#as decent as the probability of me ever writing anything anyway

[skrunksthatwunk]

damnnn that manga about making manga got me acting funny (making 5 year plans)

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[yourstrulyrika]

soft sex with leon kennedy ♡

ahhh i love this man. comfort character fr.

anyway no warnings. fem!reader and lots of love praise and aftercare :3 smut below the cut! probably the longest fic i ever wrote so pls tell me if it’s actually decent. i’m not used to writing long fics

a reminder rqs are open btw :3

Leon struggles with telling you how much he loves you. He’s always been a man of few words since you knew him. does that mean he doesn’t love you? no way in hell. he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

It’s visible with the way he’s so gentle with you. When holding you, when talking to you, sleeping with you, making love with you.

Because Leon doesn’t fuck; he’s making love.

he’s so gentle, putting you on a pedestal, treating you like a queen you are. his eyes are on you as he kneels down in front of you, hands already on thighs and gently squeezing them. you swear you can see little hearts in his eyes with how in love he is with you.

“That’s it baby, so good for me. Always so pretty, the prettiest girl in the entire world.” and he’s saying this so lovingly as he takes his time with you. first, he places loving kisses all over your thighs, mumbling how much he loves you after each kiss. he finally tugs off your panties and lifts your thighs up, letting out a soft moan at the sight in front of him.

“Good girl. Love you so much, princess, can’t believe you’re mine.” with those words, he places your thighs on his shoulders, burying his face in your puffy cunt. he loves it there, loves when you close your thighs around his head. he presses light kisses on your clit, going down to finally dive in and eat you out like a starved man he is. truth be told, when he’s between your legs, he always loses himself, always in his own world with how good it feels for him. always praising you, even when it’s barely audible.

“Mm, fuck, you’re just perfect aren’t you? Sweet girl. Just sit there and let me take care of you.” he loves your taste. always spends so much time on your pussy, making you come at least two times before he even thinks of himself.

when you start trembling, he knows you’re close. he speeds up his movements, clumsily reaching out to hold your hand as his hand rests on your thigh. and then you cum — and he feels like heaven’s greeting him right now. you’re squirming, because you’re sensitive and yet he never stops eating you out; quite the opposite. he makes it a challenge to make you cum faster than the orgasm before the next one. with how sensitive you are it’s not hard — he starts fingering you, gently curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot that makes you spread and lift your legs higher.

“Could spend forever between your legs, love. Fuck, you taste too good for your own good. How can I not grow drunk on you?” all he thinks about in this moment is you, you, you — your face, your pussy, your hand tugging on his hair. he loves when you do that, loves when you use him for your pleasure.

“That’s it, angel. Jus’ use me all you want, ‘m all yours, my cock is yours, everything I own is yours. ‘m here to please you, baby, please,” he actually starts to get whiny at his own words — cock so hard it’s throbbing against his stomach but he just doesn’t want to stop until you cum again. he has to see you cum again — it’s like a blessing to him.

when you finally cum, he has this big, proud grin on his face, eyes hazy but full of love for you. you can notice just how hard he is — and yet he doesn’t care until you ask him to slide in. of course he’ll oblige, anything for his princess.

he reaches out to take your hand in his again, guiding his cock inside with the other. both of you moan at the same time, you because you feel him snug so well inside, him because he feels your gummy, warm walls already wrapping around him like a blanket. he feels like he’s about to cum right there and now, but he holds back, wanting to make you cum again.

“Fuck, you’re made for me. You’re so perfect, I love you so much. You feel so damn good.”

Leon’s not rushing it. his pace is actually pretty balanced, not wanting to overwhelm you. he peppers your neck with gentle love bites and hickeys, all the way to your chest where he sucks your nipples like his life depended on it. fondles your breast with one hand, sucking on the other one while still holding your hand. he’s searching for that spot you love so well — and when he finds it, he’s so proud of himself.

“Right there baby? Yeah? Good girl, taking me so well, this pussy was made for me.” he’s adjusting his position, arching his hips to just hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly until he feels you squirming.

he loves being drunk on you, he loves drowning himself in you, your embrace, your scent. he loves everything about you. the way you scratch his back, dig your fingers in when you’re close — he moans so loudly at that you’re almost surprised if it wasn’t for him thrusting in you so well. you two are so close, but he cums right after you do — he wouldn’t dare cum before you.

he stays inside you for a moment, just staring into you lovingly. he presses a sweet kiss to your head, before slowly pulling out and picking you up.

“Cmon, babygirl. Did so well for me, time to take care of you.”

he carries you to the bathroom, cleans you up, makes sure you’re hydrated, well fed and clean before actually tucking you in bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest so you feel his heartbeat as you come down from your high.

[comfortless]

would König ever agree to be a sugar baby? 🤔 most people write him as the rich one in the relationship so I'm curious if the dynamic can be reversed

you’re calling to my weakness of König being taken care of for once here…!! cue König being the absolute worst sugar baby that has ever existed (lovebombing!). implied age gap (König is maybe 24-26 here, reader is anything above), porn mention, masturbation, slightly suggestive but mostly fluff. minors do not interact.

Begrudgingly, a younger König probably would.

He isn’t sure how these relationships even work. There’s plenty of money in his bank accounts, he’s got a decent enough apartment, a car, (some) clothes that aren’t riddled with holes or tears... Hell, there isn’t even really anything that he wants. His curiosity only begins to spike the second his thumb stops its scrolling, lands on a picture of her, and his world comes to a grinding halt.

The woman in the photo is the most gorgeous, sweet creature he has ever lain eyes upon. Just the image of her smiling softly at the camera, her hands placed in her lap whilst she’s seated on a couch is enough to send his heart hammering. She doesn’t look the part of some vapid, cruel thing he had anticipated on a site like this. No, the woman only looks gentle, her eyes are even a little sad… She's all alone, her bed is cold, and König is already hard at the thought of how this could go if he had just a little luck in his corner.

He makes the decision to message her without thinking. It’s late, she probably wouldn’t even see it until morning, and he doubts a woman this cute would want to bother with him anyway.

A polite, articulate: hey do you wanna fuck

Followed by: you don’t even have to pay me XD

He settles for pulling up some porn video with the faces just out of frame, jacks off to the hypothetical of it being she and him one day and falls asleep with his phone on his chest and come stains in his boxers.

There’s nothing about him that’s deserving of this woman’s time nor her response, but he wakes to the chiming of his phone and a sweet message from her anyway. One in which she asks him if he would like to meet for drinks so that they can talk, she clarifies that she will pay, and even tells him that she thinks he’s handsome.

Handsome. Something only his oma had called him when she patted him on the cheek as a boy.

His response is insistent, demanding almost, when he suggests that she come to him, meet immediately that same day. Who cares if it’s only afternoon by the time she arrives, he could go for a beer and a sweet, tight pussy at any hour, doesn’t hold himself back from telling her this either while he grins at his phone like he’s possessed - all teeth and wild eyes.

There’s a part of him that believes this woman will be scared off, stand him up entirely and block his account, but to his surprise, she does actually show up. She’s there before even he arrives, seated in a booth at the back of the bar with his order and her own placed neatly on the table in front of her.

His chest feels too tight when he places himself across from her, all cockiness diminished in light of something he hasn’t felt since he was two feet shorter and more than a decade younger.

He’s fucking petrified.

