#also the square one says ‘eat ass’

[borom1r]

it’s Bean!!!!!! a sparklerat ‘sona bc cringe is dead so literally why not make a sick as fuck scene fursona?

i love him im so proud of hiiiiiiiiimmmm idk what else 2 say

EDIT some of his kandi are actual flags!! for funsies!!

(base by asher-grimm + bg by miyuthescenekid)

[hauntingblue]

Toranaga's son is so funny. Failson 🫵🏻

[playnextdoor]

dating modern abby headcannons

cw: both sfw and nsfw

Abby didn’t know naps could be a luxury until she met you. She was always on her feet, never stopping long enough to close her eyes for a "weak" 30 minutes. But now? That quick nap became her personal slice of heaven. Her cranky, sleep-deprived self would curl up next to you, her face buried in your neck. By the time she woke, she’d be all sunshine, grinning like she hadn’t just been grumbling an hour ago.

Sweet tooth!!!!!!! She loves sweets, especially dark chocolate. If you ever peek into her bedside drawer, you’ll find a nearly demolished chocolate bar waiting for her nightly ritual.

“What?” she says with a shrug, stuffing a square into her mouth. “I like a piece of chocolate before bed,” Her eyebrows furrow as she chews, eyeing you like you’re judging her life choices.

“Nothing,” you chuckle, watching her puffed cheeks work overtime. “I never met anyone who would do that.”

Her arms crossed immediately, mock-offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh my god, Abigal, nothing, it’s cute.” You lean in, silencing her pout with a kiss, the faint bitterness of chocolate lingering on her lips.

Abby has a thing for books. Not just reading them—collecting them. We’re talking first editions, special releases, and rare overseas copies. This girl gets down. Her study practially a library, shelves nearly touching the ceiling filled with books, some on display and some in special casings. You even catch her one day, headphones blasting as she carefully and meticulously cleaned some of the books. The music was so opposite to what she was doing, her hands handling the covers so carefully. Instantly wet holyyyyyy

This goes with her being veryyyy clean and organized. It was so cute when you snooped in her drawers, her undergarments folded up so neatly in rows, and her socks in perfect little squares. 

She likes her space, which you understood very early in the relationship. Sometimes, the two of you would be on separate ends of the couch, her playing some game on the TV while you color in your coloring books, or when she would carve out days for the two of you and then days for just her. She loved you dearly, and it was just that she needed the only time to recharge.

Really into speakeasies. It’s her preferred place to grab a drink with you. The dim lighting, quiet atmosphere, and cozy corners make it her ideal date spot. She also likes sitting with you in some dimly lit corner, you more tipsy than her, laughing hysterically at some awful joke she said. If you really wanted to go to a club and shake ass, you bet Abby is going to take you, but she’s just gonna stand behind you like an awkward teenage boy getting grinded on for the first time.

This girl is not big on PDA, sorry not sorry. She’ll hold your hand, wrap her arm around you, maybe a kiss here and there, but she will most likely shy away from anything else, not that she’s embarrassed, she prefers to keep things just for you and her.

Food is Abby’s love language! Loves cooking, loves trying new places, loves eating, period. How else do you think she keeps her physique?

Speaking of muscles, the gym is practically her second home. She’s not a gym rat per se, but she’s got a solid routine, especially when it comes to upper body days. She loves how her arms look in T-shirts, but she loves that you love them even more.

Keys clanked into the trinket dish as Abby slipped off her shoes. Just getting back from the gym, all she is thinking about is going straight to the shower; once wet with sweat, her shirt feels disgusting on her. She sees you eyeing her from the kitchen, occasionally looking up from your phone, eyes lingering on her bulging arms; the pump did her good today because you’re ready to strip naked right there. She flashes a knowing smile as she puts her things away. She strides towards you, coming next to you to place a kiss on your head.

“How was the gym?” turning off your phone to provide her the full attention she most definitely deserved, hand creeping to caress the veins that littered down her forearms all the way up to the hard muscle on her bicep, squeezing it.

Abby just watches you, smile bitten back as you look almost in awe at how fucking massive her arms are, your sweet eyes meeting up to hers.

“Good,” she murmurs, watching your fascination. Her voice drops, low and teasing. “Something on your mind?”

“Mmm,” you hum, nails raking lightly over her back. She groans softly, and you know exactly where this is going.

nsfw

Boobs. Loves boobies. Likes to look at them, have them in her hands, in her mouth. Sure, she appreciates your ass—who wouldn’t? But there’s just something about slipping your nipple into her mouth, especially in those early morning hours. The sensation wakes you in a frenzy, loving how Abby does this for herself. Or when the two are cuddling, she’ll sometimes lay her face in them, the warmth of your scent lulling her to sleep.

Pronebone is her favorite position aside from missionary. Any time and any day, she is tightening the straps and fucking you into the mattress.

Speaking of tightening straps, the first time you did it, Abby nearly came, hips stuttering as she felt the firm tug of your hand tightening one of the straps that sat at her hip. Lord have mercyyy just thinking about how she would just pant above you, her golden hair cascading around your face like a curtain. Her hips moved against yours in a rhythm so devastatingly slow hnghhhhhhh

Stone top AT FIRST. She told you right before your first time together, you didn’t mind, genuinely. You have always been on both the receiving and giving end, so you were willing to be open for your girlfriend. And fuck how much it turned you on when Abby would slip a hand in her own pants as she ate you out, nearly heaving into you as you both came. It wasn't until a couple of months into the relationship that you asked.

Grinding down on her jean-clad thigh, the rough seam pressed perfectly against your cunt, drawing out a needy whimper that matched the low groans spilling from Abby’s lips. Her soft “mhm’s” spurred you on, the delicious friction pulling the two of you deeper.

Abby didn’t know what shifted in her—it might have been when you slid to your knees with a slow, deliberate grace, your nails dragging down her thighs. Her body moved instinctively, thighs spreading wide as if something had taken over her.

Or maybe it was when you pressed your cheek near where you needed her the most. Her hand came to caress your head, finding it so endearing how eager you had been all night, your fingers lingering for just a second longer, lips finding solace in her neck as you murmured how bad you needed her. She should have known you were going to beg eventually.

“Abby, please.”

You didn’t even need to elaborate, eyes were locked on the belt still fastened at her waist, the buckle catching the light and taunting you. Her own gaze, glossy and heavy with want, flickered down to meet yours.

Fuck. How could she possibly say no?

She can get rough if you would like, but she prefers to cuddlefuck than to fuck you upside down and sideways.

This goes back to the pronebone position, something you didn’t even know had a name until you tried explaining it to Abby in a very clumsy, very horny way. After that, Abby does it at least once when you guys have sex.

She’ll have your face down, your elbows digging into the bed as she fucked your leaking cunt with two thick fingers. Abby always took her time, kissing up the curve of your ass, her lips soft and warm against your heated skin. When she finally slipped her fingers out, you’d whimper in protest, only for her strong hands to press you further into the bed, spreading you open as her groan mingled with yours. The blanket so warm underneath you, mixing with the weight of her body and hands on you, have you in such a blissful haze.

“Yeah?” Abby asked, her voice low and breathless. You could barely process what she was saying, too lost in the feeling, but you nodded eagerly into the pillow, pushing your ass higher in response.

Chuckling, she sat perched on the backs of your thighs, holding you in place as she made your body tremble with anticipation. Sliding up and down with the tip of her black 6 1/2-inch faux cock it only makes you wiggle around impatiently. With a teasing pinch to your thigh to remind you to relax she finally shifts, pushing its length into you so slow you nearly grab it to put it in yourself. The stretch had your whimpers climbing into desperate, high-pitched cries muffled by the pillows. The pillows do what you need them to do because if you remove them, people will think someone is dying in there. Well, kind of, don't the french say orgasm means "tiny death"? Yeah that was happening.

Prefers if you orgasm first. She claims her own release isn't as satisfying when you don't.

“I dunno, Abby.”

The words escaped in a soft gasp as you abruptly sat up. Abby’s lips popped off your mound, glossy and parted, her wide eyes locking on yours in utter confusion. “I can’t…”

Her brows furrowed, her head tilting slightly as if to ask why in the world you’d stop her now. “Can’t what?” she asked, inching closer like she didn’t plan on letting you go anywhere.

“Cum,” you admitted, pushing her head away gently, though you both knew she wouldn’t take kindly to it.

Sure enough, she shook your hand off and gave you a look that could only be described as determined.

“Stop. Lay your ass down."

Before you could protest, she scoots you closer, which causes you to fall back into the mattress, her lips finding the inside of your thighs, skin slightly tacky from her spit and your slickness.

“No, like actually,” you said again, sitting up despite her best efforts to keep you in place, your legs starting to close instinctively.

Abby pouts, and you can’t help but mimic her expression because this poor girl has been following you around like a lovesick puppy ever since you got home from work, clearly bored and horny, while you were too stressed and tired to even think about anything else. She was all smooth with it, too, claiming she was going to “put you to bed,” but your head was still spinning with thoughts of annoying coworkers and unfinished tasks. You were too far in your own head to focus on the woman between your legs who was clearly trying to help.

Her warm hands found your shoulders, pressing with that unique weight only she carried, her thumbs kneading gently. The gesture softened you immediately.

“We can totally stop, it's just..." Her lips find yours in a gentle yet hungry kiss, her teeth nipping then soothing it with the wet of her tongue. You nearly moaned into her mouth, your body betraying every word you were about to say. “I have been wanting to taste you all fucking day. I know you had a shit day, but please, baby, I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you don’t come on my face”

You couldn’t help it; you burst into laughter, and Abby froze, staring at you ???????

“Oh, you’re serious,” you managed between fits of giggles, your eyes watering as you met her utterly unamused glare.

Two minutes of laughing later, Abby had had enough. With a firm nod, she launched herself forward, tackling you onto the bed and pinning you beneath her. Her body weight pressed you into the mattress, her lips hovering over yours, and you could see that look in her eyes that she was really going to put you to bed this time.

a/n: this sucks butt lol but i hope you all enjoy still.

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: After a beer pong challenge gone horribly wrong (or right, if you're Gareth), Eddie has to shave his head. As much as you'll miss his signature curls, you have to admit that his new look isn't all that bad...

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), drinking, beefy!Eddie, mention of Eddie's weight gain, Eddie + Reader are both 25, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v

Based on a request by @josephquinnsfreckles and a conversation with @blueywrites about the lengths we'd go to for beefy!Eddie.

Divider credit to @saradika

It was all Gareth’s idea. 

