#and also bc i didn’t know how to end it

[lostinlovingrevery]

Vans Valentines - Rookie Romantic

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

Vans Valentines

A/N: I'm not super proud with this one and I was honestly struggling typing it 🥲There's a lot of dialogue in this too. Also no Valentines banner for this yet either bc i'm being lazy about graphics lol. I hope you like the fluff tho!

Plot: It's yours and Logan's first Valentines, and he's panicking about what to do for you!

Warnings: Fluff, Logan is stressssing, other X-men, lil romance, some suggestiveness at the end but not really? Lot of dialogue

Word Count: 2110

Logan was freaking out. 

Strange isn’t it? The big bad Wolverine is freaking out because…

He doesn’t know what to do for Valentines.

“You don’t know what to do?” Scott raises a brow, and crosses his arms. A small smirk on the corner of his lips. “You mean mister “I don’t need any help” needs help to figure out what to give his girlfriend for Valentines day?” 

Logan felt flustered, rolling his eyes at Scott's mocking words. The tip of his ears turned red in embarrassment, as he brought a hand to scratch the back of his head. “It’s not like I don’t know what to get her, I just…” He sighs. “We haven’t been dating that long yet, I don’t want to blow it.” 

“It’s Valentines man, get her some chocolate and flowers.” Scott shrugs. 

“Is that what you’re giving Jean?”

“No.” He scoffs. “I got her tickets to see her favorite orchestra play live in Vegas. She always wanted to go there.” 

Logan's face fell. He scowled at Scott.

“I mean, I’ll give her flowers and chocolate too but that’s not the main gift.” Scott adds. “Just…Give her something from the heart.”

“Real cheesy Summers.” 

Scott shook his head. “Whatever, just don’t mess it up. We both know she’s a real romantic about these things.” He waved him off, turning and walking away. Logan frowned, crossing his arms and pinching the bridge of his nose. The anxiety he was hoping to cease was filling him to the brim. He let a small sigh.

Maybe Marie will be better help…

“Oh flowers! Get her favorite flowers! Jewelry? What about jewelry?” She smiles. “You could take her out to a nice dinner? Honestly anything goes, it’s really the thought that counts to us girls. As long as you put the effort in….” 

“So I was told.” Logan sighs. “Look, I could do all that stuff, I have done that stuff in the past. I uh…Never really cared about doing something nice for someone like that. I want to do something that means something. It’s her favorite holiday.” 

“You could get her something personalized?” Marie shrugs.

“What are we talking about?” Ororo walks into the room.

“Logan's trying to find something for his girlfriend-” Marie teases. 

“Watch it kid.” Logan shook his head. “I just haven’t figured it out yet. I’m looking for…suggestions.” Logan throws his hands up a weak shrug. “Any ideas?

“Really Logan?” Ororo scolds putting a hand on her hip. “You haven’t figured it out by now? Valentines is literally in a few days you know”

“I know! I’ve been thinking about it for a month!” Logan snaps, his voice nearly a growl. Marie and Ororo stare at him. “Sorry, sorry.” He says, brushing his hand through the curls of his hair. “I just…Want it to be…Special.” He gets out in frustration. 

“How about a weekend trip?” Ororo asks. “I had a boyfriend do that for Valentines. It was a really nice gift.” She smiles. 

“Maybe.”

“Whatever you do, just make sure it’s nice. You know how much she loves Valenti-”

“Yeah yeah.” Logan waved Ororo off, turning to walk out of the room. He didn’t mean to be rude, he did ask after all, but he was stressing out more and more. None of what anyone suggested sat right with him. He sat lost in thought as he wandered the mansion. 

This was yours and Logan's first Valentines. He wanted to do something nice for you, since he’s known for as long as you both been here that it was your favorite holiday. He actually did give you flowers last year for Valentines, but you were both still friends then- tittering on the edge of a relationship but he was too nervous to actually ask you out that time. 

This time he wanted to make it mean something- to make up for last year, feeling like he disappointed you by not officially taking you out that day. 

He happened by Hanks study. Maybe Hank knows something, since you two are good friends. 

He stepped inside, and Hank looked up from his desk, a blink of surprise. “Logan? Good to see you. Need something?”

“Yeah uh…Has my girl said anything to you about Valentines? Like…Maybe if she was expecting something?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “No, not at all.” He shook his head. “I do know that she seems excited this year. Do you have something planned?”

Logan's expression told Hank what he needed to know. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Just take her out for a date Logan. All she wants is to be with you.” 

Logan shook his head. “Looking for something a little more than that Hank.” He sighs, turning to walk out into the hallway. 

He wasn’t good at this. He had been wandering on his own for years and years. Alone.  Valentines would pass him by and he wouldn’t even notice unless he stopped at a bar that actually decorated with string hearts and “romance” deals on the whiskey. He’s not even sure if he ever even at least hooked up with someone on Valentines. It didn’t matter to him, wasn’t important. It was another day, in his long, fleeting life. 

Now that he’s got you. He sees the appeal of the holiday. Spoiling your loved one, making sure they know how you feel about them, the romance, the intimacy. All great. Except now the pressure of making sure he impresses you, makes you happy, really stresses him out. 

Faint memories of old relationships, where he gifted flowers, candy, and going out to dinner, leading to intimate nights spent together. Stuff that he didn’t necessarily put the effort into- things that he did because they were expected and he was content to just do what he could. He could do all that sure, and you’d probably love it. You weren’t picky, but you were a romantic and he felt like if he settled on his gifts, on his expression of love; you’d be disappointed. 

Lost in thought, he nearly missed Charles in his head, asking him to come to his study urgently. He put your gifts on the back-burner, as he made his way to Charles office, to realize his day was about to get worse. 

It was now Valentines, and Logan was begrudgingly walking up the steps to the mansion, having returned from a mission, that lasted nearly 4 days.

The chaos left him little time to get you gifts, just enough time to get you a bouquet of flowers which unfortunately got smushed when some jackass shoved into him. He went to get a new bouquet- and of course, that same jackass happened to snatch the last one. Valentines evening, figures they would nearly be out. 

He got up to the door, staring at the bouquet in disdain. He’ll make it up to you, he knows he will. Surely you understand what happened, right? 

Just as he went to open the door, it opened on it’s own, with Scott and Jean standing there, arms hooked with each other, dressed as they seemed prepared to go on a fancy date.

“Logan!” Jean smiled, then shot a look at Scott, who was smirking. “Welcome back!” 

“Yeah.” Logan gives a courteous nod, pursing his lips together. “You guys look nice.” He compliments, looking them up and down. Fancy, flashy outfits. Jean in a bright red evening gown, and Scott in a tux- with a red tie to match her dress; and supposedly his glasses too. 

“Thank you.” Jean smiles bigger, hugging Scott's arm a little closer to her. “We’re going out to dinner.” 

“Have fun.” He says, not very heartfelt in his words as he moved to step inside past them.

“Hey, she’s in the kitchen by the way.” Jean calls out over her shoulder. Logan looks back at them, as they were walking out the door.

“Hope you got something nice planned Logan.”  Scott remarks, and looked over his shoulder as well, glancing at Logan, the smirk still plastered on his face. Jean quietly hushed him and they disappeared down the walkway. Logan shut the door behind them, confusion on his face.

Why were they weird?

He made his way to the kitchen, past the various student couples flirting and necking throughout the halls and rooms, rolling his eyes at the young love the entire mansion has found itself in. Anxiety began to hit him as he began to realize how disappointed you were going to be. He stopped just before the doorway of the kitchen, preparing himself before he stepped in. 

Confusion filled him as he looked around. You weren’t in here. He must have just missed you. 

He turned to leave, before noting the patio door was cracked open. His brows creased, as he walked across the room, his hand reaching out to close it when he noticed rose petals on the floor. 

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself. Jean telling him you were in the kitchen, and Scotts remark….He had a feeling this had something to do with you. He stepped further out, walking along the scattered rose petals, stretching across the lawn- seemingly endless as he followed them. 

He sniffed, a could smell your perfume nearby, as well as the faint smell of food. A small smile grew on his face, as he followed a small path through the woods that the rose petals led him through. That’s when he came into the small clearing- where you were.

You’re back was turned to him, but he could see you were wearing one of his favorite dresses on you, and your hair done up. You seemed busy arranging the table, which had lit candles, plates, and bowls and decorative plates filled with his favorite food. Nearby, he heard music playing crooners and jazz. The clearing had lights strung up on the trees, lighting up the small area and creating a romantic ambiance that reminded Logan how much he loved you.

Silently he snuck up behind you, his arm quickly wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against him, a small gasp escaping you as he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. It had been a few days since he seen you after all, he missed you dearly. 

“Hi Lo…” You giggled, placing your arms over his and leaning back into him. “Happy Valentines day…”

“This all for me bub?”

“This? Oh, no. It’s for Hank.” You teased shaking your head, feigning as if you were serious. 

“Not funny.” He murmured, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. You turned around, placing your hands on his shoulders. His eyes quickly taking in your figure, reminding him once again why this dress was his favorite on you. 

“You like it?” You asked. 

“Like it? I love it baby.” He cooed, leaning in to peck your lips. “Um…” He parted from you, lifting the broken bouquet up. “These are..For you.” 

Your face lit up as you took the flowers into your hands, “Lo!”

“I…” He sighed in frustration, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t do anything super…fancy. I wanted to, couldn’t think of anything and then that damn mutant went on a rampage over in-”

“Lo-” You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone told me you’ve been stressing over it, so that’s why I took care of it.”

“Everyone?” Logan quirked a brow. Then rolled his eyes, as he felt his cheeks heat up. “No one can keep their mouth shut around here…” 

You giggled, cupping his face with your hands, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, distracting him from his irritation from everyone else. He smiled into your kiss, leaning forward into you, as his hand pushed against your back, as if he couldn’t get close enough to your persons. You parted with a gasp, eyes dazed from him. 

“Well, since you got this part covered.” He mutters softly as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’ll make sure the rest of the night won’t be forgetful.”

You giggled at his insinuation. “I got a surprise for later, by the way.” You say. He leaned his head, taking a look at you questioningly. “You’ll like it.” 

He hummed. “I’m sorry again that I-”

“Logan, hush.” You stop him. “All I’d ever want is you. I don’t need a bunch of fancy gifts for you to show me you love me. I just want you.” 

He smiled, genuine and broad, he leaned closer to you again, pecking your forehead. “Same here, bub.” He responds softly. 