His to-be-sugar-mommy eases him with her softspoken voice, going over the less than rigid terms of their agreement and praising his looks as well as his ability to handle his alcohol.

She isn’t asking for sex, just someone to care for. She tells him that he’s beautiful, while he feels like a smear on the pavement in comparison to her. And fuck. He isn’t handling his alcohol well at all, he’s just nervous and needs to keep his hands and his mouth busy, because all he wants to do is bend this adorable woman who compares his ugly face to that of an archangel’s over this table and fuck her like a stallion, spit such filth into her hair that no amount of repentance could ever make her feel clean again.

He can’t. He can’t when she suggests in that same cooing voice that she take him shopping for boots that are less scuffed, offers her hand to him as though it’s natural for a lady so ethereal to tether herself to a beast. Her hand is so dainty and cold, whereas he feels like a boiler on the cusp of bursting the second their fingers slot between one another.

His head is a mess of thoughts, memories of being dragged by the collar to attend services with his oma where he never prayed. Shit, maybe he should start, because surely he has someone or something to thank for this, for her.

Their first date becomes the strangest ordeal of his life as she seats him on a bench and helps him to try on boots as though he were only a boy who didn’t yet know how to tie his laces. She even kneels before him and ties them up herself before placing his foot back on the store’s floor; doesn’t even comment on the obvious hole in his sock or the awkward, longing way that he’s staring at her, only presses her chin to his knee and smiles up at him with so much affection he thinks he might actually pass out for a moment. She buys the ones he likes, three pairs of them, and doesn’t even bat an eye at the price.

That’s when he decides it’s all too much: he tells her that he can buy his own stuff, that he doesn’t need her to do it or tie his shoelaces or anything because he’s a man, after all. He should be showering her in flowers and soft dresses, paying for her nails and hair dye.

His lady only laughs and asks if he wants to come home with her, he doesn’t have to stay, just sit with her for a bit. So… he follows her home like a sulking shadow, hovering just behind her lost entirely in his head. He had barked at her like a rabid dog and she still brings him back to her place, strokes her thumb against the back of his hand, offers him little smiles of assurance when he goes completely silent.

He wants to hate it, wants to tell her something dirty and toss a stack of cash her way when she opens her door for him. Instead, he finds his head in her lap while she pets his face, running the tips of her fingers over every scar.

Her compliments are the most ridiculous, beautiful things that he’s ever heard, ranging from outright calling him her angel to telling him that he’s charming, that the scars are pretty… He loves every second spent with her like this, with each soft brush of her fingers as they pet the top of his head down to his neck, the way she hums some pleasing song to him when she massages at his shoulder.

He’s never been pampered or coddled like this before, and it feels good. The boner threatening to tear its way out of his pants isn’t something he’s proud of this time; he only wants this sweet little fairy to feel as comfortable as she’s making him.

Maybe he could do that if she let him pull up her skirt and make love to her: he could be gentle if he tried, play with her hair and her clit while he slowly spears her open until she’s pliant and panting, take it slow until she comes around his cock and her pussy calls him to utterly defile it as well as the rest of her. There wouldn’t be a part of her left untouched.

When she asks to be held instead, he swears he’s getting all of that and then some: she puts herself right in his lap, her chest to his and her legs parted just enough to straddle his hips. Her head tips forward against his shoulder as his fingers dance across her back, squeezing at her hips before smoothing back up her sides. She’s so soft… the most pleasing thing he’s ever touched, smoother than gunmetal and the flat of a blade. The way she smells is even sweeter, like spiced tea and blooming flowers.

She doesn’t even slap him when he bucks upward against her pussy, grinds the throbbing bulge in his pants against the place that she’s warmest. No, she only kisses his cheek and tells him what a wonderful day she’s having, what a gentleman he is even if he knows that part is certainly a lie.

Her breasts are soft in his hands when he finds the courage to squish them, against his cheek when she guides his head down to her. She pets his hair, tells him how she’s always wanted to hold a man like this… that she’s been waiting for someone exactly like him for longer than she even knows.

She even laughs when she asks, “You think that I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

All thoughts of just getting a good fuck out of this woman die someplace beneath his skull. Who would ever even think to call someone so lovely and kind pathetic? He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine ever doing anything more than protecting her fragile little heart and letting her stroke at him like an overgrown kitten, not anymore.

“Nein… no…”

He swears he could almost see tears in her eyes when she shoots him a glance then. Appreciative, contented tears that he prays she won’t shed. He’s a man, he’s not going to cry, but… fuck, he might if she did right now. Everything feels so doughy and warm, cotton candy and summer rain when his grip around her tightens to pull her in even closer.

She wipes away those unshed tears as she nuzzles against his cheek, slowly rubs her nose there and leaves a trail of kisses up to his temple. His mind is devoid of anything but outright infatuation, some impromptu dedication. He would tell her right now he loved her and know wholeheartedly that he meant it, but love isn’t in the agreement.

His lady only just wants to give herself away for nothing in return, not for a dick to make her cry or his own money layering her pockets; she just wants to pretend he’s her own personal angel, bury him in all the love and gifts she’s never been able to give to anyone else.

He watches her when she falls asleep curled up in his arms, takes in the way she smiles even in dreaming when her soft breaths break up the quiet. He presses his mouth to hers until her eyelids flutter and her breath catches in her little throat. She wakes to the kiss and only reciprocates it with the same softness she’s displayed with every prior action.

Her lips part to take him in, and she doesn’t even moan when he laps into her mouth with a grunt. There’s no lust in this for her: only the most senseless adoration, all love and tenderness, the things he’s yet to properly learn.

She tastes like vanilla and honey, her tongue yields beneath his own… and finally he pulls himself away, staring into her eyes like he might find a treasure there, as if he wasn’t already convinced that every part of her wasn’t something divine and holy.

“Do you have any others?,” he asks, devoid of any trepidation.

There’s not a care in the world of how she might view him. He’s convinced, certain that whatever he’s feeling has to be mutual. There are butterflies fluttering like the gentlest tornado in the pits of his stomach, and just by the wounded look she gives him then he just knows she must feel them too.

“Only you.”

“Gut… gut.”

There’s another kiss, one that is initiated by the both of them and steals all breath from his lungs. It’s not her harboring tears this time, but him who feels the dull sting, separates from her and turns his head away to rub at his face. He knows that he’s the pathetic one now, burdened down with the thought that he’s head over heels for a woman for just treating him as if he deserves anything at all.

Damn her for the way she readily reaches for him to pull him back in, to kiss at the outer corner of his eye and tell him in such a quiet way that she knows… In just a day she’s noticed him more than anyone, given more than anyone.

When he guides her back towards his mouth with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, could he really be faulted for whispering a confession? “Ich bin in dich verliebt,” spoken nearly inaudibly before he shuts her up with his lips over hers.

There’s no need for an answer, he knows the agreement had nothing to do with love. She wouldn’t accept his money in turn, but maybe a heart would suffice. He promises he’ll send her letters each time he’s deployed between mashing his mouth against her own, swears he will come running back to her when those greedy kisses slip down to her jaw. This sweet dove only laughs and squirms in his lap, tells him she would love to see him any time before he shushes her again.

Shouldn’t sweet things like this know not to feed a stray?

[wonwoonlight]

when he finds out you're sick through the internet

A/N: idol!au. OC is also a celebrity though I don't explicitly say what. tiny teensy angst bc cheol is a worried Boyfriend💔 1.5k words! another random word vomits bc that's the only way i know how to write now lol idk why but everytime i write this kinda fic it's always seungcheol looooooooooooooool. not proofread, but enjoy!

