#angry tall gay man

[pebbleloo]

Deliquent kel!! >:D

[wannabeanotter]

FUCK STICK (BOTTOM TO TOP; FUCKBOY/JOCK TF)

Fucking tops. It's Friday, nearly midnight and instead of dancing I'm stuck in the washroom at a gay club, hiding from some shithead.

"Tops, right?"

Next to me is a tall guy in a flannel shirt. He's pretty hot, but, urgh, he's the last thing I want to be thinking of right now.

"Yeah," I try to sound chatty, but it's clear I'm pretty annoyed "How did you know?"

He turns to me and crosses his arms, grinning, "Oh, you know. What happened? I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you"

It's true. I mean, look at this ass

"Urgh. This guy grabbed me from behind and started grinding against me. Can you believe it?? He didn't even ask, all I did was wink at him."

"Hmphh, you winked at him? Sounds like he was giving you what you wanted. You know, all you bottoms are the same. Needy. Demanding. Seeing real men as just dumb grunting animals. Maybe that guy was trying to do you a favour?"

I groan and turn around to leave "Oh, fuck you." Just what I need, another smug shithead.

He heckles me from behind. "God, twinks like you are so fucking lame. Maybe we're fed up of being nagged all the time?". He sounds kinda angry, but I ignore him, and roll my eyes.

"You know what, grab your dick."

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with shock. Why am I so shaken? That's not the worst thing I've heard at a club. I try to move but I can't, I just sputter, "Wh- what?? I'm not doing that"

He grins, "I'm not asking"

I feel something pull against my pants, but I look down and see it's my own arm

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you... you're doing this?" My arm creeps down, playfully running my fingers over my tight stomach, and slips down through my waist band.

"Haha, yeah I am bro. So, bottom bottom bottom. What to do with you. What if I open your eyes a little?"

I, I start to shake. Something in me feels good. Beefy guys start to flash through my mind, and whatever's taken over my hand knows what it's doing down there. Athletes, wrestlers, big bulges in tight clothes...

"Here's the thing. There's enough brats like you around here bro. Someone's gotta do something. Think of it like, uh, giving back to the community."

The images in my mind start to change. The models get smaller, swapping out athletes for tight twinks in tighter shorts. Instead of biceps, I'm thinking of big, curvy asses, and my hand... I can't control myself. I wanna grab someone, anyone, and start grinding.

But then, one of my crushes slides by - Jason, a HUGE wrestler on my college team. Biggest pecs I have seen in my life. Thank fuck, finally, a real man. He looks at me with his big, brown eyes and oh my god, my heart flutters. I look up at him and in my mind I start to walk towards him

The guy in the flannels shirt is egging me on, "Go on, do it." How does he know what I'm thinking? Whatever.

I reach out, and Jason smiles. That big, goofy, handsome grin... and then he turns around. He gets down on the mats, on his hands and knees, raising his big, firm ass into the air. I'm looking right at it.

I squirm. "Oh god. No. No no no no no"

"Uh, actually, yes." The guy in the washroom grins. "I want you to be a dumb, grunting animal, you will do that for me. Are you starting to understand?"

I lean down over the sink, but in my fantasy I fall against Jason. I hold him tight, pinning his big sweaty form down against the mats. At first, there's barely anything I can do to control him - he's WAY bigger than me, but soon I start to feel... bolder. Firmer. He tries to roll me over, but I slip my arm around his shoulder and a vein pops up over my bicep. My legs strain and my glutes start to stretch. Fuck, my whole body is throbbing.

I grunt, and slam him downwards, which gives moment to catch my breathe. Does he feel less sweaty? I wipe my forehead. Wait, am I more sweaty?

"Yeah bro. I know what you're thinking, I know how much you love guys after they've worked out. Damp clothes, that manly smell... it's exactly what every bottom wants these days. Now it's yours"

We twist around each other, and I reach my arms across his body. Wait, all the way around? His shoulders have gotten smaller, thinner... twinkier. And, well, mine are the opposite. He lunges, but I grapple him. All the mass has gone from his legs, meanwhile, my biceps are big enough to crack a skull.

"I want to make you a real fuckboy, you know? Someone who just thinks with his dick. Gym, sex, gym, sex, gym, sex... I want you to always be turned on, I want it to control you, I want you to never get a break."

I've got him, firm between my legs. Jason's tiny now, the same size I was 2 minutes ago, and I start to grind my bulge against his soft, bubbly ass. Fuck. Fuck! It's so good. This is the best fantasy I've ever had in my life. I want to fuck him so bad.

My whole body is throbbing, shaking. Blood is pulsing through my, through my everything. Fuuuuuck. I feel almost dizzy. Everything about this almost feels real. I go to lift up my shirt, but it's gone, and I run my other hand over my stomach. It's like I can really feel the abs

I cum. Oh my god, did I just cum in a... a washroom at a night club? And, I was thinking about topping a guy??

"Ahem". I turn to stare at the guy next to me. He looks pleased with himself. Very pleased.

"There bro! How do you look?"

I look in the mirror, and it hits me like a fucking brick. My body... my clothes. Oh my god, everything's gone. THAT WAS REAL? I look like some stupid fuckboy. Am I a stupid fuckboy? Is that a JOCKSTRAP? My jeans are gone, now just a pair of shorts. Very short shorts. Is that it? Is that all I'm wearing? Over the top of my huge pecs I see my converses are gone too, swapped out for some worn down gym shoes.

This can't be real. If it is, my boyfriend is 100% going to break up with me. How do I even explain this? That I'm like, ripped now? No, wait... that's not it. I try to imagine him topping me but, but, fuck, it feels so gross. A total turnoff

"Of course you don't want to let him top you. You're not a bottom anymore... that's kind of the whole point."

But he would never let me top him. But maybe we don't need to have sex for a while. That wouldn't be so bad, would it...

"AHAHAHA, sorry, with your new sex drive? What part of a fucking animal don't you understand"

There's no way he would want to stay with a horny fuckboy, but, but...

what if I am a stupid fuckboy? I'm already thinking of a nice, tight twink. I'm not that interested in him anyway - he's too tall, too beefy. All the guys I saw earlier are racing through my head. The skinny guy I danced with with the great ass, that cute short one by the bar... urgh, he had those perfect legs, that cute crop top, tight stomach... I bite my lower lip and reach down...

"NO!!"

I start hyperventilating. "This isn't me. I'm not a jock, I am ABSOLUTELY not a top. And," I lift up my arm, "there's no way I actually smell like this"

He laughs, like he's having the fucking time of his life. Maybe he is. "HAHA, sorry dude, yeah you do. And, yeah, you are. Think of that fuck stick like a gift, not just to you, but also to every cute boy you see on grindr. You'll get used to it, trust me"

His words flood my head... I imagine scrolling through the app in bed later, looking at the sea of boys all desperate for me... I reach down again...

"NO! Fuck! Make it stop. Why are you doing this to me?!!"

He pauses for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. His expression... he's looking at me like he thinks I'm stupid. Does he think I'm stupid? No way - this motherfucker!

"Really? I know I fried a few wires up there dude, but you cannot seriously be asking that. Why do you think I'm doing it?"

"I - I..." I can't find any words. I really don't know. I just don't fucking get it. He's ruining my body, my LIFE, and for what? Fun? Revenge?

But he laughs, and looks at me. I'd think he was being pitiful if he wasn't grinning so fucking hard.

"Bro," he says, "I'm doing this because I think it's hot."

My heart sinks. "You're doing this because, because it fucking turns you on? Don't you give a shit about me at ALL?? I'm going to lose my boyfriend, I'm trapped in this horny, sweaty, disgusting body..."

"Just stop complaining. You know, so what if you don't get in a say in this! Sometimes you just gotta take what life gives you, and right now that's a huge fucking cock"

I feel like I'm about to burst out crying. He grabs my new, boyish face, and pulls it up towards his. "So, yah! Glad I could clear that up," he laughs, "Look, ok, this isn't gonna work if you're gonna be such a fucking loser about it. It's also not gonna work out if you don't work out - you gotta be going to the gym from now on. Those biceps, those pecs... you're chiseled like a statue and I'm not gonna let those new muscles go to waste. You need to be in there DAILY."

He gives my cheeks a squeeze, then lets me go. I clutch my face. It feels different, unfamiliar. Am I crying?

"URGH, bro, will you just quit looking at me like that. Puppy dog eyes, I shouldn't have made you so fucking handsome... Look, I'm gonna give you one last chance, ok: cheer up, right fucking now, or else I'm gonna have to do some rewiring. Right now, all your decisions are being made up there", he flicks my forehead, and then he smirks and grabs my crotch. "But, if I flick the switch, this guy gets to do all the thinking. You'll be so dumb, so horny, HAH, you'll be drooling over your own dick. A real fucking animal. Got it?"

If I don't get a grip, it's over for me. But what do I do? I gulp, and try to swallow my tears. I wash my face a little in the sink. He stares down at me, and the two of us stand in silence. It feels like forever, but it must have been just a minute.

I look up at him, and let out a squeak. "Yeah. You're right. I got it"

"No." he says "I don't think you do."

Damnnnnn, look at these pecs. Fuck, what was I doing? Whatever, I gotta get back out there. See if that blonde guy by the bar is taken. Just thinking of him and his ass makes me wanna... I grab my crotch, and let out a moan.

Wait, is that cum? Yoo how did I not realise. I clean myself up and slide my waistband back over my jockstrap, letting it snap into place against my cum gutters. I flex, and light shines off my glistening, sweaty muscles - if someone were to see me now, they'd think I was a greek statue. These strong, firm thighs, the perfect curve of my glutes... these shoulders look like they were made by fucking Michelangelo.