Gareth had been the one to crack open a Pabst can and make a snarky remark about knowing he could beat Eddie in beer pong. 

Had been the one to say that Eddie had gotten soft in the five years since graduation, to which Eddie winked at you and replied, “I think my girl would say the opposite.” 

Had been the one to up the ante with a “little bet.”

You shot Eddie a warning look that he ignored, opting instead to meet Gareth’s challenge. “Fine. When I win, you gotta let me pierce your eyebrow.”

“Okay,” Gareth rolled his eyes, “but when I win, you have to shave your head.”

At the same time as you blurted out, “absolutely not,” Eddie grinned and said, “you’re on.”

Jeff laughed from his spot on the couch. “Thank God. You’ve had the same haircut since, what? Ninth grade?”

“Eddie,” you hissed, pulling him over to the side. “You can’t get rid of your hair.”

Your boyfriend had shrugged nonchalantly as though the state of his beautiful brown curls didn’t depend on a drinking game. “Relax, babe.” He pulled you into his side. “He’s never beaten me in beer pong. None of these losers have.”

That’s why you now find yourself stationed outside of the bathroom in Grant’s apartment, too afraid to glimpse at the commotion inside. The sound of the electric buzzer was bad enough. 

The guys are all blissfully oblivious to your turmoil; even Eddie is cackling and asking Gareth to give him a mohawk. You can only assume that he obliged once you hear the four men erupt into a round of raucous laughter. 

“Last piece,” Gareth goads, a muffled zzzzzz coming from the buzzer as he presses it into Eddie’s scalp. “Aaaaand…done!”

Done. 

All of Eddie’s hair now lay on the tile floor, because he lost a bet to Gareth Emerson.  

The hair that he pulled back into a low bun before working on his motorcycle. The hair that you twirled around your forefinger whenever he kissed you. The hair that you loved weaving your fingers into as he kneeled before you, leaving teasing kisses along your inner thighs before devouring you.

If you had known he would be bald at the end of the night, you would’ve begged to let his hair tickle between your legs once more. 

“Whaddya think, babe?” Eddie peeks around the corner. His eyes, hazy from a night of drinking, stare into yours. Even drunk, he still seeks out your approval. 

Too bad you’re speechless. 

You’ve become accustomed to Eddie’s various metamorphoses. When you first met Eddie, he was lanky, only relying on assorted snacks and copious amounts of Mountain Dew. It was how he’d survived all of those years of food insecurity. And while you loved his body then, nothing could have prepared you for how he looked just two short years later. 

His biceps now hold muscle and softness; you often find yourself unable to risk the temptation of biting into them. His stomach has also acquired a slight heft, a pleasant side effect from eating three square meals a day. His jeans now cling to the curve of his ass and no longer require a belt. 

But his hair? That had always stayed the same:curls that frizzed at the first sign of humidity, worn like a badge of honor. You couldn’t picture him without it. 

If you had, there’s no way you could have imagined him looking so damn sexy. 

Eddie laughs at your shell-shocked expression, your widened eyes and dropped jaw. “That bad, Sweetheart?”

“No…’s good. Really, um, good.” Your throat is suddenly dry, and you swallow just so you don’t cough. “Can I feel it?”

He nods, and you brush your fingers over his bare scalp. Your touch is met with a soft fuzziness that was never there before. 

Long-haired Eddie looked wild and chaotic, a Tasmanian Devil of a man. But buzzed-haired Eddie looks tough. Strong. Like he’ll destroy any other man who dares look at you. 

And it makes you absolutely primal. 

“I think we broke her,” Grant whispers loudly, and the rest of the room breaks out into tipsy giggles, slapping at each other and stumbling back into the kitchen for more ill-advised drinking.

Eddie frowns, not able to read your expression. “It’ll grow back,” he says, one ringed hand rubbing your back. He lets his fingers linger on the curve of your ass and gives it an inconspicuous pinch.

“C’mere.” You take advantage of the guys’ distractedness and pull Eddie into the nearest bedroom. The moment the door shuts and the lock clicks, you’re pressing your lips to his. On instinct, his denim-clad leg slots between yours, creating a hint of friction against the seam of your own jeans.  

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” His words are muffled by the barrage of kisses. “Can’t just clobber me like this; gonna get me all worked up.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” You drag your forefinger up his fly, relishing in the way his cock is already beginning to harden. 

Eddie practically throws you onto the bed, his biceps flexing with the sudden movement. “Gotta make this quick, yeah? Don’t want those idiots interrupting us.” With that, he tugs your pants away from your body, practically tearing off your cotton panties along with it. 

“Oh, honey,” he coos, dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed and throwing his head back. “You’re already soaked.” He smirks before nipping at the soft flesh of your thighs, alternating between kisses and bites. “All this from a little haircut?”

All you can do is nod, leaning back so he can wrap his arms around your upper legs and fully bury his face into your weeping cunt. “Mmph,” he moans against you. You reflexively reach down to grab onto his locks, stopping when you’re met with his newly buzzed hair. Instead, you pull him in closer until his nose nudges your clit. 

You say his name on an exhale, your pussy clenching around nothing as his pointer and middle fingers part your folds. You’re spread open for him, a blank canvas for him to create art. “Inside. Please.”

He might be inclined to make you beg further, but the threat of his buddies banging on the door has him relenting quickly.     

Eddie’s grip on you tightens and his fingernails leave crescent-shaped divots. A breath catches in your lungs, your mind blanking when he greedily laps up your arousal and plunges his tongue into your hole. 

His groans vibrate against you. “So much easier without my hair in the way.” He pulls back to catch his breath, his chin already shining. Brown doe eyes peer up at you, once again waiting for you to approve. 

“K-Keep going,” you mumble, only acutely aware of the party occurring in the adjacent room. “Need you so bad it hurts.”

“Don’t want my sweet girl hurting.” The pad of Eddie’s thumb makes small, concentric circles on your clit, making your whole lower body tense up in anticipation of your orgasm. “There we go. No need to pout.”

Your back arches when he dives back in. He maintains his rhythm, inhaling deeply when the bulb of his nose brushes against that sweet spot. Pleasure is right within your reach, your hips moving in tandem with his ministrations to chase that glorious high. 

It isn’t as though Eddie has ever been bad at oral; you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come on his tongue. But now that he doesn’t have to constantly shake his hair from his eyes—now that he has an unobstructed view of just where to touch you—he hits each stroke with perfect precision. 

“Eddie—holy sh-shit, Eddie—right there right there right fucking there!” Your release crashes over you faster than it ever has before. It’s as though Eddie has transported you to another planet, another galaxy, another universe, and you will yourself to float back down just to reciprocate the pleasure he’s given you. 

His pants button is already undone, hidden behind an oversized Metallica t-shirt, your fingers finding the hint of pudge on his lower tummy. “One of my old pairs,” he says sheepishly. 

They’re gone in a flash, along with his pre-cum stained boxers. He climbs on top of you, hard cock in his fist, and runs it through the mixture of saliva and arousal at your core. 

“‘M not gonna last long,” Eddie murmurs, locking his gaze with yours. He’s not embarrassed; he’s proud that he can bring himself to the edge just by eating out his girl. 

You can’t stop the scream that emanates from your throat when he pushes inside you, but you also can’t be bothered to care about anyone else hearing. All of your thoughts center around Eddie filling you wholly and the sacrifices you’d make to keep him inside you forever. 

He punctuates each thrust with an animalistic grunt, taking as much as he can with every snap of his hips. “My…good…girl,” he pants. “My…good…fuckin’…girl.”

“All yours. All yours, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes roll back as you submit yourself to him. “Gonna come. Gonna come inside you, fuck, Sweetheart!” With one final movement, he spills into you. 

You cry out his name once more, letting your hand fall to the small love handle just above his hip bone. Another one of your favorite places to bite, especially when you could sneak up on him and catch him off-guard. 

He flops down, his fuzzy head tickling your jaw as he nuzzles into your neck. “The buzzcut really does it for ya, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

--

[zepskies]

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you? 

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair. 

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too! 

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil. 

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to— 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile. 

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe. 

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.  

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.  

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new. 

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.      

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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[holylulusworld]

Extreme tight places (4) - Kinktober 3

Summary: You’re stuck with a soulless Sam again.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Warnings: soulless!Sam being his asshole self, anal sex, smut, unprotected sex, degrading, creampie, voyeurism, outdoor sex, sex in front of others, violence, possessive soulless Sam, forced cum eating (not the reader)

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Anal sex

Square filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Square 18: Plot what plot?

Square filled for @spnkinkbingo 2022 (expired): Square 1: Anal Sex

Catch up here: Cramped (1) & Tight places (2) Very tight places (3)

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Sam! Sam, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You desperately try to drag Sam off a fellow hunter. You don’t like the hunter, but the last thing you need is rumors spreading that Sam Winchester killed another hunter. “Sam, please.”

“He tried to touch what’s mine!” Sam is like an animal. Not only because of his soullessness but also because the hunter tried to hit on you during a get-together to celebrate the life of a deceased hunter. “No one touches what’s mine.”

You huff. It’s not like you’re together or shit. Sam is simply obsessed with fucking you. There’s no love or even feelings between the two of you.

“SAMMY!” Dean and Cas finally come to your aid. They grab Sam by his arms and drag him off the hunter. “What the fuck!”

“He tried to grope my girl’s ass.” Sam tries to apologize that he tried to beat the life out of the man. “No one touches what’s mine, Dean. Not even you.”

“Sam, get your shit together,” Dean snaps at his brother. Lately, he’s struggling to see Sam as his brother. Death brought Sam’s soul back, but they are still trying to figure out how to turn the new version back into his former self.

Sam squares his jaw. “Let go of me, or you’ll get a taste of my strength too.” Dean shakes his head. The thing possessing his brother is so unlike the Sam he raised. “Y/N, come.”

He holds out his hand for you. You could tell him to fuck off because he flirted with one of the huntresses, but it would only cause Sam to go rampant and find a reason to fight with someone else.

“Sam,” you huff when he drags you toward the back of the place, away from the crowd. “Where are we going?”

“I need to fuck you,” he states, ignoring that you wiggle in his tight grip. “You need to feel it in your bones that your holes are all mine.”

“Says the guy flirting with some bitch moments ago. You’re only angry because the guy was nice to me.” You bite back.

He stops in his tracks to look you up and down. His eyes darken, and you bite your tongue. One wrong word and he fucks you right there, in front of everyone.