[part 2]

Seungcheol doesn't really get angry.

For the three years you've known him in which you've dated him for two, you've only seen him actually get angry a total number of three times. None of them was directed at you, and all of them are for reasons that you would've exploded upon way before he did.

Seungcheol is patient and rational.

Seungcheol is normally patient and rational.

But he's never normal when it comes to you. And even though the patient bit still stands, nothing about his feelings towards you is ever rational. He's a little too emotional, a little too rash, and a little too worrisome when it comes to your wellbeing.

So when he's relaxing in the practice room during a break with his members, for once not on his phone because he's charging it somewhere on one of the tables, and he hears Seungkwan gasps a little upon his phone, he thinks there's another scandal blowing up upon the industry. But when the younger guy's blown out eyes meet him, colors drained from his face, Seungcheol hates that he knew it could mean one thing: something happened to you.

He shoots up almost immediately, not registering any words that come out of Seungkwan's mouth. His hands shake a little when he unlocks his phone, and his heart drops when he reads the official post from your company's twitter account that states your current condition, that you might need to pause your activities for the time being due to health reasons, apologizes for the worries, and asks for the fans' understanding.

He wants to get angry.

At who, he’s not sure.

At your company, for pushing you even though they know your schedule is practically inhumane? At your manager, for not making sure that you have decent rest in between schedules? At you, because he’s been telling you to fucking stop running towards whatever goal you have in mind but you insist that you know your limit and you’ll know when to stop?

Apparently, no you fucking don’t because else this wouldn’t have happened.

The rest of the members look at him in worry, and Jeonghan silently walks to their manager and the other staff to let them know about the situation at hand, that Seungcheol would probably not be in his best state to continue practice at the moment. The leader would probably insist that they continue anyway, but they’ve practiced for almost five hours already anyway and they could spare an hour or two for the leader when it’s clear that he’s worried beyond measure.

Seungcheol bites his lip as he tries to call you, his concern skyrocketing by the seconds the longer the beeping sound goes, no sign of you picking it up. He tries one more time, but you still don’t answer and he’s about to hurl his phone at the wall when your manager calls him instead, tells him that he sees his name flashing on your phone, informs your whereabouts, and that he should just drop by your place in a few hours if he wants to see you because right now you’re still sleeping in the car and he’s taking you home.

He finds it hard to say anything, a lump growing in his throat until he manages to swallow it down and ask how you’re doing right now.

“She’s… exhausted.” Your manager says quietly. “I know it’s my job to take care of her but… you know her. She didn’t tell me that she’s been having a hard time sleeping at night the past few weeks and it finally took a toll on her.”

It’s hard to suppress his anger, his breath heavier than usual though it’s not too noticeable unless they know Seungcheol. He wants to scream at your manager, but he knows it won’t do anyone any good and it’s really not the time nor the place for that. So he mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before he hangs up, his members looking at him with a mix of worry and understanding when he looks up at them.

“Go.” Soonyoung says. “We’ve practiced enough today. Take care of your girlfriend and tell us later.”

Seungcheol nods and sprints out of the room, beyond thankful that his members always have his back.

Seungcheol is glaring at you when you wake up, though the way his thumb is still softly caressing your head and the worry in his eyes clearly tell you that his anger is nowhere near his distress. 

You offer him a weak smile, unable to defend yourself because you know what his eyes are scolding you for.

“Sorry?” You whisper and immediately cringe at how dry your throat feels.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps you sit down and hands you your favorite mug. Taking in the moment, you frown at how weak you feel, though you really only have yourself to blame because you genuinely thought you’re okay and you can take it.

You know it’s on you for taking as many schedules as possible, practically everything that your company offers you even when your manager says he doesn’t think it’s physically possible for you to do all that in such a short span.

Thinking about it now, you realize that your manager and the rest of your team also gets the short end of the stick through your decision. Him, your make up team, and your stylists would all need to be with you and your ambition forgets to consider their wellbeing even when you wrongly claim you would be able to handle it.

Guilt starts to eat you inside out, and it grows even larger as you see Seungcheol in front of you–didn’t he say he had practice today?–his face screams distressed and his shoulders tense since God knows when.

“Hey, talk to me.” He says softly when he notices you’ve been spacing out and you’re nibbling on your lip like you would when you’re anxious, taking away your mug before enveloping your hands with his.

You tear up almost immediately, and he moves to sit on the edge of your bed to usher you into his chest, patiently listens to your nonsense as you try to talk through your tears. He gets the gist of it: sorry–manager–company–wellbeing–my team–didn’t think it through–made you worry–overestimated myself–sorry–and the list goes on. He exhales as he hugs you tighter, both understanding and upset at the turns of events.

Being in the same industry, he gets what you’re trying to do, understands that you feel the need to keep on running while you’re able to, relates that you’re doing everything for yourself and your fans. But still, it’s hard not to be upset to know you’re pushing yourself too hard when he’s been telling you there’s no need to run as fast as you are without resting; that you’ll only hurt yourself one way or another and he hates that the one time he needs to be right, it’s this.

You end up laying down against his chest on your bed, hiccups and sniffles filling your bedroom along with a random song he’s humming against your head. You pull away to properly look at him, the first time you’re doing it since you woke up earlier, and his hum stops in question.

“Thank you.” You manage to whisper, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt without even realizing. “For being here when I woke up.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him, simply leans down to plant a long, chaste kiss against your forehead before he pulls up your blanket so it’ll cover you properly.

“Just… don’t surprise me like that again, okay?” His breath is warm against your face, pleasantly so, and you nod as you promise him that you’ll take better care of yourself moving forward. 

“Are you staying the night?”

“Yes, I’ll return to the dorm the day after tomorrow. They’ve given me a day off.” You cringe at his words, though thankful that he’s been in the industry long enough to attain that kind of privilege. But still, you feel bad that you’re obstructing his practice and his members just because you’re foolish enough to– “Hey. Stop. I know what you’re thinking. No need to feel bad. I’m actually glad I get to rest with you.”

“But–”

“No buts. The kids can do without me for a day.” He playfully bumps his forehead against yours, his lips hover above yours merely centimeters apart.  He doesn’t meet your lips, though he kisses their corner sweetly and wraps you back into his embrace to the point where there’s no space between you two. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good night, Cheol.”

“Night, baby.”

“See you in my dream?”

“I’ll see you anywhere you want me to be.”

He hugs you tighter, and you try your best to return the gesture despite the awkward position of your arms. It’s uncomfortable and you’re sure your arms will be sore the next morning.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you succumb to sleep and find Seungcheol smiling at you on the other side of your dream, as real as he can be.

cont.

[theoceansluvr]

Study Date Headcanons

warnings; none ! characters; percy jackson, jason grace, + leo valdez author's note; did i technically write a study date fic already ? yes. did i write it with my big 3 ? no !! also i wrote this during breaks on my AP psych assignments so it's a tad bit wonky.. T^T

PERCY JACKSON -

oh boy.. you guys rarely get any actual work done-

but it's very fun either way !

i feel like he has a self established award system so that for every problem he gets right, he gets a kiss..

which usually just ends in him asking super easy questions he already knows the answer to in order to get one.