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ Til’ The Moon n’ Back.

Short Summary: This year you’ll spend another ordinary Valentine’s Day, all by yourself. Or that you think—until you receive a mysterious letter.

Warnings: 18+ only! soft impact play, brief fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, also this is kinda ooc!Tom bc how do I make this man engage in Valentine’s Day activities.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 💋🩷

wordcount: 2,4k

Tom Riddle does not do love.

So why is it that every time you walk past him, his heart beats just a little bit faster?

He’s done everything to distract himself—drowning himself in books, studying more than what is usual, even for someone called Tom Riddle.

Yet, you never fail to leave his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get the thought of you—specifically your lips on his—out of his mind.

By sweet Merlin, that’s the worst part of it all.

──

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Safe to say—you aren’t interested in a relationship.

So it shouldn’t bother you that all of your friends are out with their partner. But it does, your chest tightening at the thought of spending another night alone on a day that’s meant to be celebrated with your loved ones. It’s always been like this though, they’ve had their fun, and you—well, you stayed behind.

You decide to head to bed early. Right after dinner, which was awfully boring with none of your friends around, you make your way back to your dorm. Or try to, at least. Because as soon as you turn the corner, someone bumps into you.

Not just anyone—Tom Riddle. Head boy, former prefect, top student in every class, teacher’s favourite, award winner… you could go on like this for hours. There is probably nothing in this world that he hasn’t achieved—except for finding a Valentine’s date, it seems.

“I am sorry,” you mumble as you crouch down to pick up a piece of paper he has dropped. And it’s really not that you wanted to know what was written on it—it must have been the familiar number that caught your eye—the number of your dorm to be exact.

Though slightly taken aback, you hand him the paper—or better—he rips it from your hands. For a moment when his lips part slightly, you think he might want to say something in return—maybe apologize for bumping into you—but nothing ever comes.

So you leave, shooting him a weak smile.

It’s not like you expected an apology from him. He has his close circle of friends, all of whom are from renowned pureblood families. Even if you wanted him to like you, look at you the same way you’ve looked at him for years, it wouldn’t change a thing. Tom Riddle was unreachable. Any girl that has ever been interested in ended up getting rejected, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Yet, the rich scent of his perfume lingers, the way his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment imprinted in your mind. His hands brushing over yours briefly, feeling his warmth, the warmth you’ve been craving to feel on your skin—

You shake your head. You’re interpreting too much into it.

──

Tom curses himself for almost blowing his cover.

After hours of contemplation, hours of sitting in front of a blank piece of parchment, he finally writes something down.

My dear—

He scoffs. Pathetic.

Scrunching up the paper, he discards it on the wooden floor of his dorm.

I hope this letter finds—

Definitely not.

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at—

Please? Who is he to beg? You should be the one begging for— fuck.

Twenty crumpled-up pieces of parchment later, Tom’s had enough.

He opts for something shorter.

Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.

Perfect.

──

You are tucked under your duvet, putting the romance novel you had started on the nightstand. It was only 8pm, but with nothing else to do, sleep didn’t seem like the worst option. Soon enough, your eyelids flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep.

Though, it isn’t too long before a sharp knock on the glass of your window wakes you. It’s your owl, delivering a letter. Quite an unusual time for you to receive something, yet curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your window to get it.

No sender.

Reluctantly, you tear the envelope open, and your eyes skim over the words written on the parchment.

“Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.” You whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. You don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone's you know, and as soon as you wipe over the words, the ink smears, vanishing, leaving you with an empty parchment.

At first, you are quite unsure whether to go. There’s no name on the letter, and especially on a day like today, there will be stricter enforcements of the curfew rules. Though, knowing yourself, you would have probably gone anyway. Even on a day like this, the moon and the stars are the only company you crave.

So you change, folding your PJs neatly on your bed, putting on the first skirt you find—though as soon as you step out of your dorm, you regret your decision. Tonight is cooler than usual, a soft breeze brushing past your skin, having you shiver. It’s too late to turn around, though. So you make your way, walking the route you normally take when you sneak out past curfew.

As you ascend the stairs to the tower, a figure leaning against the railing catches your attention. Only when you take a few steps closer do you recognize who it is. The brunette curls are unmistakably Tom’s, and for a moment your breath catches in your throat, halting your movements. Knowing that he is most likely on his patrol, you turn around to return to your dorm, but as you do just that, his voice stops you.

“You came.” He remarks quietly, without turning around.

It is him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Riddle, if this is some kind of—“

“Come closer.”

You walk forwards then, though reluctantly, and lean against the railing next to the brunette. It’s silent between the both of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“They fascinate you, don’t they?” He asks subtly, staring into the distance of the night sky. You follow his gaze, taking in the stars and moon on the otherwise pitch-black horizon. “You watch them each night when you can’t sleep.”

You turn your head then, looking at him briefly. You want to ask how he knows, yet you decide to keep it to yourself. Instead, you answer honestly.

“It’s a rare constant in my life. They help me calm down, especially after a long day.”

He gives you a soft nod in return, and silence returns between the both of you, left with owls howling in the distance. There’s still snow on the ground, and it must be below freezing temperature, because when another cool breeze brushes past you, you shiver, scrunching up into yourself.

“Why am I here, Riddle?”

Tom finally turns towards you then, a spark of something softer shimmering in his otherwise so strict chocolate-brown eyes, and he takes a measured step closer.

“You didn’t have any other plans tonight, did you?” He asks, in a way that’s implying he already knows the answer—because what does he not know—and you shake your head no.

“Then that is why.”

You part your lips to question him but are interrupted by his hand reluctantly reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your cheek, trying, testing, before his hand wanders to your neck. His thumb draws small, soft patterns on your jaw, and you tense slightly at the contact. He stops then momentarily, watching your softened expression, but when you don’t complain, he continues.

His gaze flicks to your lips, the air between the both of you growing thick with tension as he slowly leans in. Your surroundings fade into a blur, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

Tom Riddle is kissing you.

The kiss isn’t what you’d expect of someone like him—it’s soft, tender, your lips moving in sync as his second hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer.

Soon enough, he has you pressed against the railing, lips only parting from yours when a soft moan falls over your lips. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, then he goes back to kissing you as his fingertips trail up the soft skin of your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

“Okay?” He murmurs, waiting for a verbal agreement before turning you around, adjusting your position with a firm grip on your waist. He bunches the skirt around your hips, delivering a soft smack to the round curve of your now exposed ass.

A soft whimper falls over your lips, and you slightly lurch forward at the contact, but he is quick to reposition you, pulling you back to him.

It is most likely the choice of your underwear that has him go silent, fingers softly tracing along the lace of your burgundy thong, though he is quick to rid you of the last piece of fabric covering your lower body. Tom makes you step out of it, crouching down to lift your leg. You only faintly notice that he puts it in his pocket, and time to complain is sparse because his hands are back on your exposed skin within a second, cutting off your thoughts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, drawing a soft mewl from your lips, “even more so than I thought.”

Another gentle smack, and you feel his hand gently massaging your thighs before they wander up further. He doesn’t proceed—he waits, lingering there for just a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, his voice soft, and you obey, parting your thighs to allow him better access. A whimper escapes your lips when Tom fully presses himself against you, making you feel the problem you’ve caused him.

His hand leaves your thigh, traveling up until he reaches your already soaked heat, humming as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal. One finger slips inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his touch.

A second finger enters you, stretching, preparing you for him. You appreciate it—but all you want is to finally feel him.

“Riddle, please— I need you.”

His fingers withdraw then, hand wrapping around your throat instead, tilting your head backwards as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“What’s my name?”

“Tom, God— please let me feel you, Tom.” You croak out, whimpering in defeat.

He lets you go then, the sound of him undoing his belt cutting through the night. “Good girl. Sounds so good when you say it.”

He casts a warming charm on you, a pleasant heat spreading through your body, and the next thing you feel is his tip nudging against your soaked entrance, slipping inside of you with a single, slow thrust. He groans when he’s inside of you completely—and it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

He’s told you to stay quiet—though that order is quickly forgotten when he sets a steady rhythm, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to leave bruises. The sound of his hips meeting yours with every thrust fills the air, accompanied by your moans and whimpers and occasional low groans of the man behind you.

“Spread your legs a little further for me, love.” Tom breathes, hand slipping between your legs once more as you do. Again, he finds your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing the bud in slow, circular motions.

As your moans grow louder, walls clenching around him, he angles his thrusts slightly differently, his tip brushing over your most sensitive spots inside of you.

“Oh— Tom, don’t— don’t stop, fuck—“

His palm lands on your ass once more, but this time you arch your back into his touch, thighs trembling at the electrifying sensations shooting straight to your core.

With one of his hands on your waist, pulling you back into the sharp snaps of his hips, the other wraps around your throat again, pulling you flush against his chest. Like this he is able to reach even deeper, tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust, providing you with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck— squeezing me so tight. That good?”

You only manage a nod in return, eyelids fluttering close as you near your climax, walls fluttering wildly around his invading length.

“Open your eyes and look at the sky when you come, darling.”

So you do.

With one last high-pitched moan, you tumble over the edge, hot, white pleasure rushing through your veins as your cunt clamps down around him, his hands on your hips as they stabilize you when your knees are about to give in.

Soon after, your mind still hazy with the aftereffects of your own orgasm, he empties himself inside of you with a low groan, hips stuttering as he is buried to the hilt, making sure you take all of him.

Both of you stay like this for a while, catching your breath. Only when the warming effects of the charm he casted on you wear off does he pull out of you slowly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips at the loss. He fixes your skirt for you, takes care of his appearance before his arm wraps around your waist, helping you stand upright.

“I will need that back,” you say, pointing to the lace half hanging out of his pocket.

He tucks it away completely then. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, leaning back against the railing.

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips but fades as he studies you in the faint glow of the moonlight, his expression turning more serious.

“Did so well for me,” he says after some time, voice soft again, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You blink in confusion. Surely he didn’t—

“I wish you could see yourself the way you see the stars and the moon.” He goes on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are worthy of love.”

You shake your head. “Tom—“

Before you can protest, he presses his lips on yours, cutting off whatever words you were trying to form.