Nah, I'm way better than that. A statue doesn't have a dick. See you at the club, bro

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ MY TYPE: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Even after years Crocodile could never figure out what was his type of woman. At least with you he could figure out he wasn't even interested in women in general"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE! reader, MASC! reader (can be trans or not), HOMO RELATIONSHIP, CROCODILE IS GAY HERE, Mihawk is also gay, LIGHT HOMOPHOBIA, LIGHT SEXISM, Crocodile is a old man with old morals (not defending him), Gay club, a little joke with crocodile name, light description about reader clothes but still free for you imagine your own way

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : After years I'm posting again, I'm not in my better mood and things have being hard for me, so I'm kinda didn't any of my hobbies, like writing and posting, sorry for that. Hope you guys enjoy it, fem blogs/blank blogs/no pronouns = block

Now imagine Crocodile who refuses to have a lasting relationship regardless of the woman who throws himself at his feet. He takes them to some events, some photos of the most beautiful and chic women in his arms, maybe even some flirting without commitment, but a second date or even something more serious? No way.

He can't explain why he can never stay interested in a woman for more than a few hours. What if he tries? Well the things he would say to try to justify why no woman is good enough would be something like:

The lipstick was too strong, the lipstick was too weak, the dress was too exaggerated, the dress was not flashy enough, the smile was too simple, the smile was too fake. Too tall, too short, too thin, not thin enough, didn't wear high heels, wore high heels, uncultured, knew too many things, too independent, too dependent, etc.

“More it seems like you don't like women” Doflamingo laughed in his face as he drank again, the man in the burgundy suit was already tired of hearing his friend's endless excuses about why he didn't have anyone. “Who likes women likes all types of women, simple as that” what he said was true, reinforcing his point by opening his arms, making the two women who were sitting next to him throw themselves onto his chest.

Crocodile couldn't deny that he also believed that statement, he thought men who wanted to demand crazy things from women were stupid, but he wasn't like that... he just hadn't found the right woman. Of course Doflamingo was very different, in his arms were now two completely different women, style, body, color and height, but he knew very well that the demon would give the two equal love and attention. Although it wouldn't make much difference since he would forget about them both the next day.

“Not all men want easy bitches, that doesn't mean I don't like women” he spat with venom, seeing one of the women become embarrassed and the other look at him with hatred. Of course he just ignored it and continued drinking his wine, becoming even more stressed about the situation.

“Don't be mad now fufufu” Doflamingo laughed seeing how angry the other was.

“What’s wrong with you not liking women?” Mihawk asked with a raised eyebrow and for a moment the other two men forgot he was there due to the silence. Crocodile bit his cheek remembering that his friend was gay and would probably be offended by the conversation.

“None, but I like women, I'm just demanding” Crocodile explained the situation and Mihawk seemed to accept the excuse but he still hadn't given up on the subject.

“If you don't find any woman that pleases you, perhaps you can find a man that satisfies you” was all Dracule said.

God. Crocodile wanted to kill Mihawk, after that damn sentence all he could think about was that. What if he actually liked men? Of course not... he's always been with women his whole life, so he liked them, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to men.

He tried to convince himself of this as much as he could, but god it felt like someone had opened Pandora's box. For the next few days he couldn't stop noticing the men in the office, the way they moved, the way their bodies acted, the way they also had their own beauty. Hell! He was sure Daz had caught him looking at a male employee's ass more than once! He couldn't have his reputation ruined like that!

So he forced Mihawk to meet with him again, he had some questions, he just needed some proof that he was completely straight. Once he had reaffirmed his sexuality he would be fine and could stop acting like an old pervert.

“Being with women all your life doesn't mean being straight, we're old, we grew up in a time where that was the only way, the correct way” Mihawk said without much emotion sitting at the bar with his friend while they enjoyed a whiskey “Maybe now you’ve finally gotten tired of pretending and your body is just showing signs that you were never attracted to women.”

“And how do I find out if I like men?” Crocodile asked, almost ashamed of what he was saying, he would definitely kill someone if this was exposed.

“Go out with one.”

And that's where you get into the story. Crocodile locked himself in his office for weeks without knowing what to think or do, how the hell was he supposed to go out with a man if he never even considered it before?! That was until he received an invitation to a nightclub, Circus Royale Club, he thought it was a prank until he received a message from Mihawk explaining what it was.

“The clown has a gay nightclub, completely discreet, if something gets out he already knows that you won't forgive him. He talked to a few people and said there’s someone you might like to meet, I figured you wouldn’t make the first move alone, give it a chance.”

He almost jumped from the top floor of his building but his friend was right, he was too nervous to make a move alone, he didn't even know where to look for it. Regular nightclubs and dating sites were out of the question, but perhaps Buggy's nightclub was an option. He would actually kill the idiot if anything like that got out in the media, so he was confident that his privacy was protected… Now he just didn't trust the clown's taste in finding Crocodile a romantic partner, but it's not like he had any other option.

He tried to dress like he normally would, a simpler suit, nothing vibrant or exaggerated. For a moment he thought it wouldn't suit the location and he was right and wrong.

The nightclub inside was truly another world, it was extremely chic and in shades of red and dark blue, giving a very sensual depth to everything. The problem was the people, the employees all wore white shirts with blue or red vests, too circus-like for Crocodile, in addition to the masks that only covered their eyes to separate them from the customers. And the customers? Heavens… It really looked like a circus, he saw people wearing wigs bigger than their own heads, colorful and extravagant clothes, fantastic makeup, was there someone wearing wings and horns?!

He felt a little… overwhelmed, to say the least. He thought gay people were like Mihawk, extremely discreet, or just a little more cheerful and feminine, not like that... Okay that was a terribly homophobic thought, he needed a drink.

He picked up something strong and sat down on a table, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor but being inaudible due to the music playing. He quickly sent a message to Mihawk asking what the hell that place was and wondering if it was gays or some real circus.

“Don't worry about them, the people at the clown's nightclub are more exotic, not everyone is like that” thank God because Crocodile didn't see himself dating a walking rainbow “I only chose this place because discretion was guaranteed, your partner wouldn't It’s like the ones you see”

He thanked him mentally, not that he judged people for dressing how they wanted, sometimes he did, but being a pink Barbie just didn't suit him! If he was going to have someone, he wanted someone who suited his discreet and formal style more, man or woman, that wasn't a discussion.

He was about to “thank” Mihawk for the terrible place when he saw you walking in. You were stunning. You wore nice dark pants and a lighter shirt with a nice print that suited you perfectly. The outfit wasn't discreet gothic level like Mihawk or vomiting rainbows like the others there, it was just... you. It was an outfit that made you look amazing and you knew it, he could see your confidence, you were beautiful and you knew it. And heavens, Crocodile had to admit that it was the most attractive thing he had ever seen.

You looked around and stopped when you saw Crocodile, your eyebrows arching in surprise as if you didn't believe that Crocodile existed and was really there. You smiled and instead of going to the table where Crocodile was, you went towards the bar, where you stayed for a few minutes, talked to the bartender, got your own drink.

Crocodile had never felt so nervous before, he was used to having all the attention just on him, women threw themselves at his feet for a chance. And here you were, knowing he was the one you were supposed to meet but you were purposely ignoring him. His heart was beating fast and he felt the sweat beneath his thin suit. He had an absurd urge to get up and force you to pay attention to him, to show you that he was the only one who deserves your attention, when he had become so desperate and needy for someone's attention? Even more of a man?

After all that you finally took your glass of drink and went to the table and sat in front of him, you crossed your legs and sipped your drink before leaving it on the table, then you faced him, in complete silence. Hell this was totally different from what he was used to, here you seemed to be staring at him as if to say “prove to me that you are worthy of my attention”. This wasn't what he was used to, he was no longer a hunter, he was prey.

“I thought you didn’t realize I was your date” he said softly, composing himself while drinking his drink.

“Of course I noticed, it's not very difficult to know who I should meet here, just look around and see how you differ from everyone…” you laughed “You're like a fish out of water… in fact you are more to a crocodile in the middle of all the fish” you looked at him sensually biting your lip.

“Hah… And you look like an animal photographer, completely camouflaged in the environment… but if you look closely you know that you are someone superior to any animal” he said with a determined smile and the victory was his by the way you blushed and squirmed in your place.

“Crocodile, right?” You had now abandoned your malicious and even evil manner, now you seemed completely open and genuine to trying to have a date with him “(y/n), it’s a pleasure”

“The pleasure is definitely all mine” he said genuinely. Maybe dating men wouldn't be so bad, maybe being a gay man wouldn't be so bad… Maybe having you as his partner in a serious longterm relationship with you… yeah, it didn't seem so bad.

[accio-sriracha]

No because what even are the Marauders? Like the dynamics are just so absolutely wild with these four characters.

Okay so we have Remus: Literally a werewolf, stone cold sarcasm, could kill a man with one look, sharp mind and sharper tounge, like 6'4 and could 100% tower over you, in general just does not give a shit.

But we also have Remus: Soft Boi, tall and lanky, incredibly socially awkward, just wants naps and chocolate all the time, blushes furiously, way too stressed out about absolutely everything, can't go twenty minutes without complaining that he's cold.

We have Sirius: Punk Rock Badass tm, drives an illegal flying motorcycle, has the coolest animagus form to date, scary dog best friend privileges, the most Noble and Ancient House of Black reject, could kill you without hesitation if you look at his friends wrong, could tower over you even though he's shorter??, his voice is somehow even more threatening when it's quiet.

But then we have Sirius: Perpetual gay panic, will willingly fling himself off a bridge if any of the marauders told him to, terrified of Lily Evans (who's the shortest of all of them), sings along to Dancing Queen every time it plays, needs affection or he'll die, will break down crying because he cant get his eyeliner right, absolute hot mess.