“He touched you,” he snarls. “I told her to go down on her knees and suck me off if she wants my help on a hunt.” Sam shrugs. “She was an uptight bitch. Not wet and soft like you.”

“What the—?” You can’t believe Sam sometimes. He tells you he wanted some bitch to suck him off after he almost beat a man to death because the hunter dared to talk to you. “You’re unbelievable!”

“I know, kitten,” he purrs and presses you against the wall. He slips one hand between your bodies to hastily unbutton your pants. Your eyes round. Sam can’t be serious. “That’s why you’re always so needy.”

“I hate you so much,” you argue, but don’t fight his hand slipping inside your pants to pinch your clit. “Sam, not here. Let’s go somewhere else.” You know Sam is pumped up and needs to release some steam. “Please.”

“I love it when you beg me.” He presses his lips to yours, swallowing the tiny moans escaping your lips. Sam smirks when you buck your hips, silently begging him for more. He hums against your lips as he slips his index finger inside your cunt. “Already so wet for me.”

“S-am,” you whimper against his lips. “Pl-ease. Somewhere else.”

“I want them to know you’re mine,” he growls and removes his hand. You don’t argue. Fighting with Sam is a lost cause. Instead, you let him grab your hand and guide you out of the bar.

Sam leads you toward a car you don’t recognize. He twirls you around to bend you over the hood. Sam rips your still unbuttoned jeans down your legs, taking your panties with it.

“That’s how I like you.” He slaps your ass, roughly groping your globes. If you weren’t in a parking lot, he’d spank your ass raw tonight. “Always so ready to take my cock.”

Sam uses his large hand to spread your ass-cheeks. He smirks when you wiggle in his grip. You know he wants to prove your ass belongs to him. Literally. A warm liquid hits the crack of your ass, making you whimper. “Oh, kitten. This ass is mine.” He hums. “It opens up like a slutty hole to me.”

“Sam, not here,” you try one last time, but Sam throws the empty bottle of lube over his shoulder. He unzips his pants and slaps his cock against your ass.

“You’ll let me fuck this tight asshole and take it like a good slut. Maybe I’ll let you cum this time too.” Sam laughs when you hiss his name. He ignores you’re angry at him for flirting with the other woman. While you lie on the car, giving in to his demands once again, he runs his hard cock up and down the crack of your ass to get lube all over his massive erection. “You’re my whore.”

He presses the tip inside, making you hiss. It’s always a struggle to take Sam up your ass. At least he’s less impatient tonight and slowly inches his way inside. His hands grip your hips hard enough to hurt.

“Fuck, Sam…”

“Yeah, I’m going to fuck this hole open,” he growls like the possessive caveman he turns into when it comes to fucking you. “Watch me ruin her ass.”

You don’t have time to think about his words. Sam pushes you down onto the hood of the car and holds you there as he shoves the last inches inside. You’re panting because his massive cock feels good in your tightest hole.

“You’re an ass whore. I knew it.” Sam leans over your body to whisper in your ear. “Say it. Say, I’m Sam Winchester’s anal slut.”

“I’m—” you choke out a moan when Sam slowly starts pushing in and out of your ass. He barely moves his hips, only pressing his cock into you with short strokes, but you feel immense pleasure. You don’t know why, but no matter how Sam fucks you, it always feels good. “I’m Sam Winchester’s anal slut.” You breathe out, making Sam laugh.

“Yes, you are,” he pants in your neck while his hips mercilessly crash into your ass. “Always full of my cock, only mine.”

“Yes…”

“I bet you’ll cum like the whore you are with my big cock up your ass,” he taunts. “Right? You’ll squirt like a slut because you’re my anal whore.”

You should be ashamed. Sam is fucking your ass over the hood of someone else’s car. He calls you his whore, but you couldn’t care less. The bastard ruining your ass isn’t wrong. The pressure in your ass has you tethering on the edge of an orgasm.

He’s pounding you deep, hard, and fast. Sam groans in your ear, getting more excited. His desperate groans get you more excited. Your body is ready to give in to the pleasured pain. You whimper his name, telling him to cum inside of your ass.

And he just lets go, slamming one hand between your legs to swipe left, right, left, and right until you squirt all over his hand. “Perfect whore, isn't she?”

Sam pulls out, stepping away from the car to let whoever watched him fuck your ass watch his cum drip out of your gaping hole.

“Perfect hole.”

You try to catch your breath as you lie on the car. Total spend. Sam eagerly spreads your cheeks to look at his cum. He hums before thrusting one finger inside to scoop a large amount of his cum with his finger. “Come here and have a taste.”

“Dude, I’m good over here,” the man grunts. He’s holding his bruised ribs and glares at Sam. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but I’m out.”

“I said,” Sam growls in the man’s direction. “Come over here and have a taste. That’s what you wanted, right? To fuck my girl’s ass.”

“Sam?” You slowly get up from the car and pull your pants back up. You turn around to watch the man Sam punched earlier stand a few feet away. “What the fuck!”

“Buddy, if you ever get close to her ass again, you’re dead,” Sam smirks darkly. He wraps his hand around the man’s throat and forces his finger inside his mouth. “That’s the closest you’ll get to my girl’s ass. Now swallow like a good boy and get lost.”

“You found a way?” You whisper to not wake Sam. After the fucked-up stunt, he pulled his brother, knocked him out. “How can I help you?”

“You need to distract him. Stay inside the room until Death arrives. It’s only a few hours; Y/N. Sammy will be back soon,” Dean gives you an apologetic look. “I know you liked this one, but...”

“Not after tonight!” You hold up your hand. “He risked my safety, Dean. If that guy was a little more..." You sniffle. “If he knocked Sam out, it would’ve ended badly for me, Dean. If we can bring the normal Sam back, I’d do anything to help you.

Screams echo through Bobby's house. You press your hand to your ears and try to blend out that Sam is suffering inside Bobby’s panic room.

Death brought his soul back and finally found a way to get the old Sam back too.

If only it weren’t so painful...

“It’s going to be alright.” You look at Dean, nodding. You don’t know if he wants to convince you or himself. “It must…”

The screams abruptly end. Death slips out of the room. He ignores you and whispers something in Dean’s ear. “I know, we will be careful.”

You gave the brothers time and space to reunite, promising to stick around for the next case. The procedure was a success. Sam is back to his old self.

What Dean didn’t tell you before Death got to work was that Sam wouldn’t remember your time together. The truth is, Sam doesn’t remember anything after he jumped into the pit.

Maybe it’s for the best. What you let his soulless version do to you was something the old Sam would never understand.

“Y/N, hey.” You look up from your book when Sam calls your name. He leans in the doorframe, eyes glued to your exposed legs. “I heard you helped Dean while I was gone.”

“Uh-yeah. Kinda,” you lie. It’s all you can do. Death warned you and the others not to tell Sam what happened over the last months. If you do, the consequences will be dire.

“Hmm…” He pushes off the doorframe, stepping inside your motel room. Sam slams the door shut and hums as you flinch at the sudden motion. His eyes are softer, and his behavior changed, but the smirk creeping on his face is not different from his soulless version’s smirk. “I see, you liked riding my dick.”

“What? I—what?” You splutter. He can’t know. It’s impossible. Death said Sam won’t remember a thing.

“I can’t remember much, but the videos on my phone helped me. I must say, you have been a good little slut for me.” He laughs darkly as you stare at him like a deer in headlights. “How about we refresh my memory and you let me fuck that pretty cunt and ass again?”

Tags in reblog.

[laurrelise]

someone talk with me about an AU where delores is a real girl who somehow survived the initial apocalypse and spends it growing old with five and keeping him sane

someone talk with me about delores being five’s age when he discovers her body in the rubble and thinks she’s dead before he notices the small rise and fall of her chest before he pulls her out and desperately tries to help her breathe normally again and watches the life fill her eyes with tears in his own that he’s finally no longer alone

someone talk with me about delores being an only child to parents who she wasn’t close with leading her to become dependent on herself until she meets five and learns to trust other people before finding out about his huge family and doing everything in her power to help him not only because she cares about him and wants him to be happy but also because she wants to experience the family she’s never had

someone talk with me about how delores never had powers but survived for the 40+ years in the apocalyptic wasteland of the future due to her seriously genius mind (and five’s help) and lives to help five figure out how to save his family

someone talk with me about young five and delores searching for anything they can find to survive before they stumble upon a half-broken mannequin with a surprisingly intact polka-dotted blouse that five says would suit her so she puts it on out of boredom from looking for materials before five looks at her with the most genuine, in-love eyes she’s ever seen and she decides to keep it just for him

someone talk with me about five always making sure delores has a comfortable place to sleep, to rest, to eat, etc

someone talk with me about five explaining his childhood so nonchalantly one day once he realizes that he can trust delores to her surprise, and she asks why he suddenly had the strength to tell her and he looks her in the eyes and says “believe it or not, you’re stuck with me, and i’m stuck with you, and i want you to know who i am when we’re kicking this apocalypse in the ass”

someone talk with me about teenage five teaching teenage delores how to defend herself with the training he was given during his childhood but reassuring her that he’ll always be there to protect her if something were to happen (to which she reminds him that she appreciates it, but knows she can defend herself with the spite and sheer willpower she has to survive)

someone talk with me about five and delores having a makeshift wedding and five’s vows being along the lines of “even if the rest of the world was alive, i don’t think i could ever hope to find someone that makes me as truly happy as you do, and i will be eternally grateful that of anyone i could get stuck in this goddamn apocalypse with, it was always you, and it will always be you”

someone talk with me about the handler showing up from the commission to recruit five as a temporal assassin and delores as a case worker because they’re both dangerously smart and incredible at surviving in harsh conditions (also, the handler approached them separately to see where their loyalties lied and they both firmly explained they wouldn’t go anywhere without the other)

someone talk with me about delores getting fed up with the handler repeatedly making moves on five despite him clearly being uncomfortable until it bubbles to a climax and she punches her square in the jaw, which results in an ER trip and zero regret (plus five falling even harder in love with the woman who endlessly sticks up for him)

someone talk with me about five and delores plotting an escape plan to get back to 2019 which all goes well, except five had once again messed up the math (or so he thought) and he and delores are placed back in their 13 year-old bodies, but she confesses that she doesn’t mind seeing the boy she fell in love with all those years ago once again

someone talk with me about delores learning to trust and love the hargreeves just as much as five, as they learn to love and trust her just as much

someone talk with me about five always keeping track of dates and specifically remembering the exact times of significant events for himself and delores, like the moment she looked at him for the first time, the moment he knew he was in love with her, and the moment they decided they were going to stop at nothing to keep each other alive and stop the world from ending

someone talk with me about five and delores, the 58 year-old couple that they are, snuggling up on elliot’s couch together because they can’t fall asleep without the other one there to remind them that they’re safe and out of harm’s way (mostly)

someone talk with me about how delores has never been the type to step down, and she continues to stand her ground and be brutally honest when shes upset or wants five to listen to her, and he admires her bluntness (and frankly, needs it) due to his impatience and expectations of honesty at all times

someone talk with me about delores knowing exactly when five needs his time alone and stepping away to help his siblings as much as she possibly can, usually by encouragement or (again) brutal honesty hidden behind a kind and genuine smile

someone talk with me about five reminding delores of his love for her whenever it’s too quiet or he thinks she’s gone too long without him showing it, in every way he can think of, like letting her know that he would’ve lost his mind in the apocalypse without her (which.. he kind of did?), finding little things that remind him of her and bringing them to her, and holding her hand whenever he sees frustration or discomfort bubbling behind her eyes