“I want you to teach me,” he exhales then, wrapping his coat around your shoulders, “how to love. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

this was requested by my lovely @riddleswhcre 🩷 thank you so much for requesting baby!! you already know I am not particularly happy with how this turned out, but I hope it was still somewhat alright. <3

[sanesaviour]

Psst🤫 I heard yall like him so there is more of him ;)

I wanted to draw him in 2 fits but ended up with 4 lol, ANYWAYS now you have to read my headcanons brainrot bout him:

1. casual fit - I imagine him wearing fits like this all the time, at school at home just everywhere (it gives that old money rich boy energy)… in my head this is like during time when Peter got his spidey powers, still “happy” times, at this point he is very close with Peter and Mj, he spends most of his free time with them or at Peters place bc he don’t like to be home alone (yea in my version Norman is still the same shitty father, but at this point Harry still tries to get his attention)

2. formal fit - there is nothing really much to it, just wanted to draw him wearing suit lol (he wears it often tho to some kind of formal events, u know, rich people stuff)

3. Venom (hell yea) - pretty self explanatory, this is like 1 year after Peter became spiderman which means he have now less time for Harry and Mj, he have lot of work with hero stuff and S.H.I.E.L.D. and also at this time his team (why they didn’t gave team name at usm, I’m gonna call them Spidey team for now lol) starts attending same highschool as them, SO Peter is very secretive and his lame excuses don’t really work on Harry so he is angry about it, feels jelaous about Peter spending more time with other people and their friendship naturally starts slowly falling apart… therefore when Harry finds Venom he doesn’t really hesitate and takes it (yea he wears those venom watches like in show) and for while he become black suit spiderman, but as plot goes on due to his emotions (anger + daddy issues, this guy is mess) he slowly starts loosing control of Venom (he is somewhat still aware of his actions but he is way more agressive and brutal, also attacks Norman). There is like lot of fights between him and Spidey team, but at some point peter finds out about harry being venom so he instead of fighting tries his other super power - let’s talk about it, which obviously doesn’t work. His team still fights him as they seems to belive it is best way how to handle it… later harry also finds out about spideys secret identity so it become even more personal and messy… during last fight peter is one who defeats harry and takes away venom from him

4. post venom - harry now doesn’t really have anyone to trust, he doesn’t wear fancy clothes anymore (he wants to distant himself from the name Osborn), he starts smoking and skipping classes (maybe he even drops out of school but still not sure about that), Peter obviously tries to fix their friendship but it’s still broken beyond repair… althouh they know each others secrets they both won’t share it with world (they might not be friends anymore but they aren’t assholes). Also- I gave him scar, which is probably not from Peter but rather Ava (she scratched his face during one of the figts or something)

This is obviously not everything (it’s like season 1) but the post is already way too long. Also sorry for how shitty my writing is (ain’t writter, just artist), but I still hope you enjoyed my rant :))

[bellysoupset]

heeeyyyy back at it again with me requesting my girl lollll <3 (only bc you asked for requests!!! (i’ve been dying to request sth but didn’t wanna be annoying))

soo i’ve been craving some wen/jon for a bit bc ofc i have💀 SO I WAS THINKING!! (this is so specific and long im so sorry) what if wen starts to get sick at work and jon gets worried and annoys her into leaving work early. and so he takes her home but then on his way home he starts feeling bleh too and kinda just falls asleep when he gets back. BUT THEN wen gets worse and in the middle of the night calls jon bc she’s like super sick and out of it and feverish and alone, but bc jon is also pretty sick, it just ends up being leo taking care of both of them <333 the more angsty the better ofc but also no worries if it’s not ♥️

no pressure at all to write this bc i know it’s pretty detailed and idk if you’d like this prompt? but i just thought i’d ask heheheheh <3333

(on a completely different short note,, vin+wen are so adorable with max aahhhh i was blushing throughout that whole cabin trip fic🤭🥹)

as always, KEEP SLAYING!!!!

- 🦦

Otter!! You're back! How are you, honey?

Loved the request 💕TW: there's some fatphobia talk towards the middle, Wendy about herself (triggered by the fever).

----

As lunch arrived, Wendy knew something wasn't right.

Many things weren't right, to be more specific. Bell and Luke were occupying the back of her thoughts, as she carried the secret, and then there was the fact Vince and Luke didn't seem to be talking, again, and well... Wendy felt silly for being so drained over problems that weren't truly hers, but she was.

Jonah, on the other hand, seemed to be on cloud nine lately. Oblivious to the outside world, he couldn't smile more if he tried and Wendy had overheard the nurses giggling about the doctor being in such a good mood.

Through some stroke of a miracle her schedule was coinciding with Jon's this week and they sat together in the cafeteria, Jonah having lunch before he left and her halfway through her shift. He pulled his chair to be side by side with hers and scrolled through his phone as he showed her several pictures of the venues he was considering.

She couldn't look at her plate, revulsion swimming in her belly, and Wendy pushed the dish away, grabbing her juice bottle and leaning back against her seat.

"That's a gorgeous place," she said, as Jonah scrolled past a picture of a whimsical fairytale venue. He scrolled back up and raised his eyebrows as if agreeing.

"Pretty, but not really our speed," he zoomed in the picture, "we're not the fairytale type."

"Uhm..." Wendy pinched her nose bridge and moved closer on her seat, so she could press her cheek to Jonah's shoulder. He raised a surprised eyebrow at the touch, but didn't say anything, "I guess. You're looking at more of a sleek vibe?"

"Yes, classical, but modern..." Jonah saved the item anyway and when Wen made a puzzled expression, he opened a sneaky smile, "for when it's your turn."

She rolled her eyes, without any energy even to blush at the implication, "not any time soon," Wendy planted her elbow on the table and gulped down as the smell of food assaulted her. She pulled back, breathing slowly out of her mouth and when she opened her eyes again, Jonah had pocketed his phone and was staring at her openly.

"You're sick," he accused, squinting, and Wendy shook her head.

"No, I'm not," convincing enough, Wendy mentally patted herself on the back, "just a long week-" it had been, Jonah couldn't deny that...

He rolled his eyes, "uh-hu," Jon scoffed, reaching without hesitation and planting his hand to her forehead. Wendy jumped back, spooked, but it had been enough for him, "and did your long week give you a fever, Dee?"

Wendy's cheeks flushed, but she also couldn't help the squeeze in her heart at the nickname. Whenever Jonah called her that, she melted. She let out a sigh, "I have three more hours to go, I can power through-"

"Darling, no," Jonah scoffed, getting up and gesturing for her to do the same, "you don't just have a fever, you're clearly queasy too and you don't wanna be stranded in the doctor's headquarters when that hits in full force... C'mon, I'll drive you home."

Wendy hesitated, chewing on her lip, but Jon only rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, ushering her up, "no point arguing, Wen," he scolded her, pushing her forward.

The change of positions caused her head to swim and Wendy stumbled, pressing herself against his arm and taking a shallow breath, "Oh crap... Yeah, get me out of here," she pinched her nose bridge and squeezed her eyes until the world came back into focus.

Jonah followed her like a shadow as she clocked out early and requested a replacement. His own shift was already over and he seemed unbothered by the bureaucratic process that was a doctor leaving early, scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up as Wendy stumbled over her own feet.

Finally they were in his car and Wendy pressed her forehead to the cold window, letting out a soft burp under her breath as Jon circled the vehicle. There was a ding-ding-ding over her head as the driver's door opened and closed, then Jon's hand was on her back, "Dee?"

Wendy swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth and leaned back on the seat, "I'm okay..." she turned her head to look at him, everything felt horrible and sluggish, "are... Are you okay?" now she frowned, even through the fever haze able to pinpoint something was off with her best friend.

Usually, Jonah's skin was a russet, reddish-brown, but when he got pale all the warmth seemed to be depleted, an ashy tone taking its place. Besides that, his lips seemed to melt into his skin, despite normally being a dark shade of earthy-pink.

"I'm fine," he started the car and Wendy squinted at him, the motion doing nothing to ease her nausea. She muffled another little burp on her hand, blushing and mumbling a weak "excuse me..."

Jonah waved her off and Wendy squirmed on her seat, "you're not feeling well either, are you?"

"I'm fine," he repeated, stealing a glance at her, "you're gonna make yourself sicker in this position, seat correctly and put on your seatbelt."

"Yes, dad," Wendy rolled her eyes, but obeyed and closed her eyes, leaning back her head. Her stomach was churning uncomfortably, the small amount she had been able to eat at lunch sloshing around and causing a burn on the back of her throat. She planted a hand on her belly, rubbing it lightly, and blushed even more at the thought of how gross she probably looked...

The car came to a slow stop and she felt the back of Jonah's hand pressed to her cheek, "you're really warm, Wendy," he said, his voice sounding frustrated, "were you feeling sick since morning?"

"Were you?" She grumbled, then cupped a hand over her lips as the little line caused more acid to trickle her throat and a weak gag. The car started moving again.

"I'm not sick," Jonah scoffed, in denial. Wendy let out a huff, if she had puked already he could pass it off as sympathy sickness but as it stood... She opened her eyes, looking at him. There was a glint of perspiration all over his face and Jonah had a grimace on, not counting on her studying him.

The idiot.

Turning her head had been a bad idea, because it caused a wave of carsickness to hit her and Wendy felt sticky all over. She closed her eyes again, breathing out slowly and gulped down... The act of swallowing caused another gag and she vaguely heard Jonah cursing-

The car came to a second stop and Wendy opened her eyes just as Jon leaned over her, pushing her door open. Wendy leaned out and the seatbelt squeezed her in the middle like a rope, around her neck and tickling her gag reflex.

She let out a sob as her lunch made a nasty reappearance in one chunky splash on the asphalt. Wendy coughed, trying to clear her throat and reached blindly to get rid of the seatbelt, only for a pair of hands to aid her.

Her belly clenched again and Wendy had barely any time to push her hair out of the way before another stream came up, more liquid this time around and burning her throat.

She sniffled, pitifully, ears unblocking as the retching tapered off, and she was left gasping for air and trying to spit out the horrible taste.

"Here," Jonah's voice was very soft as he pushed a bottle of lukewarm water in her hands, "swish it around," he instructed and Wendy obeyed, spitting out the stale water and coughing once more before sitting back.

Jon pushed her hair behind her ears and Wendy sniffled, angrily trying to get rid of the tears clinging to her lashes. She hated throwing up, not only the horrible sensation, but how vulnerable and disgusting it made her feel. Clearly Jon could read it all on her face, because despite the fact his own pallor had moved straight into corpse-grey territory, he cupped her cheeks and offered her a strained smile, "you're okay," he stroked her cheek with his thumbs, "take a breath, darling."