We have James: Over protective, strong enough to manhandle someone easily, also incredibly tall, doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, popular jock, secret charms genius and could come up with a spell to haunt you forever, known for being a Prank God, is best friends with the House of Black reject and a literal werewolf, the untouchable quidditch captain, could probably down eight firewhiskeys and still shoot a quaffle perfectly through a hoop, his angry glare could melt fucking steel.

Then we have James: chased after the same person for seven years, crooked glasses and always messy hair, big doe eyes, literally and figuratively deer in headlights, won't stop whining about everything, takes an hour long shower because he needs to find the right playlist, refuses to eat sandwiches with the crusts on, wears mismatched socks, such a mama's boy, wears croptops for fun, likes being choked.

Well... and then there's just Peter: Not a mean bone in this kid's body, he will bring the snacks to the study group and there is nothing you can do about it, likes cheese, always down for a road trip, desperately needs validation, pins photos of all his best friends to his wall, likes cheese, can make you cry just by pouting at you, literally just a big tedy bear, needs at least three hugs a day, LIKES CHEESE.

[ellaa-writes]

Roommates part 2

And now back to the regularly scheduled program, takes place right after the first part. Got really into the smut scene which is honestly the whole thing. Had to end it short as I'm trying to focus on this lecture and not work myself up.

Cw: 18+, porn also very short (not proof read!)

You never thought this would be happening right now. Your tall dark and handsome roommate, naked from the waist down, dick swinging in the air as he stands before you.

"Just a touch, I promise it's not scary." what the hell is happening. Tonight was suppose to be care free and fun, at least that's what Kate said before her boyfriend called and they got into a fight. Leaving you to walk home the short distance, a block and half, from where she stopped her car to yell at him. You didn't understand why they were still together, the defitnion of toxic.

When you came home you found your roommate jerking off with your favourite panties, right in the living room. Sure you've dreamt of similar scenarios but you didn't think your roommate König would be trying to convince you to touch his dick.

Maybe you should, what's the harm in it. Your not dating anyone, violently single. König was the hottest guy you knew, violently hot. Every girl and guy on campus swooning at the hulking giant. Having to tell every girl that asked you to rely a message to him that they could do it themselves. And you didn't doubt they did, since living with him and becoming friends you have not once seen him go on a datle, let alone bring someone home. You began to assume he was gay.... but you were proven wrong.

"Get on the bed." you commanded him, watching as an eyebrow raised but he sat himself on the edge of your queen bed. You sunk to your knees in front of him, tugging down his jeans and boxers to the floor, pooling around his feet. It was long, and thick, maybe a little too much, a voice in your head spoke up. It sure was intimidating, you thought only porn stars and the alien men in the books you read have big dicks, you were once again proven wrong.

Konig eyes widening, staring down at you kneeling between is thighs. You took him into your hand, so thick that your fingers couldn't fully wrap around. But that didn't disencourage you, starting out with small licks to his angry red head. Light kisses starting at the base to the slit that's now leaking furiously.

König whinning above you, trying to rock his hips into your lips but you just pulled away. "Stop moving or I'll leave you like this." you warned him, not sure where this dominate side of you coming from. "Bitte, bitte." whined, stilling his hips.

You started off with just the head, your jaw opening as wide as it could to take him into your mouth. "Fuck!" König yelled from above, laying his upper body down across the bed. You sucked on the tip for a bit, trying to get your jaw use to the shear size of this man. Slowly sinking further down his cock, stopped when you could feel yourself start to gag a bit.

"Scheiße! Oh mein gott." König couldn't take much more of your soft warm mouth. Shooting up from his laid out position, pulling you off his cock. He manhandled you onto the center of the bed, using his big arm to spread your thighs till they were touching on either side of you, causing you wince a little. "Sorry." he said but not to you but to your pussy.

"Look, she's crying for me" he whispered, his deft finger poking the wet spot that soaked through your panties. "I've dreamt about this day, many nights." he still was talking to your aching pussy. Now it was your turn to thrust your hips at him. König wanted to prepping you a little, but seeing you so needy and eager "Tell me if it's too much." he breathed out heavily, climbing up your body and slotting his hips between your thighs. He kicked his pants and boxer off in the move, your dress was at your hips. König tugged down the front of it just a bit, to reveal your tits.

Yanking the fabric separating your pussy to him, to the side. Running is fingers meticulously up and down your glisenting slick. Coating his digits as he spread out your wetness, then dragging it over his already wet cock. You say up on your elbows as König lined up his tip to your entrance, slowly pushing forward with his hips. The feeling of your lips parting for the massive girth, stretching around him.

A shudder racked with his body at the first sensation of your heat. The silky walls sucking him in, hooking him into the trance. König took his time, not wanting to rush this moment and to also hurt you. He wasn't sure of your past sexual experiences, he's heard a few hushed conversations with your friends. But since meeting you, you've never brought anyone around. But you could have been to embarrassed to, wouldn't put it past you to sneak around behind his back. But he was certain he is the biggest you ever saw and now had inside you. He could tell by the way your mouth hung open when it first spotted his cock.

Your hands gripped fistfuls of your sheets, watching has his cock disappeared into you. König pulled out a bit, just to plunge back in. Watching as you arched off the bed a little, rocking forward gently. Working your way down his soaked cock, meeting his lazy thrusts.

Gripping your thighs he pulled you closer to him, causing his dick to almost fully sheathed itself into you. You cried out at the sudden movement, König leaned forward and whispered a shush into your ear. Licking a path down to your neck where he began to suck. He was panting hard, his ragged breaths fanning out onto your skin.

He was thrusting more powerfully now, in and out. The sound of your pussy juices squelching echoed around your small room. His hands found yours, handing them tightly. Your legs wrapped around König hips and interlocked across his ass. His pubic bone brushing against you clit ever so slightly, sending you further over the edge until it your were blinded by your orgasm. Spazzing around his cock, König gritted his teeth. The feeling of your pussy squeezing around him was too much, he came too fast to pull out. Filling your tight pussy with his thick load, before he pushed himself off of you.

He watched has some of it dribbled out and onto your sheets. Looking at you pleadingly, it was an accident he swears but deep down its what he truly wanted. You were too fucked out to care or even notice.

Buzzz buzzzzz

The door buzzer startling both of you.

[theodorecanaryhood]

Stages in life

Arkham Knight / Red Hood / Jason Todd x Male reader

Relationships are filled with differences for each people in them, yours and Jason’s was quite different in many ways.

You were Black Bird while Jason was Robin, you were friends and then all of a sudden, he was gone.

Then Arkham Knight came and took you away to teach Bruce a lesson, once you realised Jason was the Arkham Knight. The love you both felt and never admitted came flooding back.

The Arkham Knight had you in his room as you touched his face, Jason looked confused as you lifted the visor up.

‘Jason’ you whispered as you tiptoed and greeted Jason’s lips.

You couldn’t turn your back on Bruce, but you also couldn’t turn your back on Jason. So you decided to step away from both as they figured out what they wanted.

Of course, the grand finale did not go as to plan for either Jason nor Bruce. Jason took his time and realised he wanted to do the right thing for a change.

Jason became Red Hood and was a threat to everyone, he had no problem taking enemies out. Black Mask being no exception of course.

Violent, angry, menacing and dangerous, Red Hood kept the streets safe and was a thunder of force that no one dared to cross.

Only you however, only you had the power to turn Jason into a puppy who was clinging to you all the time.

Jason looked off into the distance as he mentally aimed up the ball with the hole, the golf club swung nicely as the ball flew to the hole in the ground.

You both found this stage particularly interesting as you were both oblivious, Jason stood tall in his white muscle tee.

Two women stood to the side as they took in your form, both debating on which one saw you first and who can shoot their shot. Jason chuckled as he saw this, and you didn’t.

Jason walked over and gave your ass a nice slap, putting arm around you as the two women looked in realisation.

The golf date finished as Jason drove you both home quickly, in order for you both to change into something a little more comfortable.

Jason took you to a romantic dinner, music, wine and a three course meal.

Jason looked so irresistible in his black shirt and trousers, you felt thankful everyday that you woke up next to Jason, a man of this quality.

The two of you held hands over the table as you talked and laughed, the waitress came over with a smile as she looked at you both admiring each other.

This stage was perfect for Jason, he could sit and stare at you all he wanted, watching as your face lit up when you’d speak of things you loved. Jason admired you, loved you.

Jason stood at the bar as he ordered drinks for the two of you, one last drink before you both headed home.

A quick Cosmo before hitting the road as Jason began a conversation with a random bunch of women at the bar. Guess they liked the fact a gay guy was noticing their outfits. You joined for a while before the two of you left.

The next day was filled with relaxing and the two of you enjoying some time together, you both decided the gym was a better addition than staying in all day.

Of course, Jason asked for a different kind of cardio session as he offered to take you to bed and use you. You promised that tonight, but right now wanted a pump session.

Jason isn’t one for showing off, but you love his physique as much as you love him as a person, Jason’s ripped body was on show as he sent you a spicy pic from the other side of the gym.

A nearby woman stared at Jason as he snapped the shot, Jason threw his tank top back on as you appeared.

Jason sat in the bench press as you straddled his lap, assisting him with his lifts. You leant down to give Jason a kiss as he lifted you up.

Jason gave you a piggy back as he did squats with you on his back, your smaller frame helped Jason build some growth to his back and butt as he lifted you each time.

This stage was great for Jason, as he had someone to just simply accompany him. He had his earphones on, as did you, so there wasn’t much of a conversation, but just being in your presence was enough.

Jason had many stages in his life, from Robin to Arkham Knight, to Red Hood. But his favourite stage, was you being his boyfriend. The moments with you were Jason’s favourite.