"hey, the answer to #5 is y = 7.5 , right ?" "uhh.. yeah ? you've gone over that like five times-" "crazy ! i got the answer right though SOOO"

very ineffective method, but you still fall for it

in the scenario where you do get some work done, it's usually bc both of you procrastinated super hard

(we hate deadlines in his household !!)

anywho, lots of snacks too ! like blueberries, blue cookies his mom made, other various things to yer liking !

amazing with science for whatever reason ??? so go to him for help !!

i give him aaaaa 9.5/10 on the study date scale: only productive when necessary but worth it for the kisses !

JASON GRACE -

the most studious person on earth, literally has never missed a deadline !

except that one time but that's bc demigod stuff

has decent handwriting ??(he was raised by wolves okay :c) but enough that you can share notes with having to decipher anything

really good in english but simply bc latin influences on it

will study for like.. 3 hours straight without breaks so you have to grab him by the ear to relax and drink something other than cold coffee and flat red bull..

takes a crap ton of ap and honors classes it's unbelievable, so def the man to go to for anything !!

ermm classical music or pure silence, no in-between ! unless you play the music which is usually what happens

makes you tea/coffee before hand since it helps him focus so he just assumes it'll help you

not necessarily a study headcanon but if you share classes he ALWAYS partners up with you !

anyways, i got sidetracked 10/10 on the study date scale: very productive evening !

LEO VALDEZ -

MY BOYFRIEND EVER !!!

another ap and honors class taker so pls ask him for help in literally anything !

ESPECIALLY MATH 🗣️🗣️

probably takes like.. algebra 2 freshman year

anyways, not the most focused person but he gets his work done super fast despite that !

fast and correctly might i add, like it pisses teachers off when he talks on class and is like "oh i already finished !"

makes you dance with him during study breaks :3 doesn't matter how late it is or if yer in the library, yer dancing to whatever music is playing in the earbuds you guys are sharing

if he finishes his work early he either helps you or just.. stares at you longingly ?? very sappy

he also draws all over his notes so good luck trying to read them !

he gets an 12/10 on the study date scale: im bias + i hate math and would kill for this man to help me with it.. T^T

THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO FUN TO WRITE- might start doing more multiple character works tbh.. anyways !! hope you enjoyed loves🩷 also it was very tempting to put connor in here :(( kinda wish i did but i have work to do !!

[cheshiresense]

Hi, I love your time travel with Stark!!! He's one of my favorite characters, so I love reading your ideas about him and Ichigo. I was just wondering, how do Hallows react to Stark? As a former Hallow who healed himself, would they treat him like a normal soul, or would they know he used to be one of them? I'm just curious if you had ideas about that. Anyway, thanks for sharing your story idea, I love reading them!!!

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I think generally speaking, they wouldn't know. I think that people can sense that it's a Hollow in the vicinity (as opposed to a Shinigami) because their reiatsu is hollow, it's not whole, it's missing pieces, fragmented in a way that a Shinigami's reiatsu wouldn't be. Like yes Starrk is technically still part Hollow, that's what he became, that's what he built himself back up from, and he can't just discard that part of himself, it's what makes up part of his soul, like scars you gain throughout your life. And his reiatsu is just naturally corrosive, it's an aspect of his power, so he can't get rid of that. But he's also a whole soul now, and at this point, there's actually not much of a difference in his reiatsu between his Shinigami and Hollow sides, he's perfectly merged. So there's that, and also ever since he learned how, his control's been second to none, so outside of a battle that necessitates major use of his reiatsu, he mostly keeps it under wraps since it can still hurt people and he's got a Thing:tm: about that. He probably keeps it at the level of an unseated officer, so enough for people to sense him coming but not really pick up anything else about it.

(Which reminds me, I actually also kind of headcanon that you can sort of tell how old someone is if you get a good enough feel for their reiatsu. Like obv not exact date of birth and age lmao, I just mean the older and more powerful someone is, the denser and heavier their reiatsu becomes, so if you're halfway decent at sensing reiatsu, you can sort of distinguish between someone who has just a handful of decades or a century or two under their belt, and someone who's comfortably into their hundreds, and someone whose reiatsu is just solid in a way that speaks of them having Seen Some Things, because you can't always tell via physical appearance but the soul remembers the years gone by. Ichigo is ofc an exception because he's part human, so like he prob reads around 60-100 years old to Kaien and co., esp when you put him next to Rangiku and Asuka, they sort of all read like the same age.

And all of that is just to say I absolutely want to write a thing for when Starrk finally lets his reiatsu out properly while Shunsui and Ukitake are right there and people will just be like why the fuck does this guy feel the same as the two thousand-year-old captains 😂😂😂)

[yuzuvrse]

Can we have some of ur mouthwashing headcanons for the tulpar crew? (Can be about anything btw) The brain worms are getting hungry again I fear… 😞

-ig ill be 🪷 anon if it’s not taken yet?

HELLOOO BABYYYY sorry this took so long i was dying bc of my finals </3 but anyways welcome 🪷 anon to the family!!!!!! these hcs ended up so unserious LOL

the crew got banned from playing uno after anya nearly flipped the table when daisuke put down like five +4 cards in a row now they just stick to sorry!

swansea hums to himself when he's working, it's usually like old songs but recently daisuke's pop songs have been getting stuck in his head. (i think it would be unbelievably funny if swansea starts singing like the brainrot versions of songs js bc daisuke keeps playing them. yk like the 'oh the weather outside is rizzy, and the fire is so skibidi' LMAOSKJDSK

daisuke doesn't really have a specific music taste, he listens to a mix of everything. doesn't know how to answer when people ask him what his fave genre is so he tries to act cool and says he only listens to rap music.

anya had a wattpad phase. i can't explain further i can just FEEL it.

curly is actually a decent dancer. his mom sent him for dance classes as a kid and he has a good sense of rhythm. jimmy makes fun of him for this though so he doesn't ever mention it.

jimmy has rewatched american psycho probably more than 117 times. he watches it and he's like:

(i am currently watching + reading it for the first time and patrick bateman is literally jimmy to me.) more content utc!

anya is terrible in the kitchen. like seriously do Not let her in there or the house will burn down just from her boiling water or smth. it's okay tho i will be her housewife <3 (i can't cook either) she is also very good at tetris for some reason. she's a little forgetful so she usually writes things that she needs to remember on the back of her hands but by the end of the day they're all smudged smh. but also she always has perfect nails!

curly is one of those guys who's just naturally good at things. yk when people are like 'oh yeah i never practice' and it pisses you off? he's one of those guys. ik ppl say he's british but he's so american to me??? he was definitely the jock in highschool that every girl crushed on but he never even realised.

swansea is a dog person. he's chill w cats but he definitely prefers dogs. he likes how loyal they are, and i can see him having a massive dog like a st bernard at home waiting for him. but if his kids ever brought back a kitten or smth he'd be the one to be all 'you guys better take care of it bc i won't' but then you see him becoming besties with the cat LOL.

daisuke LOVES the beach. literally a water baby. he's very good at surfing, and always ends up with a tan that makes him look even more handsome bc it compliments his dyed hair so nicely. i think that he grew up in a big family w lots of cousins around where he would be one of the older kids, so he's very good w children as well. he somehow knows the best way to entertain them and keep them out of trouble. (primary school art teacher daisuke are you guys seeing my vision?!?!?!)

jimmy gets nightmares and thus has difficulty sleeping. he lies whenever curly asks him about it but those dark circles say otherwise. this might be random but i also think he's good at singing. in another world he could have been a sleazy rockstar but instead he went to space. are u guys seeing the visual of jimmy laying back in bed strumming his banged-up electric guitar... i hate this mf.

anyways that's all for now! i had a lot of fun w these hehe <3 hope you liked them!