It was so soft and Wendy was feeling so incredibly wretched, that all the gentleness had the opposite of the desired effect, causing another sob to bubble up and tears to well in her eyes, "I don't feel well..."

"I know, I know," Jonah frowned at her, all but mounting the handbrake as he pulled her into a hug, "I know, Dee. Shhh-"

She clung to his sweater, curling up on the passenger seat and trying to burrow her face in the crook of Jonah's arm, crying in the awkward hug that was more of a headlock. Jon made a wounded noise, but didn't pull back, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

It took her a handful of minutes before the tears stopped and Wendy pulled back from the embrace, wiping at her face. Her head was throbbing now from crying and her eyes hurt, like she had accidentally spilled shampoo in them and done a poor job of washing it off. Jon was watching her closely, "Wen?"

"I'm sorry-" Her voice sounded like she had just gargled with glass, "sorry... Can we go?"

He nodded, before pausing and lowering his forehead to the steering wheel, raising his index as if asking her to stand-by. Wendy raised her eyebrows, planting a hand on his back, "Jon..." She cooed, "sweetheart, you're not well..."

Which was bad, considering he was the one driving.

Jonah didn't bother denying this time around, instead he just squeezed his eyes shut, taking a measured breath, "just a little dizzy..."

"Is it a vertigo episode?" Wendy asked, continuing to rub her hand up and down his back.

He frowned, not opening his eyes, "no... Just give me a minute, Dee."

Understanding he wanted silence, Wendy clammed her mouth shut and focused on getting a hold of herself. Throwing up hadn't made even a dent on her nausea and she still felt like her stomach was filled with liquid, but at least her mouth wasn't watering like crazy anymore. She was freezing, which made sense considering the car door was open and it was January...

Wendy slammed it shut, shuddering, and Jonah startled, sitting back up. As he moved, he let out a large burp, hand moving up to muffle it, but being a second too late. He wrinkled his nose, cheeks turning dark with a blush, "sorry..." his voice was all distorted, deep in his chest and Wendy shrugged.

"It's fine," she rubbed his arm, "you feel better?"

It was clear that he didn't, but Jonah grit his teeth and nodded, "yeah. Let's get you home."

--------------------

Jonah wasn't sure what had hit him. In one minute he had been waiting for Wendy to clock out of work, texting Leo that he'd be taking her home so probably not have the full afternoon free like he had planned, and in the other there was cold sipping down to his fucking bones.

The speed at which his condition had deteriorated had been alarming, but not as much as seeing his best friend bawl her eyes out. Wendy was a crier when it came to movies, but not when it was her life. It made his stomach squeeze into a horrible knot as she clutched his arm and sobbed like a little kid.

Her cheeks were a blazing red and her green eyes were droopy with fever by the time he parked in her garage, taking her spot. Wendy swayed dangerously on her feet as she got out and Jonah circled the car, wrapping his arm around her back, "we're almost there," he promised, squeezing her and fighting the urge to rattle her like a toy. It was awful to see her this down for the count.

Wendy leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his chest and gulping down loudly as they entered the elevator, "my stomach... I'm going to be sick, Jon..." she groaned and Jonah's own stomach churned at the warning. He couldn't even fathom the possibility of dealing with vomit when his lunch was sitting like a brick inside.

"We're almost in your apartment," he soothed her, pressing the 6th button twice more, just out of anxiety. Wendy let out a little burp, sickly wet, and gulped down, not saying a thing. She didn't even excuse herself, which was wildly out of character.

Jonah counted the seconds, looking up and gulping the sticky sensation in his mouth. It felt like his tongue was too big for it and he felt the urge to open his jaw and breath through his mouth like those dogs, but he knew this was only going to make him gag. His body luring him into a trap.

Wendy let out a groan, wrapping an arm around her stomach and sniffling, "Jon..."

"Almost there," he repeated, leg bouncing nervously, "try to hold it..." he bossed, before adding a weak, "I'm sorry."

Wendy gulped down again, pressing a hand to her mouth and shuddering violently, whole spine curling as she retched, but it was non-productive.

The elevator came to a stop and immediately Jonah was jumping ahead, grabbing the emergency keys that he had and unlocking the door as Wendy sprinted under his arm.

She rushed into the powder room and he heard the distinctive noise of her heaving, but Jonah couldn't bring his own feet to move. He pressed his forehead to the front door, shutting it with his weight and breathed slowly through his mouth. His stomach let out a nasty gurgle and Jon wrapped an arm around it, waiting until the cramp eased up.

Down the hall he heard a crash and Jonah sprung into action, the gnawing sensation in his stomach be damned. Wendy had collapsed down in front of the toilet, but she had tried to get up and put too much of her weight on the towel holder, causing the whole thing to collapse.

She was curled up on the ground, with the towel crumped next to her, a cut on her knee and through her lilac pants and the metal structure hanging by one handle on the wall.

"Wendy," Jonah couldn't help but let out a surprised chuckle at the image, although his smile faded as she heard her sniffle.

"I'm horrible," it was the fever speaking, he knew, but it didn't stop Jonah from feeling a pang in his chest as she sat there with a bruised knee and trying really hard not to start crying again, "I'm a whale, I broke the stupid thing-"

"Oh Wendy, shush it," Jonah scoffed, crouching down and avoiding looking at the toilet, closing the lid and gulping down, "that thing was a piece of crap, stop with this nonsense," he scolded her sharply, rolling up her pants and cringing at the purple bruise already forming.

Wendy let out a whimper, curling up against her bathtub and angrily wiping the tears on the corner of her eyes, "I wanna go to bed..." She wrapped her arms around her stomach, groaning softly as she rocked back and forth, "Jon..."

"Are you gonna be sick again?" He asked, moving closer to her and reaching to uncurl her from the position. Wendy hesitated, whole face wrinkling up with a grimace.

"I'm not sure..." She gulped down, "my stomach feels awful..."

"Okay," Jonah knew, deep down, that moving her was a bad idea, but he couldn't deny her anything when she looked this pitiful, "okay, c'mere-" he wrapped an arm behind her back, helping her up and the minute he did, Wendy lunged for the toilet once more, throwing the lid open hastily as she barely had any time before bringing up another wave of vomit.

It splattered all over the seat and Jonah was forced to let go of her as his lunch immediately rushed up, causing him to throw himself onto the sink. He covered his ears with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as the foamy vomit fell into the bowl and his stomach convulsed several times.

Behind him, even with his ears covered, he heard the loud noise of flushing and Wendy coughing several times. Jonah let out a sick burp, panting and spitting the ropes of saliva still pooling in his mouth, "I'm-I'msssorry..." he slurred, feeling like the worst friend ever. He had taken Wendy home and now there he was being an even bigger burden.

Wendy answered him with a groan, pushing the lid closed once again and stumbling up, using his belt as support. She clumsily planted a hand on his back, patting completely out of rhythm, "are you good...?"

Jonah nodded, burping under his breath twice more and taking a drink from the tap, washing the bowl with his eyes closed before daring to open them, "yeah..." he met her eyes on the mirror, green and drowsy, "I'm good... Let's get you into bed."

Together they stumbled down the hall almost like drunks and Wendy immediately collapsed on the bed, kicking off her shoes and burying her face on the pillow. Jonah stood, awkwardly, next to her bed. In some recess of his mind he knew there were things he should be doing. Water, thermometer. Bucket.

However, his body felt so heavy and he was struggling to think through the fever — Wendy's fingers wrapped around his wrist and she tugged, hard, on his arm, pulling him down. There wasn't a bone in his body to fight it and Jonah immediately collapsed down, barely avoiding crushing her with his body.

Her pillow was cool and soft and he let out a groan, rolling on the bed and breathing out. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning once more, nausea starting to prickle him all over. Wendy pushed her back against his arm and Jonah forced his eyes open, staring at the side of her face. The redness coloring her cheeks was down her neck and exposed chest, like angry marks.

"Wendy...?"

"Uhm?" Wendy's eyes were closed and she was taking deep breaths, facing up the ceiling. Jonah scooted closer, feeling like he was freezing and seeking out her warmth.

"Are you leaving...?" He rasped out, staring intently at her. Wendy frowned, opening her eyes.

"Are you kicking me out my own bed...?"

"What?" Jonah blinked at her, flabbergasted, struggling to understand, "no, I- No! Are you leaving to Doveport?" he asked, then raised a hand to interrupt her answer, turning his face and muffling a sick burp against the pillow. Acid tickled his throat and he gagged, but it was unproductive.

Jonah moved his face away from the pillow, wiping the drool from his lips and Wendy was staring at him, unimpressed, her lids heavy with exhaustion, "I think I should call Leo," she whispered, her voice weak and Jon frowned at her.

"Why? Does Leo know...?"

"You're delirious," she groaned, pushing herself up, "you're not making any- Any sense..." Wendy shivered violently, eyes scanning the room for her phone, although her purse had been dropped by the front door.

Jonah grabbed her hand, stopping her from getting up from the bed, "so no? You're not leaving?" he pulled her down once again and Wendy frowned, pressing her hand to his cheek, trying to check his fever, although it was nearly impossible considering how warm she was.

"No, I'm not leaving-" she cupped his forehead, "you don't feel that warm..."

Jonah grumbled something, closing his eyes and reaching blindly, wrapping his hand on her shoulder and tugging her down on the bed, so he could hide his face against her neck, "you need to rest-" he rasped out and Wendy squirmed under him, but not trying to pull away. Instead, she wrapped herself around him and Jonah grimaced as he felt her arm wrap around his middle, his stomach sloshing at the movement.

Wendy let out a deep sigh, muffling a cough against his chest and he decided he could deal with everything in a moment, he just needed to rest his eyes for a minute.