[elliesmainhoe]

Abby Anderson Headcanons: Werewolf!Abby

This woman is feral.

Lives completely self-sustained in the middle of the woods.

You met werewolf!abby on a hike, trying to get away from the city and connect with nature.

What you weren't expecting was to get lost. At night. On a unknown hiking trail.

Shit.

But not to worry- our favorite muscly blonde to the rescue.

She finds you laying down In the dirt at 2am wearing only a thin rain coat, some cargo pants and walking boots.

It was cold when you fell asleep. So why the fuck was it warm when you woke up?

Your eyes flickered open, not to the sight of blue sky like you were expecting but to a wooden paneled ceilings. You quickly shot up, sitting upright in suprise on the squishy red sofa you'd been laid on and a knitted cable knit blanket thrown over your sleeping figure.

The sound of heavy footsteps approached the enclosed living room, your hands searching your pants for the concealed pocket knife you'd stashed in case of emergencies.

Creak.

The door opened. You thought your abductor was going to be a muscular, hairy, angry looking man with a deep voice and harsh words.

But it's seemed fate was kind to you- I stead there was a 6 foot tall blonde hunk, muscles shaped by the gods- and a woman. Shit.

"Mornin' sleepy head- made you pancakes!"

Like I said TALL ABBY. MOUNTAIN ABBY. 6FT ABBY.

Wolf? Nah she's a shitzu.

She's the most hyper, happy enthusiastic person ever.

Her metaphorical and literal tail is wagging at the speed of light behind her.

Buying her dog toys as a joke. Her being annoyed and rolling her eyes with a sappy smile.

You later find her in her wolf form with the squeaky rubber bone you'd bought her lmao

Speaking in a baby voice to her when she's in her wolf form.

You knew Abby was wondering around the cabin before you could actually see her. The pitter patter of her paws against the floorboards alerting you that she was out on the prowl.

"Abbs?" You call out from the living room, and before you knew it a ball of grey fur bolted next to you onto the couch.

"Hiya baby~" you coo- pecking her snout affectionately, hand moving through her fur and scratching behind her ears. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth happily- panting with a stupid Wolfy smile.

Chases her tail. Idc. when she's in her wolf form- she's a puppy.

Very territorial.

Does not like when people hike on the trail she found you on.

Everyone is a threat to you.

Your hers and she's yours <33

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

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @prettypeoniesx @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman Showdown Semifinals

Hornet (Hollow Knight) vs Brienne of Tarth (A Song Of Ice and Fire)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Hornet

Technically its not a sword but she wields a needle in a setting where swords do not exist and she wields it in an exceedingly swordlike fashion so. She counts; Girlboss demigoddess spider lady. She's been protecting an entire kingdom for longer than many of the other characters have been alive. She systematically kills her siblings for being too weak. She's simply the best.

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

#i remember getting stuck on the first hornet fight on mt first play through and bring likr#''omg the boss fights in this are so hard!!!''#like what. you're not even half way through what are you talking about#you can't even DASH honey. you don't know what's diffcult or not in this game.

So, SPOILERS

but I feel like the "she systematically kills her siblings" part needs a little clarification. See, one of her siblings was used as a living prison for an angry god and that uh. Didn't work out for the sibling in question or anyone else.

This account is itself heavily abbreviated but it's likely that any other sibling Hornet encounters will be trying to take over as the god's new prison. She appears to challenge any sibling she sees to battle, in order to test their resolve against herself and her needle - would they actually have a chance against that god?

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

As is the case for any cool swordswoman, it's not just her sword that's lethal, it's her with it. And Hornet's needle was custom made for her - the creators have said that, while other needles exist, hers was made specifically for her to wield, and its construction allows her to use her spider silk better in combat.

And another thing that I think makes her a good swordswoman: she's actually pretty thoughtful about how she uses it. There's a least one instance where she tries to warn someone off before fighting them! At the same time, when she does fight, she seems to enjoy it - during her boss battles, you can hear her laugh sometimes, as if exhiliarated. She's really got it all, as a swordswoman!!!

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

Brienne

Brienne

gets gifted a sword made with the rarest metal ever because she’s THAT good; she’s simply the best

Brienne is one of the top sword users alive in her day. She's descended from a man who's catchphrase was "I'm better with a sword." Better than what? You. Jaime Lannister. Loras Tyrell. Any five given guys at once. She has a fantastic sword that might be magic or cursed and is named Oathkeeper because that's what she does; I love her

Beat like 20 guys in a tournament when she was 19. Was given a magic sword. Won a sword fight against the premier swordsman in the realm. Very swordly; Very tall and strong. Holds her sword in high esteem. Accomplished with other weapons as well!

She's defeated multiple of the top knights in the series in duels. One such knight gifts her the fabergé egg of swords and she uses it to defend orphans and stuff. Got out of a bad betrothal by dueling him and beating his ass so bad she broke multiple bones. Honestly there's so much more she is the swordswoman of all time. to me; She's buff and ugly and 6' 5" and so honorable and kind that she inspires the guy who fucks his sister to yknow. stop doing that. literally gets mauled for the sake of protecting a bunch of orphans (with her sword). also she's 20 she should be at the club ‼️

One of the best sword wielders in Westeros, the author says he would pick her to defend him. Has a cool sword called Oathkeeper. Manages to go up against 7 fighters and take out most of them,. The only true knight; First off, talking about book brienne, they massacred show brienne, the show runners simply didn’t understand what she’s about.“ She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice” brienne had plenty of choice but she couldn’t leave people to die. The chivalric paradigm is rotten and corrupted, but here is Brienne, the one true knight, who isn’t even a actual knight! “knights are for killing”, but here is a knight who risks her life again and again to protect innocents! Bri IS hope, she is the light in the dark that shows that things can be better, things must be better. Fundamentally an idealist: “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining”

#BRIENNE WON A MELEE WHEN SHE WAS 19 !!!!!#DONT LET HER LOSE

#MORE LOVE FOR BRIENNE#SHE FOUGHT A DAMN BEAR WITH A WOODEN SWORD#SHE AVENGED A MAN UNJUSTLY MAIMED#SHE PROTECTED CHILDREN AGAINST SEVEN MEN#NO CHANCE AND NO CHOICE

I'm going to put some propaganda for Brienne, because she deserves the world.

Some people have been quoting the "no chance, no choice" in the tags, but for those that don't know it comes from this scene:

...she could hear the faint clink of swords and mail from beneath their ragged cloaks. She counted them as they came. Two, four, six, seven. (...) Brienne sucked in her breath and drew Oathkeeper. Too many, she thought, with a start of fear, they are too many.(...) Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. The children, she thought. The door to the inn banged open. Willow stepped out into the rain, a crossbow in her hands. The girl was shouting at the riders, but a clap of thunder rolled across the yard, drowning out her words. As it faded, Brienne heard the man in the Hound’s helm say, “Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them.” The fury in the man’s voice drove Willow back a step, trembling. Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice. She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. “Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me.”

This is basically one of the most badass and awesome moments of the series... because here, Brienne is not guarding a King, vanquishing a great Evil Lord, or fighting a big glorious battle... this is an inn full of orphans being attacked by raiders, children whose lives really don't matter in the great scheme of things. If they were all to be killed, nobody powerful would really care, no history book would write their names.

The logical thing is to run away from there as fast as she could. And yet, Brienne decides to enter an unwinnable nightmarish battle (one where she gets her arm broken and her face eaten) because is the right thing to do. She is a true knight.

Because, in the dark pseudo-medieval world of Westeros, where the patriarchal martial system reigns supreme, there is no space for someone like Brienne, she herself said it best:

"You have a noble father who must surely love you. (...) I know he would tell you that he would sooner have a living daughter than a shattered shield." "A daughter." Brienne's eyes filled with tears. "He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. (...) I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or daughter."

And yet, despite being on the fringe of this society that doesn't accept nonconforming gender expression, despite not being able to be named knight, Brienne is still the embodiment of the ideal of knighthood. She is a true hero, who over and over decides to defend the innocents and do the right thing.

So yeah, my conclusion here is... I think she and kiku should kiss <3

[the-roo-too]

can i request for hanni alphabet? thanks ❤️ - 🌸

candy -> pham hanni ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- when hanni writes things, she often gets too critical of herself. thus, she admires how you sometimes gently coax the pen out of her hands just to hug her and remind her that not every lyric she produces has to be perfect <33

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- your back (💀) as in if you’re taller than her you are cmon no one is shorter than hanni then she loves to get piggyback rides from you!!