[bratdotcom]

THE BOYS + THEIR GUILTY PLEASURES

( dethklok x reader - their favorite food(s) and how they share them with you )

NATHAN EXPLOSION

He loves cool ranch doritos, obviously

any other type of salty chip too

used to mix his fruit snacks with his fritos as a kid- didn't care if the other kids called him weird for it

would hand u a chip with crusty ass dorito fingers as an act of love

"I saved you a good one. Look." Nathan shows you a dorito shaped like a guitar pick. "Do you think they do this shit on purpose?" He asks with a gruff laugh, using his free hand to turn up the volume on the flatscreen.

Would let u put the food u don't like onto his plate he isn't picky

Nathan would probably consider eating ribs together as a proper date

goes absolutely wild when it comes to seasoning his ribs and goes all in when eating them

PICKLES THE DRUMMER

anything wrapped in cotton candy

and also bowls of mayo (his mom used to make them for dinner as shown in that one metalocalypse bts interview)

probably has the weirdest, most concerning food combos ever

he's also really good at making ramen chips

would probably try to impress you with how easily he can break a square of ramen noodles in half

Pickles looks at you crooked smile on his face. "Babe, watch this." He says confidently, pulling out a bag of ramen from his pocket. God knows how long that's been in there.

You watch with caution as the drummer fumbles with the packaging. His thumb runs up the seam that separates the ramen down the middle. With a snap, the ramen breaks perfectly in half. Not only were you impressed that he didn't get ramen crumbs all over the bed, but you were even more impressed seeing him open the flavor packet with his teeth

whenever he craves something he usually asks Jean-Pierre to make it

he doesn't mind shoving things into the microwave to heat them up either

would probably put an egg and some chili powder w/lime in his ramen and call it gourmet

SKWISGAAR SKWIGELF

He is a sweets FIEND

he always has at least some sweet thing on his plate during dinners at mordhaus

needs at least one piece of sugar-filled something to keep himself in check (either that or something with coffee)

speaking of coffee, his pockets usually have some sort of coffee candy wrapper in them

he thinks it's more convinent to eat coffee candy sometimes

he worries about getting it stuck in his teeth, though

You in the corner of your eye see something clink onto your plate.

Skwisgaar was trying his best to be discreet. The man tears a piece big enough for you to share onto the side of your plate, his hands underneath the table to keep his bandmates from noticing. All this work for a piece of frosted cinnamon bun.

"Thanks, babe." You say quietly enough for him to hear, for a moment he smiles at you. His smile quickly drops when one of his bandmates calls for his attention.

TOKI WARTOOTH

pancakes

specifically diner pancakes

they remind him of when he first came to America

back then, all he could afford was the breakfast meal at some diner

he doesn't even remember the name of it anymore, but he remembers how the pancakes tasted

and they tasted heavenly Toki has been trying to find out the recipe himself ever since

due to his limited knowledge in cooking, he often asks you to try the things he makes

Toki watches with a slight grimace on his face, an apron tied around his waist and his hair put up behind his ears in a low ponytail, spatula in hand. "Hows is it?" He asks, waiting for your reaction as you take a bite.

Seeing you go quiet makes Toki prepare for the worst. He holds onto the spatula in his hand tightly. "Yous enjoys it or..." Toki's too afraid of disappointing you to move. He waits for you to say something, anything about his cooking.

He quickly calms down as you eagerly pick at your plate for more, hearing you ask for more syrup makes him smile as he looks in the kitchen pantry.

you showing him the wonders of instant pancakes expanded his world, by the way

now he can share and eat pancakes wherever he wants ♡

WILLIAM MURDERFACE

deep fried oreos

William grew up surrounded by county fairs, he always looked forward to them because that meant he wouldn't be around his grandma (who was usually watching the racing pigs)

deep fried oreos are a comfort food for William

even though he doesn't like being reminded of his childhood in the slightest, he still remembers the fair food he ate fondly

"You uh, got somethin' on your face." He points out, even though you weren't exactly paying attention to him. Because Skwisgaar was busy practicing for a re-re-recording of his part of Dethklok's new album you offered to substitute for him.

That meant eating junk food and putting on the scariest, most gore-filled movie William could find. Says he's going "easy" on you by putting on a classic of the slasher genre. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The original, of course. Not the 2000s one.

He stiffens in place at the thought of him wiping away at that chocolate stain on the corner of your lips. Not because he didn't love you, no. But because he was scared he'd somehow ruin your time together. Maybe if he stuffs his face with more whip cream, he'd feel more confident just being in the room with you. Maybe.

William already assumes the worst when his thumb leaves the side of your cheek. He hears you laugh, he sees you smile. The corners of your lips turn up.

"Is that your bass playing hand?" You ask, turning away from the screen to look at him. The way you just...did that made him almost choke on his food. William clears his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, it is." He replies, as smooth as possible. He stiffens again when you shuffel closer to lay your head on his shoulder.

🤘 : LIKE THE FIC? VISIT DETHKLOK DOT SHOP FOR MORE !!!

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, DDDNE, Yandere themes, mental manipulation, obsessive behavior, allusions to violence, blackmail, angst, masturbation, Tyler Stone is also a warning lmao

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, after a million years, it is me! I'm sorry it's been so slow to update, y'all; things have been... *A lot*. Seems like every time I get a one-up something else happens, like my dad being in and out of the hospital for example.... As I stated in my previous post, this story won't be continuing for much longer!

Part 3

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua @peterbparkersburger @tojishugetiddies @aisyakirmann @itslariette0 @xxeclipze @oharasfilipinawife @amber-content @ixanne2006 @miguels-aranita @scaleniusrm @stopxplease @blueapplesiren @ruexvn @jadeloverxd @theitchbbbb @realifezompire

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Pt. 4

You had gotten so used to the quiet and privacy of Miguel's mansion that you weren't entirely sure how to handle when the infamous Tyler Stone dropped by for a visit. You certainly didn't enjoy the energy the man put off, nor the looks he would send your way as you "entertained" him until Miguel arrived home; having sent word to Lyla that he arrived.

You noticed that even Lyla seemed uncomfortable with Tyler's presence, her holographic avatar was actually fidgeting when you looked at her. Whatever went on between Miguel and Tyler must not have been very good, judging by how perturbed Lyla was with the older man.

"So... You're the little mouse that my boy Mike has hired, eh?" Tyler grinned, swirling the wine in his glass around as he watched you wipe down and clean the bar. You were well aware of his eyes tracing the entire shape of your ass as you kept your back turned to him.

Yes, having him leer at you wasn't enjoyable... But you preferred it if he looked at your ass instead of your chest or face. Something about that man's gaze made you very uncomfortable; it wasn't at all like with Miguel. You felt safe with him... Even if sometimes he came home from work with the energy of a man ready to catch a criminal charge. You had chalked it all up to the stress of running Alchemax; and now, having his former boss just show up out of the blue while he was gone...

How the hell did Tyler Stone even get in? You assumed only you and Miguel had the passkey to get in. So, how--

Tyler grinned once again, tapping the rim of his glass with one of the gaudy rings on his fingers, catching your attention once again. "Well, sweet-cheeks?"

You grit your teeth and turn, giving him your best sweet smile, "Ah! Right, yes, sir. I'm Miguel's housekeeper."

"And a damn fine bartender..." Tyler hummed, downing the rest of his wine in one swift gulp, licking his lips of the excess as he eyes you up and down once again. "In fact, I'm thinkin' about snatching you out from under my boy... What do you say? Your job will come with all the perks I'm sure Mike holds from ya... A nice fat check..."

His hands constantly groping you...

Your shoulders stiffened, his offer making your blood curdle; "I--"

"She's off-limits, Stone." Miguel's deep voice rang out from the threshold.

You sighed with relief, looking over at him, holding back a shocked gasp. Miguel looked... Disheveled. His face was sweaty, chocolate locks stringing around his forehead, droplets of sweat rolling down his sculpted cheeks.

He straightened his posture as he stalked towards the bar, casting you a soft look before focusing his attention squarely on Tyler, the look in his eyes from behind his red lenses just exuded one word: murder. You almost swore Miguel was about to reach out to snap his neck, until Tyler clasped Miguel's larger hand in his, shaking it with a laugh.

"Ah, don't be so serious, Mike." Tyler laughed like Miguel wasn't currently staring daggers through his skull. "I was just proposing a business deal with your lovely little maid, here!"

"You wouldn't be trying to poach my own employee from me, would you, Stone?" Miguel asked, his voice relaxing to a more soft pitch; his body language still tense but not so aggressive. You could tell there was some definite bad blood between the two men.

Your fingers fiddled nervously with each other at the obviously thick tension in the air, "Miguel..."

"Ah, don't worry, querida." Miguel assured you with a smile, his gaze softening once it landed on you. "Tyler and I need to have a private discussion. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off..."

You nod, swallowing hard. Something was off, but you weren't willing to risk pissing Miguel off in any way, despite how gentle he seemed with you, even in the face of the former CEO of Alchemax. You quickly placed your cleaning supplies in the cabinet and scurried out of the room, closing the doors behind you.

Tyler didn't fail to notice how Miguel tracked your movements from the corners of his eyes as you left, and a shark-like smirk made his lips quirk dangerously. "Oh, now I see why you're not so keen to let me take her from you."

Miguel scowled at the older man, "Why the hell are you here, Stone? Don't bullshit me."

Tyler pressed his hand over his own heart, feigning innocence. "Why, Mike! I would never bullshit you, my boy... Wouldn't dream of it, in fact."