TBC

[whodecidedweneedrealityanyway]

Was diagnosed with hypermobile knees before my legs got as thick and just went to stand in front of a mirror as comparison and I’m gonna say ‘probably’. You have to do a bit of imagining to figure out what angle the bones inside of your legs would be sitting at, and determine based on that, but our kneecaps feel similar. For sure it’s overextended, bc you should keep a lil bend in it at all times apparently. I ALSO think that’s just what legs should look like, bc I’m used to looking at my family’s hypermobile ones, which is uh. Probably indicative in and of itself

Low-key it doesn’t super matter if your knees are hypermobile if you’re not going to do anything about it, and THAT mostly depends on whether it’s currently causing you problems. My everything hurts all of the time and I spent years basically being told to exercise and not strain myself before I ended up with a physical therapist who specialized in EDS and was able to teach me what the normal range of motion should be, so muscles could pick up the ligament slack, which is when I stopped injuring myself every time I walked. Finding PTs who can deal with hypermobility in general can be tricky bc most PT are injury recovery and not ‘learn how every joint should move’, but ones who specialize in EDS cover other hypermobile issues by default

I went looking for an EDS diagnosis bc a connective tissue disorder could explain some of my other health fuckery, but I didn’t actually need that for PT, which is mostly how you treat hypermobility. If you too have pain in the everywhere, starting with the EDS diagnostic pipeline can help just bc it’s made for folks who are hypermobile and will get you to the end result of ‘learn how to move in ways humans are supposed to’, but if you’re not chronically overextending or subluxing and this is just a curiosity you can prob talk to a doctor at your next checkup and be like ‘side note, my friends say I’m hypermobile? Do you know how legs should look?’

okay. so. it was brought to my attention that i might be kinda hypermobile maybe. and i keep looking at my knees but i can't tell if my thighs are just big. and whenever i ask anyone i know in person they also can't tell if my thighs are just big.

i have realized i have ONE (1) good picture of my leg in profile when it's what i think of as straight. however the context is... i can't post this whole picture. i think cropping makes it worse.

HOWEVER. for science. i am going to post the crop after the cut to get tumblr's professional opinion on whether my knee is fucky or my thighs are just thick as hell. and you're all legally required to be nice to me. tumblr users familiar with knees-too-bendy disorder: is the knee on the left too bendy?

[mikibwrites]

Fuck it Friday

It's 4:13AM and I just wrote a scene in a wip I haven't touched in over a year, so that's something! Here's a gift for those who continuously tag me every week in wip games, you don't know how much I appreciate you, even when I'm having such horrible writer's block. This is from my TrueBlood AU, in which I am attempting to rewrite each episode of LS, except it takes place in the TB universe. It's slow going bc of the changes I have to make BUT it still lives in my head all the time. So here's something a little sad and angsty, but maybe hopeful? This is from 1x08, so you have context, but obviously things are different ;) It's a long one, too. An entire scene, 1k! So there's more under the cut :)

Hours later, his father had gone home exasperated and TK couldn’t find it in himself to care. The sweet nurse was back. This time, for some reason, he clocked her name badge: Traci. 

Traci didn’t pay him any mind as she grabbed the chart off the end of Carlos’ bed, checked his heart rate, oxygen saturation, all the monitors and lines connected to his body. She pulled out a penlight and carefully, so very gently, raised his eyelids to shine the beam into his pupils. TK knew she’d find no reaction, but he also knew it was another thing to check off a list, just in case. 

Traci went through the entire checklist in silence, not acknowledging TK at all, which was odd. She usually had a kind smile for him, even if it reminded him of his father’s—a little exasperated. But this time she ignored him entirely as she went about her duties. He wondered if he’d annoyed her enough that her kind demeanor—her customer service face, he almost snorted to himself—had fallen by the wayside when he was the only one present in the room. He’d become furniture, which was fitting, since he felt like he’d solidified in place. He hadn’t moved a single muscle in hours, not even needing to breathe to put on a good show for anyone. 

Finally, Traci hooked the chart back on the end of the bed, but instead of leaving the room without a word as TK expected her to do, she turned and looked right at him.

For a moment, her eyes were hard, determined, but it seemed like this sweet woman was incapable of harshness because they softened after only a moment, looking at him with something like pity. It didn’t even raise his hackles like it normally would. He had no strength left to care what she thought of him.

“Listen,” she began softly, still standing a few feet away from. “I don’t know much about vampire health, but I do know about the bleeds. You need to sleep soon, or feed, or you’ll die.”

“I’m already dead,” was TK’s rote answer. She sighed, and he could tell she was slightly annoyed at him but didn’t want to show it. 

“I can bring you a bag from the—”

“No.” He almost winced at his harsh tone, his nature creeping out of him a bit, snarling. 

She didn’t question why he wouldn’t take a blood bag from their supply, just moved on. He was oddly thankful amidst his melancholy. 

“Then let me find you a light-tight room for a couple of hours. Please, you need to rest. Do you think, when he wakes up, he’ll want to see you like this? Not taking care of yourself?” TK could applaud her tactic, appealing to his very obvious care for the man in the hospital bed, but he had an answer for that too. 

“To be honest, he probably won’t want to see me anyway. It’s not like we’re anything serious.”

She raised a very skeptical eyebrow at him. He couldn’t blame her. He was purposefully slowly killing himself holding vigil for a man he’d pushed away at every slight show of something deeper between them. He probably should have taken this as a sign from the universe that he should cut ties with Carlos for good, that being around TK wasn’t safe for him. The worst part was, what happened had nothing to do with the supernatural at all; it was just Carlos’ job and it’s random, merciless dangers that landed them here. But TK couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a sign from the universe anyway. 

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word on that. Please, let me find you somewhere to rest, and you can come back in a couple of hours.” Her face was all sympathy, almost pleading.

“Why do you care what happens to me, anyway?” I’m a monster from your nightmares, he doesn’t say out loud, a qualifier that isn’t needed but true all the same. 

“I’m a nurse. Caring about people is in the job description,” she says with a casual shrug. 

“I’m not people.” It’s a true statement, full stop.

“See, I don’t believe that. I think everyone, good or bad, living or dead, has a right to health and happiness. And right now, I care about his health and your health and also my own sanity, so I can’t watch this anymore without doing something about it. Also, I’m pretty sure I could take you right now, in the state you’re in, so don’t try me again. I’ll be back in a moment.”

With that, she breezed out of the room and TK was left floundering. She was right, though; she could probably bully him into any position she chose right now, given how much his body had deteriorated without rest or blood. He felt like he’d melt into the floor soon. 

When she returned less than ten minutes later, she practically did just that. She threw a heavy blanket over him and grabbed his wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. “Can you stand?”

“Maybe,” he said honestly. 

He let her help him from the chair, unsteady on his feet and leaning on her more than he would like to admit. 

“There’s no windows between here and where we’re going, but I brought the blanket just in case. Come on, we’re even staying on this floor. But if you sass me one more time, I’m putting you down in the morgue.”

That almost startled a laugh out of him, more an exhalation of air than anything else. 

The room she brought him to had two small cots and a row of five lockers. A break room of sorts. What he really needed was to go to ground, an enclosed space near the surface of the earth would rest him properly, but if this was the best he was getting it was more than he deserved. She didn’t turn the light on when they entered, which he was grateful for. The harsh lights of the hospital were already getting to him, another thing he didn’t want to admit, but she seemed to instinctively know how to handle his needs in the moment. 

She guided him over to a cot and helped him sit. He was nearly instantly horizontal, like a felled tree, but he was grateful when his head hit a pillow and not something hard like the cot’s frame. He lost track of the passage of time while she tucked him in like a sweet mother, taking care with him like he was someone worth caring about. Like he was human. 

“Sleep, and I promise I’ll come wake you myself if there are any changes, okay?”

He looked at her wryly with all the strength he had left, his body already drifting into a state of altered consciousness. “You’d wake a sleeping vampire? You have a death wish?”

She scoffed at him with a smirk. “Did we not just establish that I could totally take you?”

He wanted to laugh at her, wanted to come back with something snarky but also menacing, but he was already out.

Tagging some Tarlos mutuals @herefortarlos @guardian-angle22 @bonheur-cafe @carlos-tk @paperstorm @basilsunrise @rmd-writes @lemonlyman-dotcom @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @firstprince-history-huh and also specifically thanking @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses and @strandnreyes for tagging me in other wip games :)

[carmenilla]

Honestly, I like byler, but it's never going to happen in my opinion. Mike is just insecure, he has depression and thinks badly about himself, Finn said it, romance was not on his mind when he met El because he thought he was unloveable, that definetly doesn't mean he didn't love her, instead it means that he considered her unapproachable. That is the reason why he is so teary in the monologue, he is telling her everything with the fear that he might lose her because what if, when everything is said, she still leaves him? The "crush on Mike" Will plot is uncomfortable and honestly I don't know how they are going to solve it, probs giving him a bf/ letting him get over Mike, maybe that's the reason the Duffers said Will grows up and he leaves some things behind. I do think Mike and El have a lot of scenes together, Im not saying a lot but at least some, everytime Mike is spotted somewhere that place is near to El.

Now I do not think they will end up together, but Mike loves her and she loves him, she just needs to go. And that would be a tearful ending for them

thanks for the respectful disagreement, unfortunately it's hard to come by nowadays.

"that definetly doesn't mean he didn't love her, instead it means that he considered her unapproachable." first off, i don't believe in love at first sight. i think it's cheap and uninteresting especially in a love story, that happens between twelve-year-olds. i also don't think you can be in love with someone just by looking at them once. you can be infatuated, sure, but that's not real love. you don't know anything about them. we also know that mike didn't love her at first sight because he tried to get rid of her the next morning so that they could keep looking for will. the only reason why he didn’t give her up is because she insisted and also he found out that she has powers. AND when he finds out that she has powers, he tells dustin and lucas that they should stick with her so that they can use her powers to find will. obviously there is a point where mike cares about el BEYOND just her powers and genuinely cares for her as a person, i’m not denying that. i do think they have a very strong bond. but mike did not love her at first sight. there is nothing that even implies that! mike definitely lied in his love confession in season four, but i digress. if you still don’t believe me here, i guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

“The ‘crush on Mike’ Will plot is uncomfortable and honestly I don't know how they are going to solve it, probs giving him a bf/ letting him get over Mike”. OR, they could make byler canon, and it would actually make sense for will’s plot and not just be really god awful writing. yes, it would be awful writing if will doesn’t end up with mike, and would be awful portrayal of a queer character and feel really gross. see my post here about why that would suck: https://www.tumblr.com/carmenilla/769363335461339136/ok-bc-if-byler-isnt-canon-they-really-just?source=share 

“that would be a tearful ending for them” in my opinion, it would be a bad ending for them, but i don’t feel like going into that. we’re just gonna have to agree to disagree on that part

i think byler will be canon because i believe it would be the best writing and make the most sense, and i do have faith in the duffers' writing abilities. if you like byler and want more proof, i recommend this video by our good old Byler Lawyer:

if you don't feel like that though, i guess we'll just have to see what happens in season 5