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- so you know how she’s shorter than you? well hanni is the big spoon, because someone needs to be the man in this relationship

dates (what’s her ideal date)- hanni loves stay-in dates, where you both just listen to one direction 😙 alternatively you can buy/bake with her bread

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- very loud, very expressive, the type to hit you when she’s laughing

family (does she want one)- maybe? hanni has better things to worry about let’s be honest

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- yes!! duh, she’s a angry little sh when you refuse to hold her hand

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- would blink really slowly, not believing you just hurt yourself on her guard. next, depending on how badly you got hurt, she would either rush to help you and/or yell at you

jokes (does she like to joke around)- remember when i said she hits you while laughing? that’s because you don’t laugh at her dad jokes

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- veri soft like mwah 🤭 cute smooches. if she was tall enough, she would smooch your forehead every chance given but she isn’t

love (what’s her love language)- the passive aggressive way of treating you is basically how she expresses her love. yes, she whines when you say she’s short but at least you don’t get bitten because of that, unlike minji

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- you coming to the studio with drinks for everyone during recording of omg. that’s how you won the rest of nwjns over btw 💪

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- she’s all over you, literally. hanni turns liquid during the night and she hogs you at least you’re warm

oddity (what’s a quirky thing about her)- the tsundere-ish approach she has to other people 😨 not u tho, she loves you

pet names (what does she like to call you)- bunny/tokki, cutie, lovely! mostly wholesome

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- marvel movies! hanni loves movies, especially marvel, so a must during the week for you both is sitting down during the evening and watching at least one movie

rush (does she rush into things)- yes 💀 in many aspects: you mentioned once you liked a particular breed of cats, she had one by your doorstep by the next morning, all panicked because the cat nuzzled into her. you liked a pair of rings you saw while passing by a shop and she bought them, even tho they were wedding bands 👍

secrets (how open is she with you)- oversharing? me thinks yes! wdm you don’t wanna listen to how minji made her coffee with spilled milk by accident but tried to put on a brave face and puked it out during practice later?

time (how long did it take for her to confess)- 0.46 seconds, she was smitten the moment you walked by. hanni thanks those above that her members weren’t there to witness how she fell to her knees, begging for your number and/or a date

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- she stops the goofyines, her baby is sad! tries to understand what and how she can help you :((

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- not really? hanni believes in bunnies or just, gay people. it can’t get that bad if you two come out, right?

warrior (how often do you fight)- you don’t fight, unless you don’t like one direction. then hanni’s all smitten with you all the time, but turns away with her headphones during car rides, pouting at you

x-ray (is she able to read you)- yea 🫡 she gets all the quirky things you do, making her a translator for all your shared friends

yes (how would she propose to you)- as if she had time to worry about things like that bruh. there’s a comeback happening, wanna come over to the studio and have some fun with the girls?

zen (what makes her feel calm)- remember watching movies with her? if hanni had a rougher day, she loves to put her head on your lap and just kinda stay there, with you. makes her feel calm and safe <3

part of [the fluff series]

[reallyromealone]

Shanks a/b/o headcanons?

Possibly with nsfw head canons further down yk

I gotchu

Warning

Male reader, gay, mxm, nsfw, smut, fluff

SFW

⭐needy bitch

⭐ He seems like he would koala cuddle in his sleep

⭐he has your wedding planned in his head

⭐demands kisses when you two have to be apart

⭐if you tell him you love him he will tease you then say it back

⭐ You better say it back when he says it though or he's gonna just stare at you till you do

⭐He loves annoying you because he finds you angry cute

⭐this man is constantly attracted to you, like he's incredibly down bad all the time

⭐ Not the jealous type, he trusts you to be faithful

⭐ He remembers everything about you, every detail because despite his teasing he does love you deeply

⭐ If he does get jealous? His haki is very useful

⭐ Short? No problem, just means your a headrest for him

⭐tall? Get ready for weather jokes

⭐he just wants to spend time with you all the time

⭐ Please play with his hair

⭐ He's loud as hell but he loves it when you read to him when you're alone together

⭐you two are definitely Luffies almost parents

⭐ God help anyone who hurts you, seriously I fear for them

⭐ arguing with him is hard because he's dense as hell and just -- what do you mean he can't dangle the kid by his ankles to keep him from doing dumb shit?

NSFW

👾he eats ass like a champ

👾and he doesn't eat it for your pleasure, no no he eats it for his

👾 Loves the lotus position, it feels intimate and he hates hunching over to fuck you

👾he loves being between your legs and having you pull at his hair

👾out of the bedroom he's loud and talkative bun in the bedroom? He's silent and so god damn horny

👾 Loves overstimulation, doesn't matter if it's you or him

👾 Likes hickeys...but only where he can see them

👾 Lowkey has a sir kink

👾and a breeding kink

👾 He can go for hours, nonstop

👾 When I say he's always attracted I mean ALWAYS

👾 He's lowkey ready to go whenever

👾loves hard fucking but god damn please make love to him

👾 Kiss his scar and bite his ear and he's gonna fuck you

👾stroke his ego and his cock

👾 He has a Fantasy of just you riding his cock while in a meeting with the crew

👾 But would never act on it because he doesn't like anyone else seeing you so dumb for cock

👾calls you all the pet names while you're fucked dumb

👾 His favorite is babydoll

[suzy-queued]

A Gallavich tale, told 100 words at a time.

**This story is now complete!**

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

A man jumped into the back seat of Ian’s car.

“You a driver?” Dark hair, one small piece of luggage.

“Yeah, only if you’re registered on the app.”

“Screw the app. Take me to Nashville.”

Ian choked on his Gatorade. “That’s eight hours from here.”

“So?”

“You gotta plan these things out. Get matched with the right driver.”

“It’s not like I knew that my fucking boyfriend was gonna run off to fucking Yee-Haw Land to elope with my sworn enemy.”

Ian checked the rearview and saw pain behind those angry blue eyes. He switched his app status to OCCUPIED.

---

Ian took the entrance ramp onto I-90. They should arrive in Nashville around … oh, 3:37 AM.

“I have an emergency kit.” Ian nodded with his chin. “Under the seat. A few comforts in case you need ’em.”

The passenger shuffled through the insulated bag. “Boxed juice. Granola bars. Fucking gummy bears, man? This is childhood stuff. You got any Jack Daniels?”

Ian felt a spark of disobedience. “I’ve got a few joints in the glove box.” This was definitely off-book behavior, but it felt right. “They come with a price.”

“What’s that, Jeeves?”

“You’ve gotta tell me your whole story.”

---

The dark-haired passenger scoffed. “You don’t look like you’ve got the stomach to get caught up on my bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Whatever. Fuckin’ sadist.” He settled into his seat. “You ain’t wearing a wire, right?”

“Not today.”

“All right, so, you ever heard of Berry Buds?”

“Those stuffed animals in the shape of fruit? Don’t people use those to smuggle coke?”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You too delicate to hear about crime, pumpkin? There’s murder, too. Betrayal. And a pair of pink flamingos.”

“Wait, back up. You forgot the most important part. What’s your name?”

The passenger only smiled.

---

Man, this passenger could talk. Ian heard an hour’s worth of Milkovich family crimes.

Milkovich.

Ian didn’t know the guy’s first name. Only how passionate he was, the excitement in his voice.

“So Iggy launched the box of M-80s into the river, right, and this long-legged yahoo waltzes up.” Milkovich paused. “Wait, did you just yawn? If it’s such a chore to listen, I can fuckin’ stop.”

Ian made eye contact in the rearview mirror. “I was promised murder. A boyfriend.”

Milkovich slunk in his seat. “Keith.” All his passion faded to pain. “Yeah … guess I can talk about him.”

---

“Keith is …” Milkovich seeped with defeat and anger. “He’s the first person who saw me as more than a thug. We met at the liquor store. Been together seventeen months. I thought we were long-term, you know? Then he starts spending time at clubs. Digging into the scene. I don’t give a fuck if he does coke to let off steam. But he keeps getting it from the same guy. Real tall motherfucker. White-blond hair. Wears sweater vests.”

“Northside prick.”

“Oh, you know this guy?”

Ian had seen plenty of club action. He hardened in solidarity. “I know the type.”

---

“Anyways, that’s how I realized my piece-of-shit boyfriend is marrying fancy-pants Logan Covington, the motherfucker who snipes our business and has led the biggest anti-Milkovich smear campaign this side of Michigan.” The passenger let out a sigh. He slowed for the first time in an hour. “Shoulda known by that haircut. He came home looking like a walking Ken doll.”

“So, wait.” Ian sorted through the complicated story threads. “Are you going to kill your boyfriend?”

“No, man, keep up. I want to get him back.” He leaned forward, laying his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna help me.”

---

Ian scoffed. “Don’t rope me into your drama.”

“Come on, man. We show up at the chapel, tell Keith I’m dating you now, let the jealousy unfold.”

Unbelievable. Ian shouldn’t even consider the offer. He had a ton to do this weekend. But Milkovich was obviously hurting.

Ian scratched his chin. “And I’d be on the clock the whole time?”

“What, you scared to do it? You a homophobe or something?”

“I’m gay.”

Milkovich stared, hard. He looked Ian up and down. “You never mentioned that.” He gave a coy smirk.

Ian felt a shot of electricity. “You never asked.”

---

The Silver Diner in Lafayette, Indiana bustled with activity.

Milkovich talked over the sizzling grill. “Still don’t know why we stopped here.”

“Can’t think on an empty stomach.” Ian flagged the waitress.

Jolene smiled, leaned into the booth. “Order’s coming right up, sugarpot.” She touched Ian’s arm as she left.

Milkovich frowned. “That shit happen to you a lot?”

“What?”

“Chicks waving their boobs in your face.”

“I don’t really notice.” But Milkovich noticed. Interesting.

“It’s good, actually. We can use it in our plan. People find you attractive.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say me.”

---

Milkovich rolled a coin across the diner table. “You see that? Table's tilted by a degree-and-a-half. Cheap off-balance pedestal leg. I’d have used a trestle instead.”

Huh. This guy’s shoulders relaxed when he talked about normal stuff.

“The key with builds like this…” The guy was smart. Layered. Funny. And his eyes twinkled when he geeked out about construction, apparently.

Ian was finding new ways to be awed each minute.

“…at least shim the motherfucker because…”

Ian interrupted. “I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan? I guess can pretend to like you.”

Ian’s stomach swooped. Pretend might not be the right word.

---

“Seriously, you’ll do it?” Milkovich raised an eyebrow. “Okay, lay it on me. Tell me everything about you.”

Ian enjoyed sharing his details. “I’m one of six kids. Two sisters, three brothers. Wait, you’re not writing this down? You’re gonna memorize all this shit?”

The guy leaned forward, intense, piercing. He traced his finger around Ian’s wrist. “We’re chained now. I’ll remember everything about you.”

This was absurd, but the guy seemed dead serious.

