehow survived.” You can’t help but giggle making the man on the porch shoot his eyebrows up. All the nerve you worked up on the way here is gone when your neighbor gets close enough to see the stubble you liked so much is back.

“I hope the Au Cheval burger helped with that.” He breaths with a smirk, his eyes landing on the to go box that’s threatening to succumb to the iron grip in your hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

Too caught up in how his eyes seem to light up when he asks, it takes you a minute to register that he’s talking about the fish tacos in your hand.

“Oh!! - Sorry - Yes, I didn’t know you had company tonight. I have cannolis in my bag too, I don’t wanna interrupt anything - I can, I can just leave them with you.” Bandit jumps onto the gate while you stutter your words suddenly feeling sixteen again, the feeling of his friend's stare making you shuffle around in place.

Steve opens his mouth ready to protest but he’s interrupted before he gets a chance to say anything.

“Harrington! You gonna invite the pretty girl up for a drink or what?”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you busy yourself with scratching Bandit behind the ear with a free hand. Steve lets out a breath through his nose before pinching the bridge of it. His ears turning red like the cherries on the ends of the cannoli’s in your bag.

“Sorry about my friend,” He takes another beat before he looks up, his eyes smoldering against yours, hope hidden inside the golden specks. “I was going to actually ask you if you’d like to come up for a drink, I promise he’s harmless. He met his wife shopping at Trader Joe’s.”

[away-ward]

Related to asked and answered 151, for Winter.

*Disclaimer: these are my thoughts and opinions and are in no way meant to be asserted as fact or canon. Thank you.

When I hear ballerina, I'm sure like most of you, I think pink and tulle. I do imagine she'd prefer a lot of softer clothing, partly because she as a soft vibe, but also because she'd be acutely aware of how things feel against her skin.

PD's pinboard did help flesh out some ideas that I had, sometimes confirming the direction my mind was already heading in.

I think my biggest take away from PD's board is that Winter...doesn't like clothes?

Regardless, I headcanon her style to lean more feminine than the other three. Softer colors, such as blues and pinks with white. Similar to the uniform skirt, I imagined her liking short skirts as well as items that have details like bows, lace, and tulle.

If not wearing a skirt, I think Winter would like skinny jeans the best.

I remember in KS, Damon commenting on her boots, and while I also thought that was PD trying to make Winter "darker" to fit the aesthetic, I tried to look at what that would mean for Winter's style. It could be a subtle sign rebellion and Winter's natural style picking through. So, there might be a balance between the super soft feminine look I was picturing. She might have an overall style that highlights her soft femineity, and she has a slight edginess that wasn't able to come through before she stepped away from the control of her family expectations.

I don't think she'd stick to just basic colors like black and white. The balance would be the style of clothing along with the softer colors, like blues, pinks, and neutrals. But black is a staple in all of their wardrobes, so it's probably featured heavily in hers as well.

Like all the skirts above, I think she likes her dresses short and A-line, so they pop a little at the waist. She'd like girly details, like bows, mesh, and lace, and a softer color pallet, but with a slight alternative twist occasionally.

One thing I do HC for Winter specifically is thigh high socks. Maybe because she's a dancer and dancers use leg warmers, but also she's go the legs for it.

And I remember her wedding dress being white feathers, which pinterest thinks is either one of these. If I had to pick, I'd go for the left. I think on her wedding day, she gets fancy and princess-y, but the right would be more practical for her.

Now for Damon, there's one picture on PD's pinboard that has overtaken my idea of what he wears (not that my image of his style was very strong before).

Do you see where I'm going with this?

But don't worry. He also has a more everyday style. I mean, he did wear all those jeans and shirts that Bank inherited in the past.

Thanks for waiting for me to finish. Winter and Damon are the most difficult for me to imagine, so it took a while to figure out how I wanted to present my idea. Let me know if you agree or if you have an entirely different idea of her style.

[respectthepetty]

Make Shin Suffer for 35 Minutes!

Full disclosure: I like Guide. He is a good actor, but I like him aesthetically because he is beauty and grace, and I am desperately in love with his face, so my thoughts on Bake Me Please have always been biased meaning . . .

I loved the Bake Me Please special episode!

Shin is still a Black Brooder and a jerk.