[t4tozier]

let's think about jayvik after the finale. they're magically alive and okay 👍

how do they get along with the other characters? what do they get up to in their free time? do they ever get pets? etc etc. head full of self indulgent happy jayvik bc they desperately need normalcy

hmmm this is very internesting. so in terms of their interactions with other characters i have to say that i realized that rather than arcane as a whole being my new hyperfixation it’s literally just jayvik (and zaundads to a lesser extent) so these hcs may be mid. but we persist

if jayvik don’t die then neither do jinx and vander. first of all. viktor doesn’t have the capacity to undo the warwickification of vander but they work something out

and i’ve always loved the hc of jayvik mentoring jinx and ekko so that definitely continues. chaos ensues but it’s good for jinx to have an outlet to create (and continue blowing things up) with adult supervision, and they both have new perspectives and creative ideas that occasionally make jayvik kick themselves for not thinking of it first

i don’t think that either jayce or viktor would be happy if they weren’t still innovating and creating, but they kind of. let hextech die out. which sucks, especially for jayce, whose entire life’s work had to be scrapped because they got too big for their britches, essentially.

i think jayce and viktor both deal with a lot of grief and guilt for their actions. they both blame themselves for the creation of hextech in the first place, jayce blames himself for killing viktor (even though vik understands after. yknow. everything) and that his idea was the one to lay waste to piltover. viktor, though jayce tries to insist that it was the hexcore controlling him and that he didn’t really know what he was doing, still feels responsible for his actions

but this time they have each other, and they have their friends, and it’s both harder and easier than it used to be to deal with their feelings

anyway onto the happy stuff

viktor and caitlyn have a wary sort of allyship. they both hold grudges but they try to get along for jayce’s sake

jayce is personally elated that cait has found someone. especially someone he can roughhouse because vi always brings out his immature side <3 he definitely gets his ass handed to him though

they both keep the long hair. jayce keeps the beard. viktor complains about beard burn but also thinks jayce looks very handsome with it so he suffers through it <3

viktor gets an axolotl. he loves that thing like a child.

jayce finds a stray dog on the streets after the war and feeds him. he ends up following jayce home and he has to sheepishly explain to viktor that he won’t leave jayce alone so he figured he should just bring him home.

viktor isn’t particularly mad about this—except for when the dog takes his spot in bed. that’s unacceptable. jayce will just scoop the dog up and put him on the other side so he’s the middle spoon between vik and the dog.

(also. jayce with a service dog ??)

…viktor with a service axolotl??

the arcane/astral plane did not completely heal either of them—they both still require their leg braces, and jayce gets a crutch for when it gets cold—but viktor’s no longer terminally ill. jayce cries when they find out.

even though the arcane no longer powers their inventions, they do go back to their initial ideas from way back when, bringing their inventions to the people, rebuilding the filtration system in zaun, building better and stronger mobility aids and prosthetics for anyone who needs it. the talis fortune pays for much of this—they no longer want investors, or anyone else, to tell them what they should build

[prncssie]

STRAWBERRY MERINGUE

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, hobie smokes weed, you’re drunk n contact high, you get it blown in your face, exhibitionism, kinda voyeurism, use of the word nigga, use of the word pussy and cunt, public sex, fingering f. receiving, oral m. receiving, sharing of cum, degradation barely ( use of the word bitch and slut once), choking but not really, brat taming if you squint, unprotected sex, pull out method, lmk if i missed anything! pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie takes a long drawl of the blunt between his lips. his eyes are half lidded and his head is tilted back. in the dim lighting, you can barely tell his scleras are red but they are, pupils low and moving slow across the scenery.

he’s careful, knowing that you hate the smell. he doesn’t get it, though. you grumble every time he sparks up, claiming the smell reminds you of body odor, until you’re intoxicated yourself.

tonight, you’re indulging a bit, drunk off mixed liquors so you don’t mind. it’s the last thing you’re thinking about when he sits up and slots his mouth over yours. he blows the smoke into you, ending with a sloppy kiss.

you don’t smoke, or at least that’s what you claim. in a way, you don’t, never actually putting the paper to your lips. you just steal whatever hobie gives you because in your pretty, little head, it’s somehow better.

your body feels heavy. you’re so crossed, not thinking about how you’re tonguing hobie down in front of his friends. they’re not paying you much attention, either. this isn’t surprising, not with the explicit details hobie sometimes shares. it happens every party anyway. as long as you are both intoxicated, you’re unable to keep your hands off each other.

you mewl when he adjusts you in his lap, one hand on your back to draw you forward. your eyes flutter and your hands run over the navy blue mesh of his top. his tongue piercing is warm and bumping against the roof of your mouth.

you’re straddling his lap, standing out in the group of punks with your sparkly pink tank top and denim miniskirt. underneath you, hobie is your opposite in low waisted jeans, distressed and dark. his chains are layered and occasionally clink against each other when he moves.

you’re so in love with him and his little v line, peeking through the sliver of skin visible. you’re too greedy, grinding against his studded belt. the rhinestones don’t bump and graze your sensitive parts enough.

“mm mm,” he hums against your lips. “not here.” he kisses your cheek and creates just a bit of space between you in an attempt to keep you settled. his heart swells at the adorable disappointment in your eyes but he knows better than to comment on it. you like to villainize whatever you can to get your way and he doesn’t want to deal with you the way he usually does right here with everyone’s somewhat watchful eyes.

you sulk when he grins. he only tunes you out and takes another huff of the rolled blunt. “you jealous?” he chuckles at the expression riri, one of his bandmates, sports.

her face is contorted in disgust, being the unfortunate one to catch you two at the wrong time. “no, you’re just gross. i’ve never seen a couple so all over each other than you.”

hobie merely raises his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “i told you she was coming. you knew what that meant.” he exhales the smoke in your face again, mockingly sneering at his friend when you welcome it.

you barely hear their conversation between the insatiable throbbing in your core and the need to get inside hobie’s skin. you cling on to him and rest your head in the crook of his neck. he rubs your side while you mindlessly litter dark purple hickies along his collar. his hands come up to graze your arm.

it’s his party, or rather, their party. in celebration, his band decided to have a small get together to celebrate the release of their mixtape. it was supposed to be small. now it’s turned into a house party with the amount of plus ones in attendance.

the music causes a buzz in your bloodstream. you’re delirious and horny out of your mind. somewhere down the line, you made the conscious decision to down a hefty amount of casamigos and now you’re dealing with the consequences. “ ‘bie,” you snivel. you take his hand and guide it in between your bodies until his fingers are over the growing and slightly damp spot over your panties. you pant when he applies pressure, swiping aimlessly back and forth.

the dull ache in your stomach is heightened because of his toying. your drunken mind has you trying to push down on him, only for him to remove his hand with a click of his tongue. “i told you not here. gonna have to wait, pretty girl.”

hobie can’t tell if he’s seeing things when your lips tremble. he squints, both trying to examine the details through the haze and deter you from throwing a tantrum. you’re already halfway there, assuming he doesn’t care about what you want. you’re just about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re interrupted, timed perfectly.

“hey hobes?”

both your heads turn, spotting another band member stood to the side.

karl looks untroubled as he crashes somewhere on the couch. he hums as he gets comfortable, eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous smile. “won’t believe what i gotta tell you.

“yeah?” hobie dangles one long arm off the back of the couch. he rests his head on his shoulder. the action both distracts and reminds you of your mission to decorate him in love bites.

you’re unaware of how karl turns, nodding his head in your direction. “some fucker wants to get to know your girl. saw us walking around and thought we were cool, thinks I can make something happen.”

you remain unaware still. the words don’t click in your head, no matter that hobie is speaking right here with you in his lap.

“oh?” he laughs a bit at the thought. it doesn’t bother him and happens more frequently than one would think. he’s gotten used to their gross antics but he doesn’t feel jealous. no, he’s pleased. pleased that someone else can recognize that he’s got the best girl. “hear that, princess? got a second boyfriend.” his eyes are downcast and on you.

you’re too dazed and busy to listen, covering every part of his skin until there is no space left. “don’t care,” you murmur. you’re not sure what you’re uncaring towards but it doesn’t matter. not when there are more important tasks to deal with.

hobie pulls you up by the neckline. he’s not shocked when you’re already glaring at him, convinced that, at this point, he’s torturing you. “you should. it’s rude to not speak to someone, you know.”

you feel so incredibly petulant beyond words. you blow a short breath through your nose. it takes you a second to find it, find your tone and patience. unfortunately, you can’t. “huh?” you snap.

fortunately, hobie doesn’t care. “you got a valentine or whatever the fuck. should go to talk to him.”

you know it’s not really a request.

it’s a game you both play, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see. as much as you hate being ripped away from him at times like this, you enjoy the game, too. it usually ends all hot and heavy, just how you like it.

before you’re standing he holds up a finger to karl, motioning the man to wait. hobie brings the blunt to his lip and immediately shotguns it into yours. he’s nasty about it, a hand groping your ass and rolling your hips down into his.

“jesus christ,” karl mutters. his face is scrunched up and even if the dark lighting, you can tell his cheeks are firetruck red.

yeah, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see.

you grin, patting karl’s shoulder as you stand. admittedly, you stumble a bit. your balance is all fucked up and you probably aren’t making the best decisions. “this will be you one day, bud.”

karl takes your hand in his. he can already tell you won’t be able to make it across the room without aid. you probably haven’t stood up since you sat down, too busy damn near dry humping hobie. “gee, i can only hope.”

hobie sighs, a deep rumble spreads in his chest. “not a scratch, karl.” he takes his eyes over you from head to toe, as slow as he can afford. they starting at your heels, up to the buns on either side of your head.

“we’re gonna go pimp her out, not to war.” the other rolls his eyes, trading his hand in yours to your elbow, both for more support and because he doesn’t know where you put it.

you both begin your trek around the quite spacious living room. you don’t know where you’re going and occasionally, you’re tripping over yourself. it’s not all that bad. most of the fault is because you decided to wear heels and even though they were thick and blocky, it didn’t do much in your current state.

your ankle wobbles and karl has to yank you upright. he doesn’t know how you haven’t injured yourself by now. maybe you are going to war, but with yourself. “what the hell? how much did you drink?”

you giggle with a shake of your head. “didn’t count. it’s fine! ‘m not blacked, just tipsy, maybe. oh and a little high.” you’re really not that far under the influence, you think. most of the influence is pure lust and when it’s subtracted from the occasion, you’re all bubbly.

karl looks over your shoulder. his attention is behind you and you see him wave someone over. “yeah well, try not to bust your ass. i’m calling that guy over now. his name is fuckin’ max or something like that.”

you completely forgot that’s what you came over for. it’s only been a few steps but between your bumbling and laughter, it slipped your mind. “oh. are you gonna stick around?”