Ian felt goosebumps. He took charge and matched the guy’s intensity. “Then tell me your first name.”

A quick tongue flick. The guy nodded. “It’s Mickey.”

---

Turns out, scheming and joking with Mickey was easier than breathing. Ian drummed on the table. “Okay, how’d we meet? I gave you a ride somewhere?”

“And then I rode you.” Mickey laughed. “Simple enough. How about second date?”

Ian’s inner romantic spun into action. “A rooftop picnic. You brought snacks and whiskey.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

“I brought a tire iron and gun because I didn’t trust you.”

Mickey smirked, like these lies were becoming reality in his head. “Wise man.”

Ian swelled. His weekend suddenly had purpose. He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the goddamn world.

---

They hit the john before they got back on the road. Pissed in outdated urinals, washed their hands.

Ian watched Mickey closely. Every turn, every strut, every smirk. That’s how he noticed that Mickey flinched when the hand dryer shot to life.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian laughed. “You can dump a mob boss in the Chicago River but you’re afraid of a little hot air?”

“It’s fucking startling.”

Mickey paused in the doorway. Tilted his head. Looked up at Ian. “Keith … he never noticed that about me.”

Ian elbowed him, defusing his sadness. “I’m going to learn all your secrets, boyfriend.”

---

Around midnight, the rhythm of repeating street lights on Interstate 65 lulled Ian toward sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mickey looked damn relaxed, too. Seat leaned back. Legs stretched out. Talking in a low voice. “Let’s say I blew this.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Say I end up alone. Do I deserve that?”

Ian could certainly judge. He’d heard about Mickey’s crimes, his family, his dating history.

He wanted to hold Mickey’s hand. He wanted to find the right words to remedy this hurt.

“Mickey, you are the most –”

A bang. A crash. Ian’s face smashed into the airbag.

---

Ian took inventory. He was conscious. Neck pain. Bleeding nose.

He scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt. To wave away the airbag dust.

He pawed at Mickey’s leg, arm, chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scraped up.” Mickey coughed. “What happened?”

“Someone clipped our bumper. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. I was out of control.”

“Why are you pulling on my eye?”

Ian lowered his hand. “Checking for a concussion.” He tried to steady his breath, calm his panic. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Mickey set his injured hand on Ian’s, offering shaky reassurance. “Better than being worm food, man.”

---

The cops had come and gone. Reality settled in. Ian’s car was undriveable. They were stranded.

Mickey’s anxiety spiked. “How the hell am I getting to the wedding now?” He paced along the shoulder, pointing at Ian. “Who drives for a fucking living and doesn’t have roadside assistance?”

Ian spoke via speakerphone to a random tow company they’d Googled. “It’s a silver Camry. Near exit 130.”

Mickey yelled into the phone. “Just look for the goddamn ring of fire lighting up I-65.”

Ian prayed for strength. “Ignore him. There’s no fire.” Unless you counted the flames rising from Mickey’s nostrils.

---

Ian talked to Mickey in the crammed cab of the tow truck. “I told you I’d get you there. I’ll think of something.”

The mechanic pulled into a repair shop. “Car can stay here. Hank opens at 7:00 tomorrow.”

Mickey exploded. “It’s not open 24 hours?”

“This is Indianapolis, not L.A.”

“How are we supposed—"

Ian held up a hand to stop him. He could feel Mickey’s desperation, his impatience and heartbreak. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

The mechanic pointed across the street. To a run-down motel called King Richard’s Royal Inn.

Mickey glared. “Well, long live the fuckin’ king.”

---

Josie at the front desk didn’t even look at her computer. “I’m sorry. It’s race week. We don’t have room for more guests.”

Mickey glared at Ian. “Come on, Gingerbread. You’re taking me to the Motel 6.”

Josie snorted. “You’ll be lucky to find a campground in this town with a vacancy.”

“Guess I’m sleeping in your fucking lobby, then.”

As if Ian didn’t feel bad enough about this situation.

A chime sounded on the computer.

“Hey, now.” Josie smiled. “We’ve just had a cancellation.” She looked between them. “It’s a single. One full-sized bed.”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

---

“Door’s flimsy enough to kick open.” Ian unlocked the motel room.

Mickey groaned. “No TV. No closet. They better have hot water.”

“Jesus, the bed’s small.” Ian’s neck ached. This was officially hell.

“You gonna be all right, Red? We’ve got to get used to touching each other.”

Ian grabbed him and pulled him close, roughly. “Think we’ll be able to fool Keith?”

And, damn, Mickey’s face was right fucking there, looking tired. Cranky. Kissable. “We should do it bareback in the middle of the chapel just to piss him off.”

Oof.

Ian was not going to survive this night.

---

Mickey cracked the bathroom door as he showered, fogging up the motel room.

Ian sat on the bed, still for the first time tonight. He felt warmth. Pain. Adrenaline let-down.

Mickey’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. A hint. A tease. An invitation.

What if … Ian pulled the curtain back?

He could feel those sturdy shoulders, that smooth skin. Trace his tongue along the water droplets. Grab that thick … hair.

What if Mickey dropped his guy and took Ian on? Then what?

Would Mickey get tired of him?

Desire. Curiosity. Potential. Ian’s thoughts swirled like water.

… then the shower clicked off.

---

“Jesus!” Mickey pulled the curtain back. “Damn water turned to ice.” He jumped from the shower, lunging for a towel.

And of course Ian had been staring and saw everything. Mickey’s dripping body. The toned muscles in his legs. His stomach. A quick flash of his anatomy.

Ian turned away.

“Fucking freezing, man.” Mickey’s wet feet slapped on the floor. “This is on you, Gallagher.”

Ian peeked. The towel did nothing to hide the curve of Mickey’s ass.

God, Ian had to tamp down his infatuation. Maybe cockiness would work instead. “I hear skin-to-skin contact gets you warm the fastest.”

---

Mickey huffed at Ian’s joke. “You tryin’ to see me naked?”

“It’s for science. Research.”

Mickey shrugged and reached for the knot of his towel. The world moved in slow motion now, a tattooed hand tugging white cotton.

The fabric fell away, sliding down his leg. Dark hairs matted against skin. Body with the right balance of definition and softness.

Ian’s heart beat fast. He felt it getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

He glanced up and fell into Mickey’s eyes.

One touch could overcome the silence. One touch could reveal Ian’s crush.

Mickey smiled, all confidence. “Your turn, Loverboy.”

---

In this game of chicken, Mickey was winning.

Ian gulped. It was only fair, right? Mickey needed to see his body for their boyfriend charade to work.

Ian peeled off his jeans. His t-shirt, going slow and begging all his parts to stay chill.

Mickey never broke eye contact.

Ian slid his boxers down, breathless.

“Patriot tattoo. Boobs tattoo.” Mickey nodded. “Carpet matches the drapes. Uh-huh.”

How could Mickey stay so calm when he was tearing Ian’s nerves to pieces?

Mickey stepped within touching distance. “Only one more question, hot shot.”

“What’s that?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

---

Ian held his ground. “I’m a great actor.”

“Could you kiss me right now?” Mickey’s gaze raked down Ian’s body. “Kiss me and not get hard?” Mickey spoke oh-so-slowly. “We’re together, right? So we supposedly kiss all the time. Can you control yourself?”

A song burst through the tension. A silly cartoon voice repeating, You are my cute-cumber. You are my cute-cumber.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Fuck, my phone.”

He scrambled, but the sound went silent before he got there.

Ian laughed. “Seriously? That’s the cheesiest alert.”

“You don’t understand.” Mickey looked up with pain in his eyes. “That’s Keith’s ringtone.”

---

Keith’s call shifted Mickey's vibe from flirty to flustered.

Ian slid on his boxers and jeans. Being naked suddenly seemed wrong.

“Why the fuck was he calling?” Mickey threw the towel over his lap. “He didn’t leave a voicemail. Is he having second thoughts about the wedding? Should I call back?”

Ian had no clue how to help. “Just take a minute. Breathe.”

“My brain’s turning to mush here, Gallagher. I’m exhausted. I’m confused. We haven’t eaten in hours. And now this? Tell me what the fuck to do.”

Ian didn’t think. He yanked Mickey’s head back and kissed him.

---

The kiss was overwhelming. Tinged with panic. Wonderful. Scary. Exciting. Over too soon.

Mickey touched his own lips. “That’s good. I … needed that.”

“This trip’ll be stressful enough without you freaking out. When the anxiety ratchets up in that head of yours, I’ll take care of you, all right?”

Mickey nodded. Took a second. Smirked. “Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Knew you couldn’t kiss me without getting hard.”

“You’re an asshole.”

But the intensity on Mickey’s face told Ian not to push. The bright blue eyes. The absolute relief at being taken care of.

Ian let the moment simmer.

---

Ian needed to be supportive. A bodyguard. A wingman, offering safety pins and pep talks.

He pulled two joints from his pocket. “You weren’t meant to face this weekend sober.”

“Fuck, man, you always know what I need.”

“Snagged ’em from my glove box after the crash.” Ian lit up and offered one to Mickey. “I know everything seems fuckin’ hopeless, like your life is wrecked. You ain’t wrong.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point is, it’s okay to be who you are.”

“What’s that, big guy?”

Ian threaded their fingers together. “A loser, just like me.”

---

The wee hours passed in a purple haze of weed and exhaustion.

They didn’t sleep. They lay beside each other in that tiny bed, clothes on, joking and mumbling.

They bumped elbows, knocked knees, held hands.

Ian ached for more touch. For a kiss that meant more than comfort.

Mickey’s icy blue eyes held him at bay. I can’t face that yet. Please let me hover outside of reality a little longer.