And Guy is still fine and the obvious better choice.

But Shin is very much in love with his Blue Boy Peach and has started incorporating Peach's color into his wardrobe.

However, on the day he is finally able to see Peach due to Peach's busy schedule, our Black Brooder decides to wear pink! Because he is very much in love with Peach, and Peach picked this shirt for him.

But Blue Boy Peach doesn't give one eff and tells Shin to change back into his normal black then abruptly leaves.

Shin is worried Peach no longer loves him, but Atom assures Shin that Peach is very much in love with him, so much in fact that it makes Atom sick to his stomach.

But the entire friend group does suggest that perhaps Shin's boring ass personality is to blame for Peach's distance since Shin tends to bore them to death every single damn day.

So Shin sits on that honest truth, and with some convincing from his friends, he decides to surprise Peach.

He asks Peach if he is doing something on the 17th, which happens to be Shin's birthday, and Peach replies that day is a very important day.

Now, Shin is all kinds of excited as he bakes a Torta Caprese highlighted by the blue background for his Blue Boy.

But Peach doesn't show up claiming to be somewhere else celebrating someone else since Shin said he didn't want to do anything for his birthday, so we flashback to the boys asking what Peach wants to give Shin for his birthday, and he states he wants to sleep with Shin.

The entire table is shooketh by this way-too-much-information truth!

But what Peach means is he wants to sleep with Shin every night in their bed in their home as in he wants to move in with Shin. Once Atom fully recovers from the scary thought of someone wanting to have sex with Shin, he immediately questions his friend's sanity by reminding him that Shin is, well, Shin, and who the hell would want to willingly live with Shin? (remember that his brother had a crush on Shin, so Atom is definitely holding grudges, and I love it)

Then, Atom proceeds to list all of Shin's shitty quality WITH supporting examples.

And tries one more time to help his friend see the light before he ends up married to this man with a mortgage, a kid, and a dog named Ruffles. *shudders at the thought*

But Peach is Peach and double downs on his BIG feelings for Shin, so the guys decide to help Peach be less weak for that jerk and devise a plan to make Shin suffer for reasons that I think are totally valid since they just want to see Shin in pain which who wouldn't?, but they do this under the guise of forcing Shin to see how much he wants Peach around.

But the problem is Peach is ready to cave the second Shin texts him.

The guys know how to handle this and take Peach's phone away and threaten him to stay strong so they can all reap the benefits of watching Shin possibly cry.

It's a constant battle, but the boys remain steadfast in their goal of making Shin pay for all the shit he put them (AND ME) through for six episodes.

But I do appreciate that Peach recognized how fine Shin looked in that pink!

Finally, the big day is here, and Shin is peak Sad Boy energy and probably listening to Drake's "In My Feelings" on repeat, so, of course, the fam is ecstatic and very pleased that their plan to make Shin lay on the floor in the fetal position worked in Peach's favor!

But they pull one more stunt and decide to change the writing on Peach's cake to say "I'll give you a good time tonight" instead of "I want to live together" which would have matched Shin's cake.

Basically, they are doing the Lord's work!

And everybody wins including my light x dark duo!

But especially the audience because we deserved to see Shin miserable for 35 minutes, and we also deserved to see Shin lift Peach on that counter, and . . . eff it! Just enjoy the visual.

And I'll enjoy my Oab x Guy crumb.

I needed this, and I deserved it!

[mickgaydolenz]

highlights of mike’s commentary on i’ve got a little song here:

again mike ad nauseam asserting how confused he was, how little creative input he had, etc, etc

mike says a lot of the directors they had direct the show were originally commercial directors which lent to the unique way in which the show was framed

he says that the idea that actors would return to play multiple villains was a conscious decision they had made when they started filming the show

mike says the narratives in the episodes were never really that important, what WAS important was the kinetic energy they had, the spontaneity, and they would purposefully encourage them to break continuity. mike says it got very hard for them to keep that up as the show went on

mattel made their unicyles! mike says they had these dinky training wheels on the back that essentially did nothing and actually made them much harder to ride 😂

according to mike he was the reason they got their iconic 8 button shirts. he says he was talking with gene about their wardrobe and had asked if he could have a shirt made that was similar to the shirts john wayne wore in westerns 😂. mike said there was also a warehouse(?) where they kept a bunch of costumes from other films etc and gene would often take him there and let him choose pieces that would be taken in to fit mike