“hell no,” karl sucks in his breath. his face twists and he points in pinky at hobie. “i don’t wanna be here when he gets up. you two are bad enough when you’re calm.”

sure enough, he’s still watching with a clear view from the couch in the corner. he lifts his fingers and wiggles them in a wave. you lick your lips at the sight of his hands. your pussy throbs at the thought of them pushing deep inside you.

“yeah, i’m out.” karl waves his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “i’ll be around if you need me. just call, i’ll hear you.” he doesn’t want to experience what you freaks are about to get into but he also doesn’t want to leave you here, faded with a man you don’t know.

he waits until the trade off happens and you’re left semi alone. you’re not exactly shy but nothing comes to mind. you’re uninterested, having already committing yourself to another. “max?”

“mark,” he says. he doesn’t look like anything interesting. sagging his jeans and wearing an ill fitting shirt. definitely not your type. if you lost him in a crowd, he’d disappear. his first mistake would be losing you in the first place.

however, if you want to be tossed onto the nearest surface, you have to push through it. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you flash a smile. you rock back on your feet, only to trip over yourself. without karl holding you up, you find yourself grasping for balance. an honest giggle leaves your lips at your clumsiness but it’s mistaken for delight.

mark’s hands grab at your waist and your first thought is how they don’t compare. they’re much smaller and he definitely isn’t handling you with care. you have to remind yourself not to frown when you’re jostled back onto your feet. “havin’ a lot of fun tonight? your nigga didn’t stop you?”

you can’t stop looking at his hand still holding on to you. if you weren’t turned off by his appearance, you are now with his lack of awareness. you make an excuse to bump his hand off when you “adjust” the top of your shirt. “who, karl? karl and i are not . . . definitely not.”

in mark’s head, this means you don’t have one. even if you did, there’s much doubt he’d care. “so what? you don’t have one then. you want one?”

“um . . .” you flick your eyes over to hobie. you know he’s still watching and knows it’s a universal sign that you can’t take anymore of this. “i do have one. just not him so . . .” you gather your hands together and curl them into each other.

“you can’t have friends? we don’t gotta do nothin’, just chill.” he speaks with his hands. they’re waving all in the air and smacking against each other. typically it wouldn’t annoy you but you really just don’t like this guy. “i mean, you don’t gotta tell him. he ain’t gonna go shit, anyway.”

you scoff to yourself. before you have a chance to defend your lanky little stick bug, a familiar presence subtly appears at your side.

you turn to him before he’s even looking at you.

his hand is on your cheek, gingerly. hobie isn’t glaring, nor is he smug but there’s something about him. as if he knows something mark doesn’t. and he does. he knows mark doesn’t stand a chance, knows he’s going to be upset someone like hobie has you wrapped around his finger. he knows he’s not going like the way he dresses and talks. he’s going to go off to his friends and call hobie a bitch and whatever other caveman words he can think of.

that’s exactly why he doesn’t stand a chance.

“made a new friend?” hobie finally looks at you. his gaze softens immediately and he moves forward to kiss your lips.

“something like that.” you sigh sweetly. even with your shoes, you don’t compare to his height. you have to pull yourself up. your aim is to deepen the kiss, biting his bottom lip when he doesn’t oblige.

hobie only pats your butt and you pout. “thanks for comin’, man. we really appreciate it.” he doesn’t offer any sign of respect. it won’t be returned. call him mean, say he’s stereotyping, but he has enough experience to know when someone will appreciate his presence and when someone won’t.

mark grimaces. he gives hobie a once over, obviously not happy with what he’s seeing. “this is your thing? shit. if i knew that, i wouldn’t have came.”

you feel something vile bubbling up in your throat. your stomach churns at his words. how dare he? he looks like every other person in the room, in this place that hobie pays for, and insults him like he’s worth something.

“well, it’s a good thing i told you then, huh? leave if you want to. have a good night.” hobie speaks before you do. he wraps his arm around your shoulder and slots his hand over your mouth. knowing your temper, he doesn’t need you making anything worse.

you both watch him stalk off in two different moods. hobie is just as calm as ever. he lets his aggression roll of his back like nothing. meanwhile, you’re grumbling about what a terrible person he is, how you don’t like him and anything you stands for.

“dumb bitch. that’s why you’re weird and bitchless.” you’re more upset he ruined the way things are supposed to go. hobie is supposed to take you in his arms and fluster both you and the third person. instead, you end up grumpy.

hobie chuckles. he massages your shoulder, adoringly watching you go on and on about how he sucks. “yeah? what’d he say to you?”

the thought alone has you groaning and going on another spiel. “he asked if you let me ‘have friends’ and ‘i don’t have to tell you’.” you crinkle your nose. as if you’d ever cheat and lie about it, or lie about anything at all. there’s no secrets in between you two and if there is any ever hesitation, it comes out eventually when the other person is ready. you can’t imagine keeping anything from him with ill intent. “you should have clocked him in the jaw,” you pivot and face him. you’re extra careful not to do it too fast and wrap your arms around his thin waist.

“while you’re standing right here? not gonna do that.” he hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you onto his waist. “you get hurt and i’ll blow this whole place up.���

with your little skirt, half your ass is out. you squeal, a hand going down to maintain as much modesty as you can. hobie is no help. he doesn’t care. his freak ass wants someone to see. getting rid of one person doesn’t mean everyone else’s eyes are no longer wandering.

he takes you back over to your original resting spot without struggle despite your wiggling and complaining that he isn’t doing anything to help you. he plops back down back, smirking when you’re bouncing from the impact. your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“you’re done smoking?” you look around the group and don’t see a blunt in sight. it’s surprising from them, considering they always pass around multiple in rotation every night. you were only gone for a few minutes.

“i am. they’re not.” hobie pulls the strap of your top up. it’s fallen and despite the view of your tits he got, he didn’t particularly want everyone else to see them. not yet, at least.

he runs his hands along the tops of your thighs, straddling him. his thumb dips dangerously on the inner and dig into your bikini line when they run high.

you draw a breath, zeroing in on the action. “oh. why?” you can’t hear him when the need comes crashing back, just as strongly as it did before. you were under the impression this wouldn’t be happening and had no idea he planned on doing it here.

hobie likes you like this. he can never really describe it but you melt so easily. one touch, one graze of his fingertips and you’re all soft. it’s nice you can keep up with his libido but it’s even better when he can keep up with yours. “ ‘cause i don’t want to. why do you think?”

you don’t know what to think right now. not when his thumb grazes over your clit so slowly. it’s always you who’s so worked up while he’s so lax.

you rut against him, lip tucked under your teeth. you don’t know where to put your hands without making it obvious. he’s occupying the space in your lap and you wouldn’t dare clench the front of his shirt.

you settle for behind you, resting on your calves. in hindsight, it has the opposite effect but you’re all dizzy. you pant when he rolls the bud under his pads of his finger. you’re simultaneously regretting and rejoicing in the fact that you decided to wear a thong for the outfit. it’s thin and does nothing to dull the feeling.

a hand reaches into your peripheral. you can see the rolled smoke in between it’s fingers but you can’t be bothered to look over and see who it belongs to.

“thanks,” hobie acknowledges it. he leans into it to take his puff and tilts his head back. the remnants are released in the air rather than your face. the smell mixes with his cologne, musky and woodsy. you wouldn’t like it any other time but now. now, any part of him makes your pussy wet.

“thought you weren’t smoking,” you tilt your hips up and further into his hand.

he lets you, wanting you to become as unnerved as possible. “i wasn’t, then. i am, now.” his attention flicks down to your crotch. hobie wishes the lighting is a little better. he can’t see anything like this. sure, he can see his actions but he can’t see the effect it has on you. he can feel the damp spot when his fingers drift too far down and push into you as far as your underwear will allow.

you squirm, tempted to tug it to the side yourself. you can’t breathe under the pressure of need. how much longer is he going to delay this?

“stop movin’,” he squeezes your hip. “i let you act like act like a bitch in heat for a second but now you’re gettin’ greedy.” he doesn’t usually speak to you like this but when he does, it has you gushing. you keen while your head hangs low.

you clench your hands into fists and screw your eyes shut. “sorry.” you say while giving him your best attempt to sit still.

“and look at me. i’m playing with your cute little pussy. the least you can do is look at me.”

you shake your head in refusal but make eye contact with him, anyway. you’re shy, not because he’s toying with you, but because he’s toying with you in front of his friends, in front of everyone here.

“there you go,” he quietly praises you just under his breath, “there she is.” hobie nudges his way against you, nose poking at your neck. “it’s too bad i can’t suck on it till you’re creaming.”

you jump, your shoulder meeting your ear. it’s unintentional, following the way his breath tickles your skin. “don’t say that,” your voice is all watery.

he pulls the your baby blue panties to the side and sucks his teeth. his eyes are rolling at your words. “don’t say that? i have my fingers deep inside you and you’re telling me not to say that?”

“you don’t – ”

your body falls forward when it happens, when hobie plunges in his fingers without warning. your mouth drops open, knees digging into his side when your legs attempt to close. “ohh,” it leaves your mouth long and drawn out. the sudden stretch of his pointer and middle finger makes your body curl.

“someone just sold me these shrooms.”

you hear the crinkle of a bag somewhere nearby and the sound only gets louder. you can assume it’s being passed around but your blood is pumping in your ears. you breathe heavily, mindlessly sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

“i’d let you hold ‘em, hobes, but . . .”

his body shakes underneath you when he laughs lightly. his fingers don’t stop their incessant movements, stroking your walls. “all good. how much did you pay?”

you writhe when hobie digs into your spot, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit. you can feel a small stream of drool pooling out of your cheek. it’s more so with how chaotic you are, tongue and teeth relishing at his neck.

you feel a heavy arm stilling you against him despite your struggle.

“don’t mind her. she’s just being a baby ‘bout it.” he doesn’t apologize for his explicit acts. he apologizes for your distracting reactions, for your quiet moans. it unnerves you.

here you are, worked up and dripping in front of your boyfriend’s friends. they’re so casual about it and as much as you hate to remember, they’re not wrong to be. hobie gets off on this and by default, you do too.