In the orange glow of sunrise, Ian gathered his nerve. He asked the question he’d been pondering all night. “You still want to go to this wedding, Milkovich?”

---

Mickey sat too far away on the motel bed. “Why wouldn’t I go? Keith is my boyfriend. We live together.”

“How’s that gonna work out once the newlyweds get home?”

“I still want to go.”

This wasn’t right, goddammit. In the movies, a kiss leads to a romantic finale, not this stubborn insistence to stay on course.

Ian grasped at one last hope. “To win Keith back?”

Mickey inched closer. He held Ian’s chin. Broke into a smile. “To show him what a big mistake he made.”

This time, the kiss was only about the two of them. Fuckin’ finally.

--- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Hey. Is this thing on?

Gallagher’s been doing an okay job telling this story, but now it’s my turn. And none of that past-tense, passive bullshit. I’ll tell you everything the moment it happens, okay?

You’re gonna witness every mile, every pit stop, every tacky decision my ex makes for this wedding. His abysmal choice in groom. Some godawful silver balloon arch. Those lime-flavored vodka Jell-o squares he loves so much.

Damn, I can’t wait to see the scowl on Keith’s face when Ian and I start playing tonsil hockey on the dance floor.

We’re gonna fuck some shit up.

---

It’s seven AM. I’m camped outside Hank’s Body Shop drinking coffee-colored swill.

Ian’s beside me, giving me bedroom eyes, running his fingers up my arm. He’s tempting as fuck.

Hank unlocks the door and lets us in. “Knew you’d be waitin’.”

I spot Ian’s car, nod toward it. “What’s the damage?”

“Her bones are good, but you’re looking at three grand in parts and labor. I have an opening on October first.”

“October? That’s six weeks from now.”

Hank shrugs. “You can tow her somewhere else. No skin off my teeth.”

Ian eyes darken, and not in a sexy way.  

---

Look, I’ve learned a lot about Gallagher in the past day. If he says he’s gonna do something, he will.

We’re definitely getting to Nashville.

He’s got about eighty tabs up on his phone. “Ubering is ridiculously expensive. A rental car’ll surcharge me because I’m not twenty-five.”

“You’re not?”

“Not until next May.” Ian doesn’t even look up. “Greyhound leaves at 11:30. What time’s the wedding?”

“Six.”

“Guess we’re taking the bus.”

I fucking hate this idea. Ian can tell. He grabs me by the waist. “We can cuddle the whole way there.”

Okay, maybe I fucking love this idea.

---

We leave the car behind. Leave the body shop behind. Check out of the motel, leave it behind.

All I’ve been doing lately is letting things go. Releasing the goddamn trapeze wire and falling without a net.

My ex is the hardest fucking thing to let go.

Ian and I sit in the back seat of a cab, on our way to the bus station. He holds my hand, simply. “This is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax.”

He's a six-foot-high, freckly-armed godsend. It's easier to let go when a motherfucker like that is waiting to catch you.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

---

I shove down my hesitation, because fuck Keith. If I want to crash his party, I’ll do it with a wrecking ball.

Ian and I step out of an Uber, bleary-eyed. The white chapel sits in a commercial strip, bathed in neon.

There’s two pink birds dressed in tuxedos mounted out front. I rip one from the grass. “Goddamn flamingos, man. That was supposed to be our thing.”

A man greets guests at the chapel steps. “Thank you for coming, thank you ah-very much.” Rhinestones. Bell bottoms. Sunglasses.

I can’t handle this shit. “He’s having fucking Elvis officiate his wedding?!”

---

I’m ready to find out what kinda froufrou shindig my ex is throwing. I’m gonna bust in his skull the second he vows himself to that prick Logan Covington.  

Only … I haven’t moved yet.

Ian sets his hand on my neck. He touches a muscle that calms my whole goddamn body. “Hey, there’s a pizza place around the block. You up for it?”

I blink. “Bustin’ this up isn’t going to help anything, is it?”

He shakes his head.

Fuck. That voice of reason finally takes hold. “Pizza it is, then.”

The moment we turn, I hear a voice. “Mickey?”

---

Keith’s tux is perfect. His hair is perfect. “What’re you doing here? H-how are you?”

“Me? I don’t have a care in the goddamn world.”

He’s got candles in one hand and hideous flowers in the other. He pauses, like there’s no fucking sense hiding what’s going on. “I’m dying to know what you’re thinking.”

Well, fuck, I am, too. Because I didn’t plan this far. This whole trip’s been fueled by spitfire and rage. Now here we stand, face-to-face, and I’m torn between revenge and the strong freckled hands of my Uber driver.

I open my mouth to speak.

---

I can’t find the right words. My mouth works on autopilot. I turn my head and lay the biggest goddamn kiss on Ian. His body tenses, then he melts into it like we’ve been doing this shit for years.

I forget that Keith’s there. Elvis fades away. The chords of the practicing organist fade away.

I pull back slowly, staring at Ian.

“Um, hello?” Keith waves.

“Ian and I are gonna grab some grub. Maybe check out that haunted Nashville tour. Have fun with whatever bullshit you’re doing today.”

I don’t care how petty I sound.

I’m finally fuckin’ free.

---

I hear Keith stammering behind me. I don’t care what he has to say or what a clusterfuck this’ll be after the dust settles and we return home.

Ian and I shuffle down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

The pizza ain’t Chicago style, but it tastes amazing. The hotel Ian picks for us ain’t fancy, but the sheets are clean.

We kiss against the wall. He peels off my clothes.

25 hours. 475 miles. One motherfucking Elvis. One round of drowsy sex.

I’m comfortable tangled in Ian’s gangly arms.

We do the thing I’ve been dying to do for an eternity … sleep.

---

Ian hands our key to the hotel clerk. “My friend and I enjoyed our stay.”

I nudge Ian as we walk outside. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

I pinch my eyes. I need more.

Ian slinks against me. “You’re my… lover.” Now he’s getting it. “Wanna bite you. Wanna nibble on you the whole way home.”

Better, but I still need more. “When we get back, will you be my—”

“Yes.” For Ian, it’s as simple as that.

We got no car. No plan. We only have each other.

And that’s all I fuckin’ need.

---*---*---*---*---

ONE YEAR LATER

Ian threw a receipt onto the kitchen table. “Finally paid the last toll. Got all the Camry repairs done.”

Mickey smirked. “We never got to show off our fake dating skills on that trip.”

“There’s one last souvenir I gotta deal with.” Ian got down on one knee, holding a small black box. “You’re in this house – this home – all the time. Might as well make it official.”

“You sayin’ you wanna get hitched?”

“You up for it? No flamingoes, I promise.”

Mickey pulled him into a kiss. “Pretty wise choice, hopping in your car that day.”

[asthecrowrambles]

[ID a colored page of drawings of ellen basri. she is a tall man with long red hair, a beard, and eyebags. she is wearing a long skirt and cardigan and is looking at the viewer with an unimpressed expression in the left drawing. text reads, "judging you". in the top right she is blushing while looking angry/flustered. right shows two drawings of a younger ellen in her sidestep outfit, and her smiling with shorter black hair and blue tips. text points to her reading, "pre 💔". in the corner text reads, "ellen basri she/her". there is the male gender symbol, as well as the genderqueer, gay and lesbian pride flags. /End ID]

finally after all this time... ellen basri be upon ye ^_^

[icecreamcakez]

“Blood Dripping Out of My Mouth…” Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x M! Reader

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Word Count: 974

Warnings: Mild Blood, Biting, Fangs, Making Out, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Gay

A/N: coughing out some miguel o’hara fanfic to feed the simps ;3 btw the spanish might not sound correct because i know zero spanish and i used google translate

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You and Miguel have always been competitive at the Spider Society in your roles as Spider-Man. Sure, Miguel was the CEO of the Spider Society, but was he the best Spider-man? The answer is obviously hell no. You were confident in your abilities, and you were quite jealous of why he got to be the CEO and you had to be the lousy assistant under him. 

You were talking to Lyla, Miguel’s other assistant at hand, about the new serums in progress. She can tolerate Miguel way more than you since Miguel created her. You were interrupted by your gizmo watch vibrating suddenly in mid-conversation. The hologram of Miguel appears out of the watch in his signature Spider-Man Suit covered mostly in royal blue with small amounts of red in the design along with a digital red cape and red spikes from his wrists. He manages to somewhat make eye contact with you as a hologram. 

You scoff, annoyed by him. “What is it now, Miguel?”

“Office. Now.” Miguel responds in a low voice mildly angry and his hologram disappears from your watch.

Sheesh, this man has anger issues for no damn reason a lot of times. You begin walking down the lobby towards his office. You finally make your way into his office and there he is standing at a grand 6’9 tall with his magnificent pyramid torso build. His deep brown eyes narrow at the sight of you almost the color of sweet blackberries. His features were rich in Mexican-Irish genes. The broad man curses in Spanish tongue pinching his nose bridge. He goes back to making eye contact with you. Wait. There seems to be a small splash of…blood on his cheek? 

“You got something on your face, amigo.” (partner/friend) You say touching his cheek sending a warm sensation to Miguel.

He instantly softens to your soft flesh as you wipe the red liquid off his cheek, melting into your hand like soft clay waiting to be something more. Miguel snaps back into the situation and notices that he didn't clean the blood off his face. He pushes your hand away with his much bigger hand resisting being vulnerable with you.

“I need these documents of all the new spider-men and spider-women sorted alphabetically along with the older members,” Miguel says, locking his dark brown eyes with yours.

You sigh. “Miguel is such a pain in the ass…but he's kind of attractive. Whatever, stop thinking and work.” You say in your thoughts returning to your desk near his front office desk. You scatter the documents and begin sorting. Miguel is watching you closely, slightly blushing from his desk humming. Wasn’t he angry a minute ago? Twenty long minutes go by and you finish sorting the last document. Miguel smiles slightly revealing a fang.