Miguel glowered, his temper already short from dealing with a troublesome Kraven variant that wrought havoc in another universe, plus an "incident" in one of the labs at Alchemax. Tyler's sudden manifestation was testing his patience.

Oh, he had so looked forward to coming home, having a nightly drink with you... maybe work some aggression off. Maybe he could have convinced you to help...

But now, that little fantasy faded in the light that was his sperm donor's annoying fucking mile-long smile. That stupid fucking face that reminded him so much of his own, sometimes he couldn't stand to look in the mirror.

"Don't play coy. Tell me why you're here."

Tyler raised his thick brows, his forehead creasing from the slight wrinkles, there. "Mike--"

"Miguel." The tall man hissed.

"Mike." Tyler corrected, pouring himself another glass of wine. "I've heard you've been a little distracted, lately. A little... scatter-brained. So unlike you. I came to see what was bothering my boy in his personal time--"

"I'm not your fucking child, cabrón." Miguel snarled, breaching Tyler's personal space and standing almost nose-to-nose, "Now stop. Fucking. Pontificating."

He sighed deeply, frowning softly at Miguel's "mood". Oh, how he hated when he got like this. Too uppity for his own good, too ambitious. And after what happened between them... rather dangerous.

Oh, if he only knew how dangerous he was...

"Fine. I checked your financials and saw you had arranged a payroll to a rather cute houseworker." Tyler peered at Miguel almost boredly over the rim of his glass. "As well as some purchases for very small cameras, a number of which happen to be waterproof..."

Miguel felt the hair bristle on the back of his neck. Tyler had.... He had implanted a bypass-shunt program into his personal files? Without Lyla picking up on it? How the fuck did he manage that?

He must have hired someone to do it. He had to have hired someone to do it!

His fists clenched and his jaw tightened microscopically; but Tyler seemed to pick up on it anyway as he casually sipped his wine.

"Oh yes, I've been keeping an eye on you. Can't let my most promising progeny be left to his own devices for very long, now can I?"

"You--"

"How often do you spy on the girl, hm? I imagine watching her undress is rather titillating." He smirked, "She has a very nice body... Almost wasted just being looked at..."

Miguel grabbed Tyler by the collar of his 10,000-credit suit, bunching his fists and lifting him off the stool, sending some of the wine splashing from the glass and onto the bar top; snarling Miguel spits at him. "You stay the fuck away from her, you hear me, Tyler? If you so much as lay a pinky on her, I will--"

Tyler laughed, completely unfazed by Miguel's aggression. "Careful, now, Mike... Wouldn't want some evidence of your little Rapture addiction slipping out and making its way to your pretty little doll, no?"

Miguel snorted, his nostrils flaring as his face heated up. He dropped Tyler back in the stool, turning to stomp away, his fists balled and chest heaving to control his rage, just barely controlling himself enough to avoid burying his talons in the meat of his palms.

Tyler sighed, downing some more of his glass, "We wouldn't want the public finding out that the great Miguel O'Hara was a junkie, now do we?"

His head was abuzz; adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins, he could feel that primal urge to just reach out and snap Tyler's neck. Hiding or disposing of the body would be easy enough, concealing any other evidence would also be a snap. Unfortunately, if anybody knew he was coming over to Miguel's...

Fuck. Tyler also probably had some kind of implant to contact emergency services in the event his heart stops or he's severely injured. Then, Miguel would obvious be a shoe-in for a brand new jumpsuit; not one of his own design.

The multiverse would suffer, another Spider-Man demonized by the public for murdering a man who outwardly appeared somewhat decent...

Then, it felt like a tension wire snapped; realization dawned on Miguel as clear as a sunny summer day.

Tyler was baiting him. He wanted him to snap.

He wouldn't give in to his cheap taunts.

Miguel forced his body to relax, reaching up to slick back a stray strand of hair, and turns to give Tyler a cool smile, "Well... if that were to happen... I would have to tell them where the Rapture came from. How you used it to control me, manipulate me, threaten to kill me."

Miguel felt sick glee at how Tyler's smile instantly fell, and the Hispanic man tipped his head to the side, his smile eerily calm.

"Oh... You thought I didn't have evidence of that? Now, imagine how the public will react when news of me being your illegitimate son--the result of a disgusting affair--gets out?"

"You--you wouldn't." Tyler spat, throwing the wineglass to the ground and shattering it, the red liquid running out to pool around it, soaking into the grout in-between the tiles like a thin, watery pool of blood.

"Your mother would be--"

"I don't give a fuck what Connie deals with. She's had her dose of karma a long time coming... and it's honestly only fitting that I be the one to deliver it." Miguel sneered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Tyler swallowed, glaring up at his own flesh and blood like it was Hercules fighting the lion. Only... it was up to anyone's guess who would emerge the victor of this bout.

But... He knew that Miguel was much larger, much stronger, faster--younger...

It was an uphill battle and he currently had a bullet wound to his knee.

So, Tyler Stone relented in the seething rage that was Miguel O'Hara. He adjusted his coat from where Miguel has mussed it before, wiping up some of the wine on the counter with his handkerchief before tossing it to the floor indignantly.

"Very well, Mike... I'll leave your little toy alone. But... do be careful enough to take care of your toys in the future. Don't want to forget what happened to your last girlfriend..."

That slight sting didn't hurt as much as he'd hoped, Miguel merely jerking his head to the side, his lip curled in an irritated snarl. "Get out of my house."

As the smaller man began to walk briskly out, he gave Miguel a smirk over his shoulder; "Y'know, my boy... some stuff really is genetic. You don't realize just how much like me you really are."

Miguel scoffed, his body finally relaxing as he turned to clean another one of Tyler Stone's messes, wiping the bar you meticulously cleaned for him clean, tossing the piece of cloth into the nearby trash bin, and turning on the little disc-shaped cleaning bot to clean up the shattered glass and suck up the wine.

"Lyla." Miguel sighed as he took off his sunglasses, his hand shaking as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, boss man." She greeted hesitantly. "Whaddya need?"

"Find out how Tyler got into the system. How he got past you. I'm going to upgrade your code later with stronger firewalls, too." He said, staring at her flickering avatar.

"Yeah, believe me... I don't like him getting past me. It feels... gross. Violating." She shuddered.

Despite changing her programming to see the logic in his words by default, Miguel was emotionally attached to Lyla. For a long time, she was his only true friend. She was there for him after the Rapture incident...

And to now watch as Tyler had essentially brute-forced his own program onto Lyla felt akin to some form of assault on her; one of his greatest creations to date.

But... the shreds of his conscience began to thread together as he remembered you. The cameras, the stalking, having Lyla be hypocritical and spying on your personal business...

"You... You know everything I do is to keep her safe--both of you safe, right, Lyla?" He asked softly, staring down at the little robot as it chirped as its cleaning cycle was finished, returning to its charging dock.

"Well, yeah.... I saw the crime reports... saw how that guy probably would have killed her... and... well." She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up at him, a brow quirking upwards. "I mean... the cameras are just as good for safety, right? Like how people put baby monitors in their kid's room, or to spy on the nanny. Keeps her from getting hurt even where she should be safe..."

Miguel smiled warmly at her. Yeah... she was programmed to see his logic, but... hearing it made him feel much better.

"Thank you, Lyla. Let me know if anything goes wrong with her personal stuff, alright? I want to make sure Tyler isn't spying on her, too." He turned to begin leaving the room, "I'm going to work this adrenaline off. Make sure my Pequeña Ave is relaxing like I told her to, hm? When you're not busy sorting through the bullshit Tyler pulled, that is."

"Can do, boss!" Lyla chirped happily, giving him a little salute. "Have fun gettin' those reps in!"

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You couldn't find Miguel in his office, the lounge, his bedroom, the bar, at the pool... the only other place you could think of was his small gym.

He didn't seem to have had a good day at work, and Tyler's presence only seemed to worsen it when he came home. You wondered what exactly happened between them to make their relationship so hostile in the first place...

But, you shoved that curiosity to the side. You decided to try and give Miguel a little pick-me-up. You remembered the story he told you of he and his little brother sneaking off to enjoy their snack of mango and chili salt.

You cut the mango in half, pulled the large seed pod out of the middle, and halfway sliced the halves into little cubes; and finally sprinkled on the chili salt. Afterwards, you placed the snack on a tray with a nice, ice-cold bottle of his favorite sports drink. If he was in the gym, he would definitely need to replenish some electrolytes after working out.

As you walked down the hall, you noticed Lyla's avatar following you. "Hey, Mamacita." She said. "I'd steer clear of the boss. Mr Stone-head reeeeeeeally made him mad."

You wiggled the tray a bit and gave her a smile, "That's why I'm bringing him this, Lyla. Snacks do wonders for mood improvement!"

She tilted her head, taking a moment to respond. "Oh. Right. Good idea, actually..."

You noticed her seemingly distracted nature today, which was almost unheard of for the AI. "You ok?"

"Yeah, going through my files before Miguel puts in a new update for me tonight. Gonna get me a niiiiice makeover, program-wise." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at you. "I'll be pretty indisposed however; one, from going through my millions of lines of code, and two; he's gotta put me out while he works on me."

You chuckled, "Ah, well I'll leave you to that, then. Hope the update goes well."

Lyla gives you a snarky salute before her avatar disappears as you near the gym. As you reached the arching threshold--no door, you noticed some time ago; he apparently liked a bit of an open floor plan when it came to that--you could hear the sounds of him grunting, huffing, and swearing. It sounded like he was working hard.

You round the bend and open your mouth to announce yourself--until you see why Miguel was really making those sounds.

His back was to you, shirt abandoned on the floor by the dumbbells. He sat in his boxers, pants discarded the same way his shirt had been in favor of working out almost entirely naked.

Or, well.... maybe it started with him working out--until he went to the weight bench and it devolved into something else entirely.

The mirrors lining the opposite wall gave you a perfect view of him despite him sitting with his back to you. His boxers were shoved hastily down to his thick thighs, leaning on one hand as his other one slowly stroked up and down his rigid, leaking cock. Miguel's head was tipped back, his eyes closed in frustrated pleasure, sweat making his body shine as though he had almost appeared oiled-up. His usually well-kept hair was messy, tacking to his forehead and scalp with thick layers of sweat.

The sight immediately sent a throb down to your core; heat roiling and pooling low in your belly and had you biting your lip in equal parts mortification, shame, and arousal.

He grunted, grinding his teeth as he tipped his head down again. You quietly jumped back out of sight as he looked down and opened his eyes, growling as his hand circled the head of his dick before twisting and stroking back down.