“is she a baby or are you an absolute ass?”

“you’re gonna irritate me and i’m gonna take it out on her.” his lips is upturned and lazy. “so how much did you pay for it?”

you don’t care to listen to the rest of the conversation. you’re very obviously grinding downward to feel him deeper and it only results in you tightening around him with a gasp. you’re weakly tugging his face until he’s turned around.

he’s not exactly thrilled to be interrupted from his conversation but he takes pity and gives in. your lip connect, tongues immediately tangling with each other. your saliva mixes and he sucks on your tongue to satiate you. on occasion, your teeth bump and crash against each other but it doesn’t discourage you. you only lean into it.

his fingers increase their pace and he ignores the cramp in his wrists. he juts his fingers against the spot that has you digging your nails into him.

this is so surreal. you and your friends always like fun at the people who get off at your college parties. you’ve told hobie the stories in the past but he seemed disinterested. now, you’re those people at those parties and it doesn’t sound as bad.

“you cummin’?” he whispers to you and you alone. he prefers to this part to himself, only you two knowing without speculation.

your lifting your hips to escape the stimulation, mouth running dry from the way it hangs open. “mhm,” you squeal. the ball wound up tight in your core releasing, accompanying spurts of cream.

your chest heaving as you gulp out air. hobie pulls his fingers out with a low squelch only he can hear. a low whistle leaves his lips at the where his fingers glisten. you’re expecting him to press them to your tongue but your eyes widen when they continue to extend outwards. instead, they’re all in riri’s mouth.

they’re both eyeing you and you don’t know what to do. your attention darts between the both of them before focusing on the floor. your hands fiddle with your skirt. your face is burning, your whole body is.

“damn hobes,” she mumbles.

you can still feel their gaze on you, thick and heavy.

his hands are running from your back to your calves and back up again. the saliva is smearing over your skin. “i know. it’s better right from the source.” he slides your panties back in there spot and ignore how disappointed you look.

“ ‘bie,” you want to cry. you don’t want to beg in front of everyone but it’s as if he doesn’t care about you.

“stop your whinin’,” he fixes you with a pointed glare. hobie pushes you off his lap til you’re standing. “we’ll be back.” he doesn’t have to explain himself for everyone to understand what’s happening, not that he would anyway. he gets off the couch and takes your hand in his.

hobie takes you with him, guiding you to the bathroom. both your hands are clasped around his and you’re staring at him, wide eyed, rather than your surroundings.

he can feel you watching him. you’re doe eyed and it makes him harder than he already is. it’s as if he’s the only one that can fix it, and he truly is. hobie nearly tosses you into the bathroom. he slams the door behind him and flicks over the lock.

when he turns around, you’re kneeling and pawing at his jeans. you pout when you undo his zipper.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” hobie hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts it to his. “you don’t have to suck it if you don’t want to.”

“it’s not that,” you pull down his jeans . you wrap your fingers around the base and jerk your hand up and down his shaft. “you embarrassed me really bad.” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “can’t face your friends, now.”

hobie pinches your cheek. he mocks your expression before breaking out in a smile. “didn’t look embarrassed fucking yourself on my fingers. i’m not the one who licked your cum off ‘em.” he squeezes your face together until your lips are puckered.

he slaps his tip against your lips and smears the saliva-precum mix across your cheeks. you’re not moving fast enough, too busy telling him “problems” that he couldn’t care about. you don’t even mean them, just want something to irritate him with.

you shut your lips tightly and cross your arms over your chest. he’s only making you more likely to be difficult. you turn your cheek at him and stare at the rug. “not listening to me.”

hobie sighs and runs his hands over his face. he knows you’re delicate and are quick to throw a fit when you feel you have to. if he doesn’t get you under wraps, he’ll have to put in more effort in the long run. “what is it, baby? because the last time i checked, you’re the one who was about to scream my head off because i didn’t take out my dick right then and there.”

you purse your lips harder. “i wasn’t screaming. you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being dramatic?” he cannot believe you right now. he squats down until you’re levelled with each other. his hand engulfs you by the throat. he doesn’t squeeze, just holds you close. “you’re mad at me because you came. most of it was your work, though. don’t piss me off.”

neither of you say anything for the passing moment. the only movement made is the small nod of your head.

he releases you following a quick peck on your lips. he stands and you’re back to your previous task, swallowing his cock. you hollow your cheeks, hands on his thighs.

hobie grips the sink behind you. he has to siphon his strength to prevent from breaking the counter. he tries, he really does to keep himself from fucking your throat.

he always does start off as gentle, restraining himself. he watches you, watches your spit dribble and froth. his hand strokes the back of your head. he’s all langley, long enough to do so with no problems.

you realize too late when he pushes your head down until you’re choking, eyes watering with your tears. they spill over your eyes when you close them and gasp for air when he lets go.

hobie brushes your tears away while you wheeze. “couldn’t help myself.” he does feel apologetic, although he would definitely do it again. he doesn’t, though. not until you’re ready, sniffling and aligning his cock with your mouth.

you relax as much as you can. after his big push, you down more than the last attempt. you’ve never been able to fit his whole dick in your mouth, considering the length. the rest of it is beneath your hands, being squeezed and rubbed.

he can’t help the way he bucks his hips forward. he does feel guilty when you choke but it’s overwhelmed by the vibrations of your temporary struggle. still, you persist. you suck and slurp despite your need for air. you’re a bit lightheaded and grateful when hobie takes a step back and pulls himself out.

he exhales, thumb pressing on his tip and holding his cock still to discourage himself from cumming. you can’t even fathom how you make him feel. he believes even if you kissed him long enough, he could cum untouched. “you’re so good to me,” he wets his lips, the other hand on the wall. “so good, too good.”

you drink in the praise with a satisfied smile. you wriggle your toes beneath you and decide to take advantage of his lack of attention. your fingers dip between your legs and underneath your underwear.

you lean forward just enough to fingerfuck yourself. it doesn’t feel as good as when he does it, purely because your hands are much smaller than his. “hobie,” you call out to him.

his actions to last longer are almost futile when he meets your big brown eyes. “slut,” he mutters and pulls you to your feet.

you don’t hide your smile when he turns you around by your hips and pushes you down over the counter. he flips your skirt up and yanks your panties down to your ankles.

you don’t give him a chance to tease, pushing your hips back the moment you feel his dick lined up with your slit. you grip the countertop until the tips of your fingers are white and devoid of the red tint.

hobie pushes down on your the small of your back. he trails his thumb over your tramp stamp. he looms over you, your back pressed against his chest. “you’re so pretty, honey. y’know that?” he squeezes your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. he thinks you look a little better like this, with tear stains streaming down your face and leaving the trails in your powder. the eyeliner you spent so long to perfect is a bit smudged and the highlight in the corner of your hair is gone.

you whine and wiggle your hips. he’s not doing enough. he’s not doing anything but talking about you and that’s not what you want. “stop talking, please.” you feel miserable, shoes clicking against the floor when you shuffle your feet.

“don’t start complainin’, you hear me? i don’t wanna hear it.” he kisses the nape of your neck and rises.

you think nothing of it. you’re awfully confident until he’s grasping your hips and snapping into you. you nearly scream, reaching back and pressing against his stomach.

hobie shoves your hand off his body and holds it instead. “what did i just say?” he much rather you squeeze his hand, nails pressing into his skin. he guides it back to the counter and leaves them both there, his other hand fucking you back onto him.

he’s using you. you can hear the the sound of impact between your skin. you can feel it too, toes curling under the straps of your heels. you can’t keep yourself quiet, moaning into the back of your hand.

for once, hobie doesn’t reprimand you about it. you can already barely stand, forehead resting against the coolness of the composite.

your legs wobble and you’re depending completely on him to hold you up. he’s a little limited in his view, unable to see your breasts bouncing underneath you. he’s not able to see your face, either.

you make up for it in the way you moan. he can hear his name slipping in, muffled in your hand. the other, underneath his, curls and coils. there is no escaping him when you’re pressed against a hard surface and he’s pressed against you.

“ ‘obie,” you pant. you bend your knee and straighten it out as a way to express your pleasure. in the end, he holds it in the air. with both your hands free, you use the hold on the counter to push back against him.

“don’t worry. i got you.” he reaches under your lifted leg, rolling your sensitive nerves between his fingers.

your back arches and you throw your head over his shoulder. your arms tremble as the waves of your orgasm comes crashing against you.

you’re dizzy, falling forward because he fucks you through it. your mouth is open and drool pools over the side. you don’t care. your cunt throbs with over sensitivity and tears begin in your eyes again.

hobie uses your back dimples as leverage. your pleas ring around in his brain but it’s all foggy. he’s so close and it’ll plaguing his thoughts. “sorry, angel. i’m so sorry.” his hand falls beside your eyes. his pace quickens and he has to cover your mouth when you get too loud.

he suddenly pulls out, spewing his cum over your ass. hobie has to take a second behind you, not that you mind. you don’t feel like moving yourself even when your tits are all squished and uncomfortable.

a few minutes pass before he takes some tissue to clean you up with soft touches. “you did so good.” he says, tossing the tissue away and getting another to wipe the slick on your thighs. “my perfect girl. you okay?”

“mhm.” you haven’t gotten up, eyes closed. your hit with an onslaught of sleepiness, your guess is from the waning influence of everything you’ve consumed tonight.

hobie pulls your underwear back up and fixes your skirt back into its place. he pulls your partially limp body up and gathers you in his arms. “are you fallin’ asleep?”

“mhm,” you hum again, coddling into his warmth.

he smiles, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you into the air. he doesn’t have to ask to know you would love to be left alone to sleep so he takes it upon himself to carry you to his room to rest.

hobie really can’t wait until you wake up and he tells you all about how he fucked you to sleep.

[sopuu]

sketch dump of some guys

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]

Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.

I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.

Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.

[shima-draws]

Finished season 2…

[chrollogy]

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[myfairkatiecat]

Okay I’m going to say it, some of y’all treat the KOTLC tag like it’s a tumblr community instead of an organization system that gathers together everything people post and tag as KOTLC

[gojooooo]

man i love open endings. the fact that thanks to yuuji there might indeed be the next time sukuna talks about in case some idiot decides to eat a finger again. and we need fics where yuuji is that idiot