“Done.” You say relieved looking up at Miguel who is now making his way towards you.

“Atta boy.” He conveys smugly knowing how to push your buttons.

“You’re welcome, Miggy~” You know he hates that stupid nickname you created for him.

He scoffs leaning over your desk and maintaining eye contact with you. Miguel speaks in a low and deep voice that sounds as sweet as nectarine.

“Can I give you thanks?”

You smile leaning closer, obviously being naive about what’s coming next from him.

“Sure, why not? I don’t even get paid to work here because it applies to my duty as Spider-Man,” you utter these words softly leaning close to hear what he has to say next.

Miguel leans in close over towards you with his stupid smirk painted on his perfect pink lips. God, he’s so pretty it pisses you off dwelling on his good looks. His lips inch slowly close to yours with each breath. Miguel’s hot breath touches your lips sending tingling sensations throughout your whole body like electricity to a pool of blue water. He finally closes the gap between you two with a soft and sweet kiss. He holds the kiss for a minute and releases it from you slowly making sure you both had your eyes locked on each other. Your face begins to redden realizing what happened.

“What…The…Fuck, Miguel?!” You spurt out blushing furiously. “I just kissed my boss, holy shit.” You say in your thoughts being shocked.

Miguel lets out a soft hearty laugh. He looks back up at you reaching his hand out while catching his breath and teary eye from laughing.

“Ven aquí, cariño…” (Come here, honey) Miguel says pulling you closer to him and forcing you to stand up from your desk chair into large muscular arms covered in his digital Spider-Man Suit.

He kisses you harder and more firmly pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues intertwine tasting each other’s sweetness. Miguel’s fangs brush your bottom lip while he holds onto the side of your neck. He bites gently on your bottom lip as he looks at you with your alluring eyes. He smiles still locked onto your full lip making eye contact with you, his eyes turning into a deep apple crimson.

“You’re so sweet mi amor…” (My love) Miguel says in a low seductive voice biting on your lip harder, drawing blood.

“Miguel…” You say as the blood slowly trails off your lip covering Miguel’s fangs.

“Aye, don’t worry I’ll clean it up.” He says smirking, beginning to lick your bottom lip with his warm tongue.

You blush slightly looking away yet still facing him. He finishes licking the blood off but decides not to stop, now trailing his tongue along the edges of your mouth teasingly.

“You’re going to pay for that pendejo.” (Dumbass) You say with a smug face looking up at Miguel’s sweet chiseled face slightly pulling away from your's to get a better look at you.

“Whatever you say, cariño,” He says with a hearty chuckle.

[verdemoun]

timewarp au going to pride:

jake adler has bi wife energy set to his ringtone. king of bead bracelets. he made them himself and hands them out with dangerous enthusiasm. will see somehow hitting on sadie (who is very thank you cutie but i'm married) and be like hello friend i also think my wife is beautiful stunning perfect human being have a bracelet. sadie is also dressed like a cliche tucked in plaid shirt cuffed jeans doc martens finger guns sweeping her husband off his feet and kissing him

bill has the tiniest pride flag but absolutely glared and intimidated his way to the front of the barriers and forgets to blink while watching the march. malfunctions when men actually flirt with him and has to sit down like his self-esteem is so low pls help him. gets called handsome and has to hold a water bottle to his head because world is spinning, does not know how to respond.

kieran and javier are taking turns annoying people with 'whats in your pants' memes intentionally put the weirdest things in their pockets like someone asks their gender and 'oh look three buttons a can of tuna and an opened pack of gum. who wants gum?' labels are too overwhelming they both identify as queer there is nothing cishet about either of them. crying over margaritas together why are we single when every single person in the world is so hot?

arthur and charles keep going on stranger missions to help find lost pins, escorting the youth to the <18 events and handing out water bottles. arthur does struggle with getting mistaken for a right-wing protestor because big scowl-y muscle tall white man with old timey cowboy hat and needs charles to rescue him from getting yelled at because he is too polite to interrupt people.

hosea and bessie were meant to be supervising dutch and bessie had way too much fun explaining this is my husband and my husband's boyfriend. hosea fumbling trying to explain he's not my boyfriend i love my wife. meanwhile dutch escapes and bessie and hosea both just sit down like oh no. this is. bad.

dutch is attracted to the sound of angry shouting like a moth to flame. micah (who does support the gays because his grand-nephew is gay (kai is not gay but is glad the misunderstanding has lead to micah being a better person)), isaac, jack and dutch all put aside their differences for one day and will get arrested for assault and 'infringing on the right to protest' while physically fighting bigots.

annabelle and susan are wearing their 'dutch van der linde made us lesbians' shirts while also holding 'we exist' banners and people think they assume they're referring to vintage lesbians but of course they mean lesbians throughout history including 19th century and long before they have always existed and always will go sapphos

abigail is going out of her way to break hearts she is calling people gorgeous and kissing their cheeks before running off like a manic pixie dream girl to continue the mission to fight whoever it was that gave john their number. john does not understand phone numbers he's being given scraps of paper with numbers on them wondering if it's some kind of encrypted treasure map. also he's genuinely afraid of furries. hiding behind his wife what the fuck are those.

[sardonic-the-writer]

—rum, fighting, and pirates

SUMMARY | you really need to stop letting jack get involved with bar fights

PAIRING | jack sparrow x reader

REQUESTED | no

WORD COUNT | 600+

WARNINGS | violence, drinking, all around piratey things

AUTHORS NOTES | hm. would you look at that. another man for me to be gay for. well i'll be

🥃 MASTERLIST 🥃 NAVIGATION 🥃 RULES 🥃

You knew better. Of course you did. You had been sailing with the crew of The Pearl long enough to know when to pick and choose your fights, albeit through lots of trial and error. Which would be all fine and dandy—if Jack Sparrow wasn't your captain.

You're really not sure how any of this happened. One moment you were sitting at some dingy bar in Tortuga with rum clutched fervently in your hand—Jacks arm resting drunkenly on the top of your head while Gibbs and your other crewmates flapped their gums about some tall sea tale. And the next, you were crouching behind a bar as various objects whizzed by your head, the drunkest man in the pub directly next to you—who just happened to be your captain.

Next chance you got, you would have to talk to Jack about who and who not to punch in the face, no matter what they were saying about his hat.

That talk would preferably be held far away from any rum on hand.

Far, far away.

"You know—" Your words were cut short as a broken bottle nearly grazed the top of your head, resulting in an impromptu string of curses to slip. "—sometimes I think the only reason you ever come ashore is to look for some new people to piss off."

"It would hardly be a trip int' land without a bit of action darlin. Otherwise why would I ever leave th' sea." Jack grinned, winking at you in response as the yelling continued from over the cover of the bar.

"A refill?" You shook an empty bottle of rum in his face for emphasis, his grin turning into a comical pout as he twisted his neck an unnecessary amount to stare into the empty container. The warped glass turned his brown eyes into an unnatural golden color, like the sun on the horizon, which confused you for noticing.

"You make a fair point love." He slurred. "What's to say we steal as much rum as these ol' arms can carry and make for The Pearl, aye?"

"I'm fine with anything that involves us getting out of here at this point." You sighed with faux exhaustment. Jacks grin only grew exponentially at your words, jumping up out of excitement before ducking back down as a wild candlestick knocked his beloved hat off.

"Ah." He blinked. "Forgo' bout that."

You laughed at the look on his face, picking up his hat from the floor and placing it crookedly on his head with a ruffle of his hair. "Yeah. I can tell. Now let's get out of here before they notice all the drinks are gone, alright?"

"I like the way you think, love." His eyes glittered with mischief as the two of you rounded up what you could of the booze and the crew, running out the pub's doors with what was soon to be an angry crowd hot on your heels in pursuit. But this was Captain Jack Sparrow. Nothing could catch him and his crew.

You supposed this was the day those people would never forget. The day they let Jack Sparrow and his right hand man (Y/n) get away.

[star-1111]

So imagine this

Quackity x reader but this mf (male pronouns and presentation)is 7'1

They have been bestfriends their whole lives and reader stoppes growing until 21

Theyre both streamers but nobody knows how tall is reader exactly (mf just went "im tall...but i wont say how much" *leaves having to duck down a lot to fit through a door* /hj)

Theyre just the true angry short x calm tall

(Also he might be tall but is so shy and quiet around people he follows quackity around and tries to hide behind him)

(Reader is a tall loser basically /j)

Hi! Sorry for the wait!

~

quackity x tall!male!reader

~ warnings: slight language ~

okay okay

first things first, when the two of you met he was def like "im not gay im not gay im not gay"

but well here we are

(in this story big q is a bi icon muahaha)

he thinks you're so goddamn handsome

will literally stare at you for hours

no matter your hair length, he will play with your hair

OMG YK HOW SUPPOSEDLY YOUR BEAUTY MARKS/MOLES ARE WHERE YOUR PAST LOVER KISSED YOU??

HE'LL KISS YOUR MOLES/BEAUTY MARKS IF THEIR ON YOUR FACE/NECK/COLLARBONE/ETC

okay here's where he gets 10% more fruity

lets say your on ft, and you're joking about each others heights

you say "stfu you're literally the size of a grain of sand"

he gets (jokingly) mad and goes "STFU" and tries to insult your height, but then goes "wait wait how tall exactly are you???"

you chuckle and stand up, showing him and man

boy oh boy

he's a flustered mess

stuttering blushing giddily smiling all of it

he thinks its so goddamned cute when you get shy and try behind him

it makes him feel tall LMAO

no matter your height he will beg to be the big spoon during cuddles

he just likes the feeling of holding and protecting you <3