"Fuuuuuuck." You heard him sigh. "That's it, bebita... fuck, I'm close."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you imagined who he could possibly be picturing in his mind's eye; what dream woman he probably had at his feet, between his legs, worshipping the thick shaft he stroked in his hand

You pinched your thighs together, feeling your arousal already begin to soak through your panties, threatening to breach the fabric of your pants. Your face heated up, flushing with color as the sounds of him pleasuring himself assaulted your ears in the all-too quiet house. Hell, it felt like he was being so loud, his sounds of self-pleasure drowned out the blood rushing in your ears.

You couldn't contain your curiosity, and peek around the corner again. Miguel had his eyes closed again, a blissful crease prominent on his brow as he bucked his hips in time with his hand.

You watched as he snagged his plush bottom lip between his teeth, his face twitching as his hand jerked faster, the thick precum dripping down his cock and coating his fingers, assisting in the glide as he fucked his own hand, his release imminent.

You squeezed your legs together even tighter, taking care not to jostle the tray in your hands and not make any noise that would give you away.

This was... wrong. You should turn around, and leave your treat to him in the kitchen for him to find on his own. You should...

You swallowed the gasp that wanted to come from you as he muttered something to himself, something you couldn't quite make out--before the thick ropes of his cum spurted from the tip of his cock.

Continuing to stroke and pull, to lengthen his orgasm as long as possible; to ride the high further, Miguel rolled his head back with a gutteral moan, his cum splattering on the floor mats below him, his legs trembling.

As he began to even his breathing out, you turned and as quickly and quietly as possibly rushed back down the hall to avoid being caught--and maybe attend to the pressing matter that stained your panties.

Miguel however--

Miguel knew you were there. He could smell your perfume as you made your way down the hall, hear your soft footsteps and conversation with Lyla.

He grinned as he looked into the mirror, his eye tracking where you had once been peeping in on him. He could smell you the moment you got wet; hear the way your heart thudded in your chest as you spied on him.

He had been edging himself; not intentionally of course, but with how frustrated and angry he was, Miguel had been dancing on the edge of a climax for most of the time. Until he caught your scent, the smell of your wet little cunt filling his senses and making his mind buzz with his budding orgasm before driving him over that peak.

He wondered what you thought of the sight. You were aroused, certainly. You very much liked what you saw. He almost hoped you would walk in, and offer your own soft, sweet little hands to stroke him to relief.

But ah, you were a polite girl. Scurrying away like a frightened little mouse before getting caught and possibly pissing him off.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh as he grabbed his sweat rag from beside him, wiping at the mess he made of himself. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but smile.

Maybe getting into your head was going to be easier than he anticipated.

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Part 5: I have no idea Imma be real with y'all

[formosusiniquis]

sandra bullock eat your heart out

inspired by this post and the tags by @stevieharringtonwifeguy

Without putting too fine a point on it, Eddie wasn't exactly the type to watch beauty pageants. They didn’t really think about them, didn’t really care about them, didn’t really realize they were even still a thing outside of sitcom plotlines from the 90s about women’s self image. What Eddie was was extremely online. And when Twitter went fucking batshit because a plus sized transwoman had the nerve to be talented enough to make it to the Miss America competition; they figured they should support the home team -- or whatever shit Wayne says when the wrong horse boys makes it to the big football game.

So sure, they expected her to be pretty. It is in the name. Imagined she’d be good looking in that classic, sort of boring way. A blonde with a nice smile, a fucking button nose. A non-threatening, homegrown sort of beauty. It being the internet complaining, they kinda also figured plus size meant a size 2 dress and a C cup. 

They couldn't in their wildest dreams picture the woman who would appear on their TV, when they finally figured out where they could even watch the damn thing. Statuesque with a squared jaw and swimmers shoulders, moles dot her face and neck, it looks like her nose has been broken before. Plush thighs and a biteable ass fill out a royal blue evening gown, when she smiles it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Alone in their apartment, Eddie has no one to scream the thoughts ricocheting in their brain at. It leaves them with nowhere to turn but the place that got them here to begin with.

The Eddie Munson ✔ @CorrodedEddie

I'm used to people having bad taste but at this point I'm wondering if we're even watching the same thing

The Eddie Munson ✔ @CorrodedEddie

Miss Indiana is the most beautiful woman I've ever seenThe Eddie Munson ✔ @CorrodedEddie

How do I do the added context thing, i need to make a note on some posts. Reader’s noted: User is actually a sad loser who’s cockroach wifed themselves and can’t appreciate what’s in front of them

Read the rest on AO3 cause this baby has formatting

[late-to-the-party-81]

If everything changes, will it stay the same?

AN: Here’s a little thing for @stuckygeekevents bingo, Square L3 - Howling Commandos. It’s a bit angsty, but I hope you enjoy it.

Beta'd by @zenaidamacrouras1

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me.

Join my tag list here

Master list

Summary: After Steve’s one-man assault at Azzano, Bucky takes time during the walk back to allied territory to try and make sense of, well, everything. 

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

WC: 2k

CW: Trauma, Bucky Barnes has PTSD, Confused Bucky, Worried Bucky, The Howling Commandos are good bros, The Howling Commandos know what’s up, slightly insecure Steve, bittersweet ending (cos we know what happens next), smoking.

All he had to do was put one foot in front of the other. Easy. Something he’d been able to do since he was 11 months old apparently, but, at this moment, it felt so goddamn hard! However, there was no way on God’s green earth that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was going to ask for help. He’d walked into this war on his own two feet and he’d walk out of it too, torture or no torture.

Sergeant James Barnes. 32557038.

Rifle in hand, he scanned the group of men a few feet ahead of him, easily picking out the newly gigantic form that was Steve. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. What had those military pricks actually done to him? 

What had been done to him?

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts, and Bucky turned to look up into the grinning face of Dum-Dum. There’s nothing like serving in the same regiment with someone else to speed up the friend-making process. Especially when you end up as POW’s together.

32557038.

“So that’s little Stevie, huh? You told me that you hadn’t had any head injuries prior to joining up.” Dum-Dum’s tone was light and teasing and Bucky couldn’t help but flush.

“Ah, fuck off. He was when I left. Not my fault some wacko military scientist pumped him full of super-steroids and turned him into Charles-fucking-Atlas.”

Dum-Dum snorted. “Guess it’s gonna take you some getting used to, though?”

Bucky shrugged, trying to give off an air of nonchalance. “Won’t make any difference to me. As long as what they did didn’t give him any brain damage, he’ll still be the same old Stevie underneath.”

Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.

“Hate to break it to you, sport, but the way he came charging into that hell-hole? Well doesn’t seem like a man in full charge of his faculties to me.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to snort. “That? That wasn’t nothin’ new. That was classic Rogers - running in where angel’s fear to tread. The only difference now is that he’s apparently strong enough to not get his ass kicked from here to Sunday.”

“Well,” Dum-Dum conceded, “it must be a weight off your mind, an’ all. Gonna go check on some of the others, Barnes. Don’t push yourself too hard. Though suppose you do, little Stevie could always carry you.” His expression split into a shit-eating grin at the jibe and he ducked away before Bucky could gather himself to punch the guy in the arm.

Bucky’s lips twisted up wryly and he shook his head. Fuckin’ Duggan. Guy was a shit-stirrer of the highest magnitude, which coming from him was saying something. He had a point though, about not pushing himself too hard. To be honest, he wasn’t actually sure how he was still walking, given everything. To top it off, his brain still felt as though it had been chopped up and poured back into his head. 

32557038.

He tried to remember what had been being done to him, but it was a hazy blur of sleep deprivation and pain. He thought there had been needles. And a creepy little man with a round face and round glasses talking about hopefully ‘this one’ would survive the procedure.

Sergeant James Barnes.

He plodded on, keeping an eye on Steve as he walked ahead, but also trying to keep that gaze above the waist. The guy was wearing tights, for Christ’s sake and now he actually had an ass on him. It hadn’t been as bad when Steve had still had a pair of fatigues on over the top, but he’d loaned those out to one of the other survivors who’d had the misfortune to fall in a puddle. The pair of them definitely needed to have a talk, as soon as they got a semblance of privacy, but how Bucky was supposed to concentrate when all of that was gonna be standing in front of him, he had no idea.

“Sarge!”

Bucky whipped his head round at the sound of the familiar voice and tried not to groan. Morita jogged up to him, a grin on his bruised and dirtied face. The guy was great, even if he was sometimes a little too much.

“What is it, Morita?”

“That guy,” he jerked his head in Steve’s direction, “is really your… umm… friend?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a small smile. “He’s my friend. Grew up like brothers, I suppose you could say. Why?”

“Because he’s Captain-freaking-America.” Morita’s voice had dropped into a theatrical hiss. Bucky had often thought the guy could easily get a job on stage, once they all got out of here, of course. “And,” he continued, a small wheedling tone creeping in, “I wondered if you could ask him to autograph something for me to send home. My girl would be over the moon if I could tell her I knew him.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Jim. I don’t know if he does stuff like that. It’s not like we’ve had the opportunity to really talk yet, what with escaping and all.”

Not without you!

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, slightly chagrined. “Well, if you get the chance to ask. But no rush, or anything. How’re you holding up, anyway?”

“Alright, I suppose. A little achy and a lot tired, but I’m alive, so that’s the main thing, right?”

Morita reached out and squeezed Bucky’s forearm. “That it is, Sarge.”

Sergeant James Barnes.

They walked together for some time in companionable silence, and were eventually joined by Jones, who was carrying three cigarettes he’d managed to obtain from somewhere, and passed them both one each. Bucky shouldered his rifle and lit his, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as the nicotine hit him. “Damn that’s good. Thanks, Gabe.”

“No problem, Barnes. I think we all deserved one. Probably deserve a boat load if truth be told.”

“Damn straight, “ Morita chimed in, before blowing a plume of smoke into the air.

“You spoken to your buddy yet?” Gabe enquired.

“Umm, not really. I’m still a bit in shock, to be honest. Asked him for some space, and as loads of others were, are, buzzing round him like flies round shit, it wasn’t too hard to get away for a bit.”

Morita elbowed him. “He keeps looking over his shoulder at you, Sarge. Think he’s making sure you haven’t disappeared. Looking a bit like a lost puppy when he’s doin’ it too. I think you should go and walk by him for a bit.” Bucky thought Morita should just shut up…

“Yeah, Barnes. He did become a one-man army to save you. Least you could do is say thanks.” Gabe’s bright grin split his face as decided to join in with the ganging up. Fucker.