mike really hated the jc penny fashion, thought it was super bizarre

this is the episode where he talks about micky coming up with the rack of clothes!!! mike was meeting a car dealer in one of the empty offices and gene had sent micky (whether the two of them devised this plan together is unclear) up with a rack of like 30 blue jeans and jean shirts and just burst in asking mike if he was ready to select his wardrobe for the day 😂. mike is very amused telling this story :)

mike talks about his black pontiac gto for a bit, and how it also had tinted windows (one of the first cars to do so at that time) and he would frequently get stopped by the police because of it. he ultimately concludes that the car was a sexy beast….

he also expresses his continued bafflement at how people found it so hard to grasp the fact that any of them could be talented artists in their own right despite being put together as a plastic group.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Name: Celosia Ariti (thanks @jinxthejubilee for the name idea, I like it!)

Nicknames: Sia (mostly goes by that by everyone), Cel-Phone, Emo-Girl, Blue Lady (all by outsiders)

Birthday: June 27th

Age: 21

Height: 5'5

Appearance: Sia has very pale skin, almost sickly pale, long wavy black hair dyed many shades of blue usually done up in a pony tail, large down turned hazel eyes that usual mimics the appearance of golden yellow, a blue and black ink tattoo of a burning rose on her rib cage going up to her shoulder and neck, she usual is wearing pretty dark makeup and lots of piercings on her ears

Clothing: She has a large wardrobe of many styles but usual wears black leggings with black high heeled boots and a cropped top short sleeved navy blue hoodie, or a light blue or yellow white button up shirt with said leggings and boots or a blue skirt of any kind from fluffed out cute to professional pencil skirt with gradient fading blue thigh highs under

Personality: Much like who she's based off of she's very mature among the others, vert stern but knows when to let lose and be fun unlike Wilhelm who needs to loosen up before having fun. Sia's very sarcastic and somewhat kindly teasing if you know her so well pass the stone cold wall face she has. She's what one could call the "parent" of the group, making sure others are safe and fed, has a fiery protective related temper when pushed to her limit and lets hope you prey-

Schooling: 2nd year of college, Business Major

Likes: Iced coffee, spread sheets, Latin music, games, yoga, Hot Topic, Claire's, pastitsio, horror movies, true crime podcasts, theater, a clean home, chocolate, Netflix, horoscope, her company, diamond necklaces, online shopping, Dior, Chanel, Prada, Louis Vuitton purses, multi-colored highlighters, red wine, tacos, bubble baths

Dislikes: Cheaters, sexism, misogynists, racists, being called emo, losing her stuff, thieves, cheesy romance cliches, losing her files or papers, mess, when people eating with their mouth open, Tinder, musicals

Abilities: Cooking, singing, computer and paper work, kick boxing, reading the room easy

Story: Sia was born the second child-oldest daughter of a rich family originating from Athens, Greece that moved to America in the 90's. She, like her older brother and little sister, grew up smart and beautiful with good social skills and seemingly perfect in match.

This led her to be courted at 17 by a boy from a similar rich family as her's and she quickly fell for him and the two quickly got engaged after dating for 6 months with plans to be wed after the next year. However, sadly, plans changed when she discovered her little sister who was freshly 18 and her fiance was having an affair and her family spoiled her rotten and let them get married without comforting poor Sia who was heart broken and wounded deeply.

When delivering a paper to her ex-fiance's family work place sometime after the break up she gets her attention caught by a man named Aidon Pluton who works a company connected to the ex-fiance's family business that makes bank and was thinking of joining and merging businesses with the Ariti business, and during that meaning he mentioned he wants Sia to work along side him as an assistance and protege with him paying for all her college funds and whatnot if she wants to go. The family agreed and Sia was sent to living in a beautiful home owned by Aidon she can live freely in, through work and his kindness to her he helped her vent out all her bottled up anger of her family and ex-fiance as he understand how siblings can be and helps her work hard to prove herself as well as helping her grow.

Name Meanings: Celosia - Greek for "burning flame" Ariti - Greek for "someone who's friendly"

Ms Hades' done!