[thepigeonhasapen]

hey can i request for charon from hades x male nymph reader who is a chef in the house of hades headcanons

Of course! This is my first time writing for Charon tho so forgive me if it's not great. Also I try to keep all reader inserts as gender-neutral as possible so I hope you don't mind, sorry! Hope you like it :D

🛶Charon/Chef!Reader Headcanons🛶

I imagine you meet through Zagreus as Charon doesn't visit the House very often. It's not that he's banned from it or anything, he just much prefers to be on his own. So Zagreus is really his only source of gossip. Luckily, Zagreus is chatty as hell and mentions you to Charon almost immediately. Hades rarely hires new staff so of course Charon's interest is piqued. He's even more interested when Zagreus brings him some food you've made. Now, Charon doesn't usually care for food one way or the other. He appreciates the Nectar Zagreus brings him, but honestly he'd be equally as appreciative of like a cool rock or something. Still, something about your food is intriguing to Charon. Maybe it’s your nymph heritage impacting the way you cook? After all, nymphs are rare in the Underworld.

Charon kinda lowkey pesters Zagreus to bring him more of your cooking. Zagreus happily does, but he also meddles because he's Zagreus and I'm pretty sure that man physically does not know how to not meddle. He'll start by mentioning to you that you've got a fan in the Underworld.

"You know... Charon's been going nuts for your cooking. Well, I mean, as much as he's capable of going nuts for anything really."

He'll also encourage Charon to go see you in person himself. It occurs to Charon that yeah. That is a thing he could do actually. He doesn't really care for the House but you intrigue him so he'll manage. For a few visits at least anyway.

I choose to believe that Charon is fully capable of making himself understood by anyone if he actually wants to talk to them. He simply doesn't bother most of the time because he just genuinely wants everyone to go away and leave him to his own business. However this isn't common knowledge so you're surprised when you find you can understand Charon. You certainly weren't able to understand him when he first picked you up from Erebus.

Charon gravitates most to the open, bold, chatty type, but he can appreciate it if you're quiet and somber instead. Be a decent person, treat him with respect and kindness, and Charon will keep coming back.

Nyx likes that you've encouraged her eldest son to visit more often and will draw you aside and tell you so. Which is probably quite alarming because she hardly ever talks to you. (Canonically she does tell Dusa off for talking with Zag, but it's different in this case. Charon is perfectly alright cutting ties if people push his boundaries too much, unlike Zag who will try to work it out.) Hypnos also stops by to thank you, because now he gets to see his brother more often! Also congratulations. By befriending Charon you have now earned the respect of both Thanatos and Hypnos! Thanatos is more subtle about it, but Hypnos is now so fully intrigued by your ability to draw his brother's attention that he will routinely ditch work to come hang out with you. I hope you don't expect him to help with cooking though. Hypnos is more of a sit on the counter and gossip kind of colleague.

Charon starts to make a point to visit you as often as he can. Like his brother, he'll sit with you, but unlike Hypnos he'll actually use a chair like a proper adult. He finds it fascinating to just sit quietly and watch you work, and will occasionally rumble out a question about what you're doing. May potentially be enticed to chop vegetables or stir something, but really he'd just prefer to watch. He can't help that he finds you so enthralling!

Kind of a nuisance to be perfectly honest. Won't outright steal food but he will stare at you with puppy-dog eyes until you let him taste. And once you two grow close, Charon becomes a lot touchier. Will stand directly behind you with his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder.

Scary dog privileges activated. Because Charon likes you, you have amazing job security. If you're ever fired, Charon will be over the moon because now he gets you all to himself immediately find you another place to continue your cooking. They aren't as prestigious as the House, but there are still bars and restaurants in Elysium he can find work for you, if that's what you want to do. If you're really broken up about it though, Charon will just straight up go on strike. Look, he's besties with Zagreus and he'll still charge him like fifty bucks for a sandwich even if he's on the brink of death. My man is a petty bitch.

[cut-it-out29]

(Previous anon) No no you’re good you didn’t upset me! Here, I’ll give you something to help u feel better if u want? *drops small plushie of a sea turtle into his hands*

Everyone is so worried about the bean (ㆀ˘･з･˘)

<<< First

< Previous

Next >

Way more under the cut btw!!! Lotta ranting down there…

Ehehhe yeah erm- the way I’m resisting the urges to write him with a continuously more southern accent

Even on the last ask I was almost gonna have him say something along the lines of ‘hun’ or smth like that- like in the way the nice old southern ladies would call ya’ sugar, baby, hun, etc. :)

If that makes sense??? That might not make sense-

It’s a stupid little headcannon but since he’s my character it’s basically just cannon atp 💀

Uh- and on that note Dreamy would also have a slight southern accent! Though probably a bit less noticeable, at least slang wise… don’t really see him having a super thick accent in any direction.

He would probably say things in an ever so slightly southern way with little to no southern slang whilst night on the other hand NM just has a light southern accent and uses a decent hand-full of southern slang

But really that wouldn’t make much sense since Dream would actually interact with more of the villagers and therefore use more of their slang and such?? I suppose?? But uh- DOESNT MATTER DONT THINK ABOUT IT

I’ll make an excuse that like- idk- Dream used to have a thick southern accent that NM picked up from him but after they entered the Multiverse jaundice here ended up switching up to whatever’s most around him since he talks to a lot of other people while Nightmare on the other hand only really talks to Killer and later on the rest of the gang so his accent set in before he started talking to many people?

Yeah- yup, that’s cannon now-

I just wrote this out of nowhere and it’s cannon now.

Have fun with that

Sigh

Their characters have developed so much since all these asks /pos

Originally NM was gonna be really withdrawn and mistrusting, quiet and often uncaring to those outside his close personal group.

And he’s still all of those in a way but now he’s much more cold but warms up relatively quickly in comparison (unless he senses ulterior motives / bad intentions from someone) whilst still being somewhat withdrawn he’s actually very careful not to upset people unintentionally and is a paranoid level of apologetic- sigh yet another sign of his abuse from villagers- and he’s pretty protective, though he’s always been that way in writing!

He’s.. more sympathetic

Anyway

fun fact : The little moonberry here has never seen the ocean! He’s read an awful lot about a lot of things but he’s never seen an ocean or a sea turtle but he’s always wanted to- specially he wanted to see turtles and moon jellies more then anything! Funny you managed to choose an animal he likes :)

[cyberpersonstranger]

𝑵𝑬𝑰𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑶𝑴𝑨

𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺 !🌟! 𝑮.𝑵 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪/𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳. 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪. 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾.

𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑩𝒀 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 (couldn't find the specific thing :( )

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂/𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋↴

Neito is by far 100% a Grandma's boy. He has one of those Grandma's who is super sweet and lets him get away with EVERYTHING since he's her first and/or only grandbaby. He spends a lot of time with her outside of school so if you ever wanna hangout with him expect a 50/50 chance of him saying " I'm with my grandma, who's way better then you." His grandma most likely taught him piano when he was younger, he just looks like a pianist. (I'm saying this as a pianist lmao) If you ever ask to meet her it's an automatic no, his grandma's for him only (don't take this in a weird way, he just doesn't like sharing attention) You're honestly surprised how the poor woman puts up with his ass.