“It wasn’t just to save me guys. It was to save all of us. That’s Stevie through and through - always championing the underdog and doing what’s right, regardless of the rules. He hates bullies.”

“If you gotta tell yourself that, then you do so, but we all know it was ‘cause you was in danger that put a rocket up his ass. So with all due respect, Sergeant Barnes, go talk to your boy because he’s quickly becoming the most pathetic white man I’ve ever seen. And considering I shared a cell with Dernier, that’s saying somethin’.

Bucky took one last drag on his cigarette. “You two should go fuck yourselves, you know that?” He flicked the butt into the bushes as his two comrades just grinned at him. Then, with an eye roll, he stalked forward, catching up to where Steve was leading the rag-tag group of men back to the allied encampment. 

Steve’s smile as he realised it was Bucky coming towards him was so warm, Bucky felt as though another sun had risen into the sky. He barely noticed the others walking with them melting back into the main group of men.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said shyly.

“Hey, yourself.” Bucky felt just as awkward as Steve looked. During the rescue itself, Bucky had thought that what he’d been seeing was a drug induced fever-dream, but in the cold light of day, with his adrenaline levels returning to normal he could really take in all of the changes that had been wrought upon Steve. 

I thought you were smaller.

However, he wasn’t looking for those changes. No, he was trying to see beyond them to find the tell-tale signs of his Stevie. 

There was that familiar crooked nose, no weird science could apparently fix that. And Steve’s cow-lick - that lock of straw blonde hair that just wouldn’t stay in place, no matter how much of Bucky’s pomade Steve had stolen. However, the most important thing was Steve’s eyes. Deep blue with flecks of green, a colour he wanted to drown. His hand itched to take hold of Steve’s and interlace their fingers, but they couldn’t. Not now. As much as some of the others may suspect and tease him, there were some things that were definitely private. And that was assuming that Steve still wanted to hold his hand.

“You doing okay? You’re not too tired are you?” There was concern in Steve’s voice and it was enough to make Bucky laugh through the awkwardness of the situation.

“That used to be my line,” he joked. “But somehow, you’re now the motherhen. All two hun’red and sommin’ pounds of you. You better not get into any fights now, ‘cause there’s no way I’m gonna be able to carry your fat ass home.”

Steve went beet red - a look that was also familiar. “You think my ass is fat?” he whispered, aghast.

Bucky smirked. “ Well it sure ain’t skinny anymore, that’s for sure.” He received a glare and a set of pursed lips in response. “But, yeah. I’m okay. All the better for seeing you, pal, even if you won’t fit under my arm any more and you could probably bench press me.”

They walked next to each other, silence falling between them and Bucky was at a loss of what else to say. What were you supposed to say when the person who’s not only the centre of your world but who’s also supposed to be safely across on the other side of it, is actually standing by your side, having rescued you with his dramatically altered body. Nothing inside any of the fantastic stories Bucky had read in his youth had prepared him for such a mind-bending situation. “How are you doing?” was the only thing he could say.

“Buck…” Steve tried to speak, but his voice almost immediately cracked and he had to suck in a few deep breaths. “I was so scared,” he continued in a hushed tone. “So scared that you wouldn’t be there, or that you’d be…” He tailed off. He didn’t need to say it. Bucky was certain if Steve had been even fifteen minutes later there wouldn’t have been anything of him to save. He couldn’t comfort Steve the way he wanted, couldn’t hold him and pull Steve’s head into his own neck and let the pair of them cry the way they wanted, but he could lean a little bit to the side and let the back of his hand brush against the back of Steve’s. 

For a heartbeat their pinky fingers hooked together before falling away from each other again. However, that gesture was enough to both reassure Bucky and get his heart racing, just a little, before a sense of foreboding settled upon him again

“Everything’s changed, Steve,” Bucky mumbled, downcast. “And think you’re the least of those changes. I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I suppose everyone thinks they know, but nothing can prepare you. Not really. It’s brutal, in a way you can’t imagine, Stevie.”

32557038.

Bucky bit back a sob, and opened his eyes wide, willing the wetness gathering there to dry out. He wasn’t going to fall apart, especially not when he had Steve by his side, something he’d resigned himself to never having again.

The clap on his shoulder from Steve was nothing like the one from Duggan earlier. He could feel the warmth of Steve’s hand through his ragged top, his lean, artist fingers gripping him with surety.

“It’ll be alright, Buck. I got you out, and I’m right here with you. Til the end of the line.”

And as they continued to walk toward safety, Bucky just had to believe that was true.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds,

@crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318,

@scram1326, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989,

@kombatfather1796

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Part Seven <3

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (I will cover the symptoms as well as possible, but any and all corrections are welcome) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

Warnings for this specific chapter: (technically) main character death, written descriptions of injury, gore and blood talk. Included reference and experience with post-surgery symptoms of various degrees of seriousness. One character affectionately refers to another character as "slutbag"

Keegan is a good man.

You learn this quickly, as you get into moderate, common spats with the United States healthcare system.

In the days that narrowly follow the surgery, when you're more often unconscious than awake, you often wake with the nurse (technically certified, but you really have no idea if he actually works here) at your bedside who's just... doing whatever in the corner.

You're lucky you haven't been snippy enough to shove him away from you, just yet.

In your own defense, your dignity has been directly removed by most of this terrible shit.

You can't even get up to use the bathroom, anymore. It's a bedpan.

And apparently, you're still lucky. Because you're going to get your drainage tube out of the lovely leg wound in a few days.

You are, for all intents and purposes, about to kill someone or yourself. But Keegan is still often there, answering your questions or giving you just a bit of humor to hold onto as you go increasingly stir-crazy from waiting for Laswell to finally come and give you the rundown of the tatters that must remain of your career.

If you got lucky, she wouldn't be too upset. Maybe, if you were really lucky, she would tell you where the boys are. Why none of them have dropped in to see you yet.

It'd only be another week. You weren't sure you could last that long.

As if an angel somewhere has answered this thought, the door opens again.

"Hey, slutbag. I finally found you some enrichment."

Keegan's voice is playful, and he wears a shit-eating grin as he tosses a small bag to your bed, hitting you almost-square in the chest.

"Mm. Poor aim, Mr. Russ."

You may be tired, in pain, and you may be in a frankly terrible mood, but that doesn't mean you're not funny. Your name isn't Price.

Still, you open the little bag, and there's a box inside. You open that too, as Keegan plops himself in the chair that hurts his back because he can't be assed to bring in something better.

It's... a lock, casted out of clear plastic, with a small set of tools to pick it. Also a set of keys, which you already know you'll refuse to use for pride's sake.

Two watchful, fond blue eyes are scanning your motions and you can feel him smile, without even looking.

"I could have given you a manual, but I think you'd like it better to do it all yourself. Was I right?"

The tool's handle is smooth as you hold the lock steady, fighting to not immediately fiddle with the thing in front of Keegan. He would be too damned smug about it.

"...Thank you, Russ."

He did deserve that thanks, as far as you thought. You were pathetic right now, useless and bed-bound and panicky. And still, Keegan was willing to look upon you, he still willingly chooses to see you.

This thank you encompasses all of those things. You know you've been less than fun. Less than useful. And you know Keegan deserves to know that he's been good to you. Better than you've ever deserved.

He's quiet, for a time, but then you hear a warm chuckle as he reaches forward to give you a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Don't say that like you owe me anything, kid," You really should interrupt him, tell him that, if you're not older than him, you definitely outrank him, but you don't. "You're much better than working in a shit-hole like this."

Your eyes find his, and you can see him smile as he lowers his mask. You're noticed that he only seems to do this in the room, with you. And only when you're both alone.

"...I know some people who could change that."

"Really?"

"I'm missing my leg, I still have my connections, Keegan."

His smile is worth the scolding you know Lawell will give you for trying to promise to pull him into the service.

You don't care. He's medically smart enough, and pliable enough to train into shape.

Maybe, if you can't serve anymore, you can bring someone who was more brilliant that you ever were. Maybe, your debt is still something you can repay.

His smile isn't wide, but it's happy. Something in your chest squeezes too hard, but he's kind enough to ignore how your heart monitor beeps faster. You know he notices, because his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"D'you want me to give you some hints to pick that lock faster?"

For once, you see that offer for help, and it doesn't strike you as a direct insult to you. You can see, right there before you, someone who wants to get close.

And it's so very stupid to trust someone. But something tells you that you will never be too slow for Keegan.

He seems fine with waiting for you to catch up.

Maybe that's why you nod at that question.

Maybe that's why he sits on the side of your bed, and starts to explain the basics, gently leading your hands into proper position as he starts to gently wriggle the tool agains the pins.

You would have never allowed this, otherwise, but it feels surprisingly good to have him there. Not because he thinks you're weak. Not because he thinks you'd be better if he taught you this.

Keegan is teaching you this because he thinks it's something you want to learn.

The tool turns before you're ready, and the lock pops open under your hands. Keegan's hands too.

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[studentinpursuitofclouds]

A random thought, during the Mr. Qi's Crop Challenge (you know the one were you have to plant and shipped 500 Qi Beans) how will the SDV/SVE Bachelors gonna react to their lover (the Farmer) planting this weird looking crop that looks like a blueberry with sunglasses across the farm fields. 😂

Ah, Qi beans... Probably my least favourite quest, because spending a whole month growing this stuff, and also getting these fucking beans instead of cool gifts in chests or fish.... Ugh. Oh well, sorry for that 😅

Even though this fruit is annoying to me, the ask itself regarding the reactions of others to it is pretty funny, hee hee. Thanks for the ask, and enjoy! 🫰💖

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors react to the Qi fruit:

"Looks creepy..... And cool, by the way. What did you do to make them grow like that?" Sebastian's spouse is a virtuoso at growing all sorts of unusual crops, and he thinks it's a mega cool ability. Just a week ago they ate a salad made from an 'ancient fruit', and the day before yesterday they cut up a giant mushroom crop that was the size of a large pumpkin (even though Sebby's doesn't like shrooms, it was still cool!). Now it's the weird fruit with sunglasses. He wonder what unusual plant Farmer will grow tomorrow...

"Oh, I know! Are those fruits and vegetables that grow in different shapes?" Sam recently watched a video about gardeners who grow square watermelons or tomatoes in the shape of hearts using plastic moulds. So the guitarist reckoned his spouse had decided to join the trend too. A strange choice, yeah, but hey - bonus for cool sunglasses! And what does this 'Qi' fruit taste like? Looks like a giant blue melon, Sammy wouldn't mind a tasty snack. Anyway, he doesn't know much about gardening himself, so he'll leave that to Farmer.