"No I'm going to my grandma's, she's way cooler than you anyways."

If you somehow get close to him to the point where he'll ask you to hangout just know he has MAJOR gossip sessions. Total tea spiller. He'll invite you to his dorm one evening just to tell you all about Kuroiro's crush on Komori and how he for sure knows Komori's gonna reject him. As of Class 1-A (assuming you're not in it because no way in hell this boy would go out of his way to be nice to a 1-A student) he doesn't gossip, he shit talks and expects you to agree... But usually you just let him ramble. It's obvious to you that Neito envies them due to the attention they receive, even when he claims he doesn't.

"Pff what would I be jealous of? 2 people in my class failing their provisional licensing exam? Or an angry blasty boy who only cares about himself?"

If you're in 1-B he's actually kinda decent in class. A loud mouth all the way but he's real smart. Sometimes after class if you have gotten a problem wrong he'll definitely tease you and brag about being smarter. He's just the kind of guy to do that, y'know? If you have better grades then him he'll probably get super jealous of you, and maybe even try to start an academic rivalry.

"HA! I KNEW I WAS BETTER- oh you have a 98 in AP English." (He has a 95)

Meanwhile, if you're in the support course and he deems you as a friend he'll suddenly be in the workshop 24/7! He just loves adjusting his costume especially if you're the one to do it. He'll follow you around the workshop and just ramble on about gossip, or his day. Considering you probably won't push him away you just listen as you adjust some of his gadgets. (I NEED A REQ ASKING FOR THIS 🙏)

"No no no! It's not the right shade, I'm thinking maybe a little bit darker..?"

Pays for everything. I know I've said this about multiple characters (I have a habit of reading my works once then never again so I'm not sure which but I've definitely said this before.) but he just can't help it! He has money, a rich boy for sure hence his usual cockiness. But if you two are close suddenly you don't have to pay for any lunches you two go out on or if you two simply go to a corner store or something. He'll definitely bribe you with it though.

"Remember that time I spent a bunch of yen at lunch? Now can you come over and let me tell you about the new class A scandal?"

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂↴

Remember how I said he looks like a pianist? He's 100% a show off when it comes to piano. If you two are out and about and he sees a piano prepare yourself to hear all 3 movements of Moonlight Sonata. He probably isn't the romantic type of guy to write you a song, but he loves playing FOR you.

"There's this song I wanna play, wanna listen to me play it? I need your input."

Compliments boost his ego so much it's not even funny. Compliment his quirk, or his hero name, or just anything and he gets so cocky. He'll even compare himself to some Class 1-A people. It means a lot when you praise him and it'll never leave his mind. He also usually doesn't thank you, just agrees.

"I know right, Phantom Thief is so brilliant compared to Lord Explosion Murder or whatever-"

Neito is an attention whore, especially when it comes to you. He loves to soak up attention and never wants you to spend it on anyone else. It's like you're a spotlight shining on him. You two are almost always together anyways. One is never seen without the other and it's actually somewhat sweet for someone like Neito. Such a quality time guy.

"Wanna play Dress To Impress? I'll buy you VIP."

Not too big for physical affection, he doesn't take me as the type of guy to like being touched. Most of the time he's sore from training anyways. Your presence is enough for him to be satisfied. HOWEVER, if physical touch is your main love language he doesn't mind holding hands or cuddles here and there.

"My muscles are sore and they hurt, no I don't wanna cuddle right now."

Has definitely taken you on shopping sprees. He likes to show you off and enjoys spoiling you. I can definitely picture him placing a Vivienne Westwood necklace along your neck. (Sorry Vivienne Westwood is my favorite brand.) Maybe it's because he was spoiled as a kid or something else, he just enjoys buying you stuff.

"You can get that too, I don't mind, whatever you want love."

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 ↴

𝐓𝐖𝐬: nsfw obviously, CHARACTER AGED UP. mutual masturbation, tiny bit female based (sorry for my boy kissers out there) belly bulge, oral!m receiving

As mentioned Neito isn't a big guy when it comes to touch, so mutual masturbation is perfect. Laying next to him as you get yourself off and he himself is stroking his own lengthy heat is just perfect. You can analyze the watering in his eyes and how he whimpers when he gets close to his release. However, he never really looks you in the eyes. He won't admit it but for some reason it makes him nervous.

"Quit.. egh!... Looking at me.."

When he is actually inside you he likes to see a belly bulge. It reminds him that he is inside of you. YOU. When he sees it he gets this stupid smirk on his face, then he pressed down on it, feeling himself in you. 100% ego boost from this.

"Hehe... That's.. me"

Neito hates giving oral, not only does he think he's bad at it but he just doesn't think he needs too. On the other hand, GIVE HIM ORAL. ORAL. ORAL. SUCK ON IT, SPIT ON IT, KISS IT. USE. YOUR. MOUTH. He loves getting his dick sucked, and honestly the first time you ever hear him moan will most likely be because of oral.

"Y-Yes. Y-Yes.. oh god.. please."

A/N: Low-key rushed the shit out of this, and writers block is a pain in my ass, hope you guys enjoy though

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep.14: Part 1/3

Hello!!! =D

Welcome back to my crack posts!

Part 2, Part 3

Ep 14 ruined me, just so y'all know. I'm honestly scared for what the next episode will do to me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warning: long, long post 😊😅 (also divided into three parts this time because I wanted to screenshot the whole damn thing, but this is next best)

I did not expect Q to be the one to stand up for Phum, but I wasn't really surprised after the last ep. Previously, he'd be the first one to go up in arms, but he's starting to understand maybe everything isn't that straightforward, and despite his friends meddling in his own relationship, he wants to leave Peem alone.

Conclusion: he's a very good friend.

Of course. I should've known something like this would come up 😭

Of course they've taken baths together.

I love this friendship so much.

You again. 😶 I swear to the gods, this guy will give me high blood pressure or something. Please please just leave Peem, alone. Learn to take a 'no' and mantain social distancing.

Peem... you're too kind for your own good. (I get it though)

You have no right to say that, especially without knowing the full story. But I'm feeling kind, so you're still a (mostly) decent human to me. Try not to ruin that impression. And never, ever again say anything to my babie Phum. Ever.

Oh my gods my heart broke for Tan 🥺 Here he was, probably never having dated after he fell for Fang, so knowing that Fang had dated even after whatever they went through must be so painful to him.

FANG KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S WRONG AND HOW TO FIX IT.

Just like we see Tan waving away Fang's insecurities every time, Fang does the very same for Tan.

I love them. <33

🥺🫶🏼

They're both so whipped-

Fai: I didn't see anything 👀😗 (we all know she's fangirling so hard inside)

Fai is me, I am Fai.

No but, Phum, are you sure Peem staring at you for a long time won't make your heart race?

Whipped. They're both so goddamn whipped. *sighs fondly*

The horns I'm dying 😭😂

Phum wasn't even surprised 😭👍🏼

Okay, not the best impromptu band performance/concert I've seen, but this is Thai BL, and they need some music and at least like 10 scenes with some band to pass whatever standard of approval, so I'll let it slide. Also, I'm terribly fond of these idiots. <3

HANDS.

They're besties for a reason hehe

You're asking the question, but are you ready for the answer?

I have already gone crazy over this too many times, I really don't have the energy anymore.

Peem is definitely winning Best Non-Confession Confession of the Year Award.

Are we still talking about the painting, or...?

Honestly though, when he was saying this I got actual flashbacks of Phum kicking the ball into his painting and how their relationship developed from there till where they are right now.

HE-

He named it "Happy" because it's all the things that make him happy. 😶

I had to pause here to take a deep breath so I didn't break out in tears two eps in a row.

WHAT IS THIS SERIES DOING TO ME.

Also, taken together, they are a story in 3 pics.

I'm just gonna go sob in the corner.

When faced with that smile and that "na, Peem, na" how could he ever deny Phum anything 😭

Textbook definition of a blushing boy who just became boyfriends with his crush the boy he loves. <3

No, he thinks he's a babygirl and rightfully so.

THIS HUG. That's it. That's all I have to say. I have no words for how this made me feel, and will make me feel for the rest of the forseeable future.

I end Part 1 here. Part 2 and 3 will be out tomorrow (because they are quite a bit long and I have Thoughts about them that I need to write in detail)!

If you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading!! 😊

Here, have a taco 🌮

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[amazingmaeve]

INFATUATION (1/?)

homelander x fem!reader

summary — homelander meets Ashley’s sister and he’s already feeling infatuated with you and he just can’t help it, even though ashely is fucking annoying he can’t help but think you were the exact opposite.

warnings — homelander is himself a warning, stalking, toxic behavior from homelander, breastfeeding, kinda angst and fluff

word count — 2174

authors note — this is my third homelander fic and the other two are on my AO3 account and this one will be as well. also tried and different writing perspective.

homelander masterlist | the boys masterlist

YOU took a deep breath looking at the huge Vought tower, looking down you saw your daughter in the stroller and it calmed you down a bit. Eleanor was the light of your life and yeah that might be a little bit of a cliche but it was true.

Her father ditched ever since he figured out you were pregnant and all you had was yourself to help fend for you and for Eleanor. He was a douchebag anyway only cared for himself and his own life, not caring what happened to you or Eleanor but you were doing okay on your own.

I mean yeah paying for all the stuff for a baby was hard but at least you didn’t need to pay for formula since you breastfeed, but you just move for a job that would hopefully work out. Luckily it was close to your sister, Ashley. You’ve been in contact but never visited since you didn’t have the funds to do so, but now you could see her all you.

Ashley was your number one supporter when you got pregnant and she was even there when you gave birth and loved Eleanor. She was also the last defining factor of moving here in the first place, you could have a job that paid decently and see your sister.

You knew she worked for some of the most popular supes in the world and that’s why you were kind of nervous to step in the building. They were superheroes though, they’re not dangerous. At least Ashely hadn’t told you anything that would imply that and she even invited you to come to her work.

So how could this go wrong.

It was just worrying, that’s something you’ve done since you were a small child and even took some anxiety medication to help.

Walking into the big building with your stroller, you would’ve thought people might’ve been ogling at you but it seemed like everyone was into their own conversations or just minding their own damn business. That was at least nice, at least.

But it was intimidating standing in the lobby of this building where the seven stayed. The supes were nowhere to be seen at least and you hoped Ashely would get down here soon because it was getting awkward. You texted her when you first arrived which was about 5 minutes ago and you were starting to worry.

Luckily Eleanor hadn’t sensed your discomfort.

“Y/N you made it,” Ashely says with a smile as she walks up to you, wearing her usual bright pantsuits.

“I was worrying you forgot about me,” You said with a smile as you hugged her. She gave you a tight squeeze before looking down and smiling at Eleanor.

“How’ve you been,” Ashely asked as the two of you walked towards the elevators. You didn’t know where you were going but it was probably to her office or some more private place so you could talk.

“It’s been hard taking care of a newborn baby but I’ve been pushing through it,” You told her vaguely not wanting to worry her. You’ve been only getting 3-4 hours asleep on a good night, but it was the normal life of a single parent, or a parent in general. “Eleanor is totally worth it though, she is the cutest thing,” You cooed at your baby as she gurgled in her stroller.

“She is, and I’m glad you brought her here because I’ve been wanting to babysit and since you’re closer it's so much easier to do,” Ashley says with a smile.

“I just don’t want to intrude on your life, you have a job that you need to do and having a baby will only make it harder,” You expressed as you picked at the skin around your finger nails.

Bad habits die hard.

“It wouldn’t be a burden trust me, I’ve been wanting to see my niece since she was born and I insist,” Ashley promised.

“Okay only if you’re okay with it,” You muttered as the elevator doors finally opened and you walked behind her, to her office which seemed totally cool to you.

“I can’t believe you got your own office that is totally badass, and it totally suits you,” You complimented as she closed the door behind her and leaned on her desk and gave you a coy smile.

“It does feel good to have an office but this job is kinda grating,” Ashley murmured looking down at the floor.

“That is totally understandable though, I mean you’re brushing shoulders with the seven, the most famous superheroes, who wouldn’t be stressed,” You reassured her sitting on the couch and placed the stroller next to you so you could keep your eye on Eleanor.

“At least somebody understands,” Ashley says, giving you a smile. Something dings on her phone which she then pulls out of her pocket and her eyes widen. You look at her worried as you move the stroller back and forth. “I’m sorry I have to go,” She rushed out.

“Wait what am I supposed to do here,” You quickly ask as your heart races against your chest.

“Don’t worry I won’t be long, just stay here playing the tv, I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Ashley says before leaving the room and slamming the door behind her.

Unfortunately for you that woke Eleanor and she started to cry as you jumped at the door slamming. You stood up and grabbed her and started to bounce her in your arms trying to calm her down.

“It’s okay,” You cooed as she continued to cry and scream in your arms and it seemed as though the bouncing didn’t help your stressed baby.

As you were about to check her diaper in case it needed to be changed, you felt something wet on your chest and you immediately knew what it was. You hadn’t breastfed Ellie since early this morning and your breasts were full, when Ellie started to cry it usually happened. Instead of checking her diaper, you would try to check and see if she’s hungry first, and since you’re already ready for it, might as well take advantage of it.

Sitting down on the couch, you lifted your blouse up and since you decided not to wear a bra that day it was a little more easy but it ruined your shirt and hopefully you could get Ashely to find one.

Settling Ellie in your arms right near your primed nipple she immediately latched, and since your breasts were full it felt like relief as she began to drink from you. You supported her head as you leaned against the comfy couch, she squeezed the fat of your breast as she suckled the milk out.

It would normally hurt due to her pinching but since you were in a relaxed state you didn’t really mind. As she began to relax, you began to as well.

You looked at your baby as your chest was filled with so much love, that you would have never felt for anyone else. You probably wouldn’t feel this amount of love for anything or anyone else that enters your life again.

And you were perfectly fine with that.

“Ashley I’ve been fucking looking for you every-,” Homelander cursed as entered the room with an angered expression on his face but it turned into a confused one when he saw you.

God this was the most embarrassing moment that would ever happen to you, you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed of breastfeeding but this was America’s most beloved supe and when he looked angry as well.

Homelander averted his eyes so they weren’t trained on you. He was angry when he was looking for Ashley and expected to find her in her office but who the fuck were you and he didn’t want those old thoughts to come back. But he couldn’t help it as he saw the scene unfold before him.

“I’m sorry Homelander-sir I was ju-,” You began to say as you stood up and turned around so he didn’t seem as uncomfortable. It was obvious due to his stature stiffening as he entered the room and you didn’t want to do that. As you were speaking though you were cut off by him.