"Did you buy sunglasses for every fruit you grow or what?" And tell us, dear Alex - why would your beloved Farmer do that? These things maybe look like sunglasses, but are hardly sunglasses. But who knows? It's definitely an unfamiliar fruit for an athlete, especially compared to what his grandmother Evelyn used to grow in the community garden all the time. But if it's edible and full of vitamins (no), then Alex doesn't really care about the look of the Qi fruit. "Hey, even if this tastes awful, we'll have plenty of pairs of sunglasses!"

"That's some ugly ass fruit right here. Do people really eat that stuff now?" Truth be told, while working at JojaMart, Shane had managed to see stranger products labelled as 'novelty'. This applied not only to obscure sauces and snacks of dubious origin, but also to fruits and vegetables. The blue colour of the "Qi" fruit Farmer grew generally gave Shane the idea that his spouse had purchased the seeds just from Joja.co. It looked strange, but Shane didn't even mind tasting it. If it's edible at all. This fruit certainly doesn't get any worse than Joja's 'special' sauce for nachos, of that he's sure.

"Honey, are you sure it's safe to eat?" Every time another crop of obscure origin ripens on the farm, Harvey's heart begins to pound with worry. What if it's poisonous? What if it's not handled properly and you could get food poisoning? Why is it such a strange shape? "Farmer, please..." The poor doctor goes through all the books on vegetables, fruits and berries, hoping to find some information about this Qi fruit and whether it's okay to eat it (spoiler - to no avail). Either it's another "healthy" product from Joja or something else. Either way, Harvey will be sceptical, to say the least.

"...If I understand correctly, my soul, this is our dinner for today?" Elliott could have sworn the fruit had just winked at him! The writer had heard that some farmers and gardeners deliberately grow their crops in a variety of shapes to make them look extravagant and sell them for more money, but... Of all the shapes, his spouse chose the face... But maybe that's the kind of crop that's in high demand on market right now. Elliott hoped that if they were to bake strudel with this 'Qi' fruit today, it would taste better than it looked. Also... sunglasses?

"Hmm, I wonder... Where exactly did you get those seeds, my love?" It is not appropriate for Lance to judge the strange crop that Farmer has grown, when the adventurer himself has a monster crop ripening in a corner on the farm, with an appearance similar to a huge eyeball. Nevertheless, this strange fruit arouses a share of suspicion in the pink-haired man. Something is not right here.... If his dear spouse doesn't mind, Lance would also like to take a look at this fruit, for he is very curious to know if this crop has any magical properties. Or anything that might threaten him or Farmer.

"This... thing is unnatural. What in the name of all spirits did you grow this abomination from?" Magnus's whole gut screams that this is not just a fruit, but the spawn of a dangerous mage or witch. Thin threads of dark magic emanate from this fruit, and the wizard certainly doesn't like Farmer being in contact with that magic. "Eat it? Absolutely not! And is it even edible?" A worried Magnus questions his spouse about who gave them these seeds and why. Hearing the name 'Qi', he sighs heavily. Mr. Qi. Of course... This name definitely promises a lot of chaos for everyone.

"Erm... That's wonderful, darling! You've managed to grow this, um... What's it called again?" Victor had spent two whole days in the town library and looked all sorts of books at home - not a single mention, about this mysterious 'Qi fruit'. It's not, to tell the truth, the strangest thing Farmer grew in their fertile fields (monster crops will always be at the top of the list for strangeness. Especially the one with the giant eyeball). Maybe it's some new fruit his spouse has discovered? Victor is sure the Farmer knows what they're doing. But yeah, he's supportive.

[trendywaifus]

Mitsuri and Shinobu with an S/O who’s really scary when mad? Like when either of them gets hurt, S/O is done with whoever hurt them. Sorry if that doesn’t make sense;;

no, you’re good! It made total sense. sorry for the lonngggv wait! hope you’re doing well buddy!

— oh yeahhh, we’re not having nun of that. you’re right on the person’s ass if they even try to say a slick comment to shinobu. you know that shinobu can easily clear the poor soul who decides to mess with her but you think that she shouldnt have to waste time and air for this person.

— in the demon slayer corps, many of the average demon slayers adore shinobu for her beauty and intelligence. however, there’s always some bad apples who likes to be different from the rest. if you happen to catch wind of it, you are on their ass BIG TIME. seeing how super pissed off you are for talking shit about her, they back off. then the rumor spreads around of you shutting down a crappy person for gossiping about one of the hashira who happens to be your lover.

— hell, you almost squared on tengen because he decided to make a shitty sexist jokes towards her. ( if you didn’t know, tengen thinks more of her as a medic). ngl, shinobu was mad asf too but beating up a fellow hashira is a violation so she had to calm you down.

— if shinobu were to ever get injured by a demon, you see red. its to the point where shinobu would have to calm you down after you behead the demon by. . . . .a sedative. .like a . .wild monkey. .on the loose. .

— she must be protected at allll cost! who cares if she could bench all y’all’s moms with one hand??? who cares if she’s capable of stretching you apart and use you like a jump rope?? she’s such a sweetheart and if anyone disrespects her, you’d go ape shit.

— there’s been times where men would comment on her appearance or send her dirty glares while you were right there. ngl, you’d either go off on em or secretly flip them off when mitsuri isn’t looking. when the two of you eat out, you encourage her to eat as much as she can and not pay attention to the surprised looks from others at the growing stack of bowls lined up on the table. she loves you sm for that.

— mitsuri is also very loved by the corps because of her bubbly and adorable personality but ofc there’s those poopheads who thinks it’s weird and doesn’t like the fact how crazy strong she is for a woman. you overheard a small group of slayers comparing mitsuri to a sumo wrestler because she supposedly won an arm wrestling match against tengen and rengoku. you know what you did? walked up to them, called them all a bunch of wet noodle losers and told them to be glad that they weren’t tied up to a post because obanai likes to snatch up anyone who talks shit about her. they shut up right after.

[correctproseka]

Our prsk appearance headcanons that no one asked but

(btw by tan we mean: darker skin tone we didnt think of one specific to most of them)

Ichika: skinny/girl twink, her arms hurt when she carries her guitar her full day. Girl loser /affectionate, also taller than canon. Her hair is straight but thick.

Saki: chubby (she deserves after the hospital time), very visible freckles on her whole body, though she tends to hide it with makeup, and her face is round and with chubby cheeks even while sick. Canon size. Wavy but thin hair which sucks to take care of.

Honami: fat, and strong. More on the tan side, taller than canon, slightly wavy hair

Shiho: average id say? Some light freckles, gets confused with a twink a lot but she's just a lesbian, shorter than canon for funsies, straight hair, very light freckles on her cheeks.

Minori: she's more legs than human, like a fucking deer. /Hj. Gets stronger/chubbier as mmj goes on because she needs to adapt her diet for the amount of energy she's releasing, tan, shes average size, id say canon is good for her, thin and straight hair

Haruka: . Thin for . Canon reasons. However she has some muscles. Pale id say? Also canon height, thick and straight hair.

Airi: muscular, not too chubby for idol reasons otherwise she would be, tan too, slightly bit shorter, thick curly hair.

Shizuku: she looks like a swan and I can't explain it. Thats all, taller than every girl and Tsukasa, slightly wavy but thin hair. Very light freckles on her nose.

Kohane: chubby-ish. Round face, looks like a hamster, same height as canon, straight-ish hair

An: very Lean, not very muscular but athletic like that tiktok archery twink (also random but has done pole dance+street dance classes), tan, she's really fast and eats a lot without gaining weight, which she complains about, also taller than canon, thick and straight hair.

Akito: a little muscular, especially his legs, tan, lots of freckles on his face and shoulders, bit shorter than canon, freckled, thick hair thats slightly wavy.

Toya: twink and pale, his fingers are pianist long and he's very elastic and stretchy somehow. Taller than canon, veery straight and thin hair.

Tsukasa: he looks like a twink but somehow has muscles, tan, his freckles are very visible because of the sun but they're only around the cheeks, wavy hair like Saki.

Emu: chubby/fat, stronger than she looks, same height as canon, straight hair.

Nene: girl twink once again, pale because she does not know what sun is, thin ass hair.

Rui: twink, and also looks like a square, he's taller thsn canon (shorter than rui) but slouches a lot, his hair changes on the day tbh, and its a bit longer than canon.

Kanade: extremely thin but after eating nofmally again she goes to average id say? Chubby cheeks though, extremely pale anyways, canon height and straight hair thats thin and frail but it gets better as niigo teaches her how to take care of it. Mizuki also cuts her hair to shoulder height

Mafuyu: muscular, taller than canon (taller than mizuki, tanner than canon too, thick wavy hair, Mizuki also cut his hair.

Ena: chubby, same height as canon and tan, her freckles are only around the nose and cheeks but they're very visible, not as much ws Akito or the Tenmas tho, letting her hair grow and its slightly wavy but she tends to make it straight because she claims its easier, she's also a ginger but dyes her hair

Mizuki: lean, but not as much of a twink as the others, also her legs look long too, grows a bit more than canon, straight hair who tends to try and give it a bit more waves to it.

[blacklegsanjiii]

I'd like to think that the whole of luffys family is extremely jealous but also proud he mamaged to bag one of the best if not THE BEST cook in all of the 5 seas

And like not only that but the cook is also loyal to his fault and so kind, he doesnt care about luffys big ass appetite he embraces it infact he fucking adores it!! Cause luffy will eat anything and never leta anything to go to waist

So yeah luffy sometimes has to fight his family off because his boyfriend is likea god to the D standard

No, you're right.(Sorry this took so long)

Ace is all over the cook in Alabasta and Luffy gum gum pistols his brother to keep him from stealing his cook. And his boyfriend. Ace is yelling at Luffy and Luffy is yelling back that he can't take his cook just because he's jealous, he found him fair and square!

Garp keeps trying to convince Sanji to become a marine and Sanji is just blinking as Luffy is telling Garp he's a pirate and to leave him alone! Garp is a marine so he could just arrest them and Luffy is yelling even louder.

Sabo and dragon meeting Sanji and Dragon mentions off handedly they could use somebody with that level of nutritional knowledge for military and Sabo says fuck that, it's good food! We should make hims stay if he wasn't so devoted to Luffy. Luffy only hears half of this and gum gum rockets away with Sanji. Where? No clue, but they're gone.