“Who the fuck are you,” Homelander snapped as he looked at you as you turned around. Ellie was still at your nipple, and you didn’t want to remove her from it as she seemed very hungry so you did what you thought was best.

“I’m Y/N Ashley s-sister,” You muttered and stuttered as you stared at the wall and began to force your body to relax so it would freak out Ellie.

Homelanders gazed at you even more confused. He didn’t know Ashley had a sister or even a niece for that matter. But he couldn’t deny that you were pretty, beautiful even and he didn’t know if that was due to your actual look or what you were doing.

Ellie decided that she was full as she removed her mouth off of your nipple and you used one hand to pull your shirt down, so you could turn around to face Homelander.

“Like I said I’m sorry about that, I was here to see my sister and she rushed out and Ellie started crying and when she does that, this happens,” You say looking down at your shirt. “And I thought I was alone and-and she was really hungry and I’m just sorry,” You quickly said your apologies, god this day couldn’t get any worse could it.

“No worries,” Homelander waved it off and put on his smile. “It’s natural right,” He nodded and pointed to the baby.

You visibly relaxed as he said that. He wasn’t angry with you, it would’ve been horrible if America's strongest supe was angry at you for a normal bodily function. But he did seem kinda uncomfortable you would say, his smile didn’t reach his eyes but it was better than his eyes being red.

Meanwhile Homelander felt his mind swarm with thoughts about you already and he just met you. He was about to say something but Ashely walked in the room with a shocked expression on her face.

“Sir I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Ashely breathed in deep as she had a somewhat scared expression on her face as she looked between Homelander and you. She was lucky that Homelander didn’t melt your face off as he saw you there and she let out a sigh of relief.

Homelander gave you a wary look and you took that note as you put Ellie in her stroller.

“Don’t worry Ashley we can meet up later,” You gave her a reassured smile. “Nice meeting you,” You gave Homelander a quick smile as you exited the room and felt your body relax that you were out of that awkward encounter.

Although Homelander had already set his eyes on you.

Later that night Homelander found out where you live through the tech department as he could get any one of those people to give him anything.

All day he had been thinking of you, his thoughts were all surrounding you and he tried to shake it off as attraction, which was definitely a part of it but he knew a part of it was due to your milk filled breast. He couldn’t help wanting to find you and just watch you.

As he stood on the building across from your tiny apartment, he used his x-ray vision to see what you were doing. It seemed like you didn’t have an exciting night but what he saw was certainly exciting. You were using a breast pump to get the milk out for the baby. The TV was playing but he didn’t pay attention as his cock throbbed his pants.

You looked pretty tired though, must be due to that baby and you were already dozing off catching yourself multiple times. His thoughts trailed off as he wondered what it would feel like to be doted on by you. If you would praise him and let him get a taste of what he actually wanted.

Homelander knew he was becoming infatuated with and some part inside of him was perfectly fine with that. He would find a way to see you again, even if he had to scare it out of Ashley or find out where you worked and “accidentally” bumped into you. It didn’t matter what he had to do, and what lengths he would reach to get to you.

He just couldn’t wait to see you again and wondered if you’d bring the baby, he hoped not but if so that would be totally fine as long as he got to see you.

Taking a deep breath as watched you and his body was filled with arousal and he knew you were already a part of his life for better or for worse. Probably a better for him and unfortunately worse for you.

[koolades-world]

Hello! I know Christmas is actually today/yesterday but if I could slip in one last request of Prompt 1 with Satan, I'd like to do so!

hi!!!! of course you can!!! so excited i got another request!

sorry for not doing this right away! i was working on a gift piece that had unexpected setbacks, and a zine piece that had the same setbacks lol. but, i got here eventually! i had so much fun writing this! my fav with one of my fav christmas activities. i am awful at wrapping presents, but i still love doing it

this is also after christmas but uhmmmmm shush ignore that lol

also! thank you for making a request :)))

prompt 1 w/ satan

While it had felt like you had so much time before Christmas, it was right around the corner now. While you had most of your presents ready for everyone, you hadn't wrapped anything yet. It was something you thought you enjoyed, because it was something you always looked forward to, but in the moment, you'd rather be doing anything else.

Satan was better than you, but that wasn't saying much, honestly. He was decent, but anything would look good next to your giant mess of tape and paper. When he invited you over to wrap presents together, you jumped on the opportunity. Maybe he might be able to give you some tips.

When you snuck into his room, arms full of presents for the rest of his brothers, Satan was ready with all the supplies you'd need.

"Hey, Mc." Satan set down the book he'd been leafing through.

"I was very careful coming here. I don't think anybody followed me." You set down everything with a dramatic huff.

"I'll lock the door, just in case." Satan got up to do just that. Despite his reputation, his brothers still had a nasty habit of barging into a room without knocking. This had led to many awkward situations, but they showed no sign of stopping. The lock might not stop them, but at least you'd get a brief warning.

"I don't know if you've seen presents wrapped by me before, but I'm not great at it." You picked through the stack, and selected a sealed box of demonus for Lucifer to start with. You figured the shape would be simple enough to start with.

"I have plenty of times. It's like you've forgotten about birthdays." Satan referenced his own birthday, which hadn't been all that long ago.

"Oh, yeah. Right." You muttered, scratching your head. While you tried to opt for a bag as much as possible, you enjoyed wrapping presents. Sometimes, you just couldn't help it, and everyone knew exactly which present was from you without checking tags.

You watched as he drew from his own pile of presents, and started with enough paper to cover the entire the present on both sides. You followed suit, but hesitated to cut the length of paper off. This was one of the many steps where something could go wrong. When Satan noticed your pause, he set down the tape he was holding.

"Do you need help?" He asked.

"Usually, I would say yes, but I know that even if I did say yes, something would still go wrong." It was hard to deny just how bad you were at present wrapping.

"Love, you know I'd still say yes, no matter what. If I can help, I will." Satan lent over, and showed you exactly how he did it, including all the tricks he used. It was heartwarming how he wanted to help even though you felt he was wasting his time. You were easily the Solomon of present wrapping, but under his careful guidance, you were able to get that one present wrapped semi-successfully. It was much better than it would've been on your own, but in the time it took you to do one, Satan probably could've done four.

It was a small win, but you took it. Satan grimaced one he saw you label the present for Lucifer, but celebrate with you anyways.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a saint?" You held the freshly wrapped present in your hands, admiring your work. You'd used significantly less tape than you usually would've, and it looked much closer to what Satan's handiwork would look like.

"No, dear. My name is Satan." He looked as if he was about to burst out laughing.

"Well, I'll be the first. You're a saint." You practically tackled him in a hug.

"You've been my first for many things, so it's only fitting you're the first to call me something so ridiculous." Despite the levity in his voice, you knew there was something to what he was saying. You began to pepper his face with kisses. "We still have so many presents to wrap." Satan mentioned the task at hand, but didn't protest to your affections. He basked in the attention.

"We have all afternoon." You mentioned that you'd set aside lots of time. Granted, this had been with the intention of giving yourself time, but you probably had at least ten minutes to spare.

"I'm not one to argue with logic." Despite the paper-thin reasoning, he gave in, because it was you. "If you really need it, I can wrap the rest of your presents for you." Satan gave you a kiss on the forehead.

"Sounds good. Now, put down the tape so I can hug you better!"