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arcanefox207 · 2 months ago

Text

The Golden Hour

QZ!Joel Miller x F!Reader | Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.1k WC | AO3

Summary: On a crisp, autumn morning in the Boston QZ, you wake up in Joel Miller's bed and indulge each other during the golden hour.

Warnings: Reader age undefined. Established relationship. Minor Somnophilia. Unprotected P in V, Oral, Face Riding, Fingering, Cum Eating. Not beta'd.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3

The Golden Hour

The morning sunlight was getting bolder, painting stripes on your body as it peeked through the derelict blinds. You were fast asleep. Safe in the arms of your protector on a crisp fall morning in the Boston QZ.

Joel’s arm draped heavy over your side and his body was curled into yours. Your spine flush with his soft belly. He had you held close and his heat was exceptionally soothing underneath the ratty comforter. He pulls you tighter and his bare body carves perfectly against yours, engulfing you in his embrace.

The bed creaks as he stirs behind you, pressing his semi-hard cock into the small of your back. He stretches to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder followed by another and another. Gentle but wanton as you slumber undisturbed. Your presence in his bed fills him with an eagerness to have you again.

You lightly bat your eyes open as you feel Joel tracing his fingers along the length of your body. His feather touch was gentle, as if he was trying not to wake you while he stole a secret moment with you. Mapping out the curves of your figure and committing it to memory. Tenderly brushing over your scars and bruises that the infected world branded onto you.

His arm curls over your hip and his hand finds the softness of your inner thigh, sliding it up higher and higher until he is at your center. You feel him pause briefly before he drags his fingers over your opening and gently grabs a hold of you. He can’t resist. The tiniest moan escapes your lips and he knows for certain you are awake. He places his mouth on your neckline for another kiss and whispers your name into your ear with the lowest growl.

You press back into him. His voice and his touch making you wet in your hazy, sleepy state. His mouth messily leaves marks on your neck as he nips at you. You can feel him stiffen more and his movements getting more needy.

He dips one of his fingers into your opening and curls it deep inside you, holding you even tighter against him while he lets you adjust to his presence. Having Joel inside you feels like home and you welcome him in, offering him the warmest comforts.

You let out a faint moan as he adds another finger. He uses the heel of his hand to put pressure on your clit as he pins you between his hand and his hardening cock. He drags his fingers in and out of you at a tortuously slow pace, making you clench onto him. His expert hand knows exactly what you need.

You are fully awake now and needy for his touch. Your body was still sore from last night but it didn’t make you want him any less. You couldn’t get enough of him.

“Mornin’, beautiful.” He whispers into your ear as he pulls his wet fingers from your slit, content with his teasing. He presses another kiss to the back of your shoulder and gently nudges you with his nose, breathing in your scent. His coarse whiskers prickle at your skin.

You roll over to face him. His hand glides over your side as you turn and he claws his hand over your ass, grabbing you lazily and kneading with his big paw. In one fluid motion he pulls your hips to meet against his and locks eyes with you.

It was astounding how such a violent man could be so docile in the right circumstance. His gentle energy could be felt all over you as his hands kept busy. He was content in enjoying the softness of your skin and the warmth you afforded him. It only fueled your desire to bring out his raw and unleashed side. The side of Joel that had become your vice.

He rolls onto his back with a groan, taking you along with him. You press your hands into his chest and look down on him. He looks pleased to have you sitting on him like a conqueror.

The sun catches his grays and it fills you with gratitude that his ruthless survival has rewarded him with aging. A beautiful mark of perseverance too few get to experience anymore. In this moment he makes you feel nostalgic for the way life was before the outbreak. You wonder how much of Joel is left from before. How much of him is real and how much was shaped by what he’s had to do. What he’s done for you.

He gazes up at you slyly, eyes half lidded. His mess of curls and unruly scruff makes him look so soft. Comically angelic in the glow from the sun. Not the capable killer you know he is. A handsome devil in disguise on this beautiful morning.

You lean forward and kiss him. Tasting him and it fills you with desire. Your tongues explore each other in a heated passion. His hands grab at you, one pinching at your nipple and the other sliding down your lower back. His fingertips dig into your spine as your roughness escalates. That inner fire had been ignited and was burning hot.

You break away from him and pull back to fill your lungs with a delicious breath of air. His chest rises heavily as he does the same. Perched atop him with your legs straddling him, he has a gentle hold on your hips and rubs circles with his thumbs. His resolve to be patient is unwavering.

His eyes are lustful and you need to have him. He was being so well behaved and restrained and it was turning you on more and more, knowing full well what lies beneath the surface. A conflict between wanting him to ravage you or to indulge in this rarity.

He lets you dictate what happens next but not without tempting you with his own desires. He wants you just as badly, and nudges you forward. Admiring how delicate you look in the golden, autumnal glow of morning.

“Let me have a taste of you?” He asks so politely while he pulls you towards him by your hips. You couldn’t say no to him if you wanted to, but you liked him asking so nicely. His innocent disguise was obvious but you let him think he is being cunning.

“Just a taste.” You accept with a sly grin.

You give into him willingly and he lifts you onto his face so you are straddling his head.

He nudges his nose up your slit and grazes your clit. The curve of his nose carved perfectly for the task at hand. You reach your arms out to brace yourself on the headboard and hover over him just barely putting any weight on him. You can already feel your body pulsing for him.

“Sit.” He growls at you and pulls you down onto his face, muffling his command.

You relinquish your body to him and let him lap at your folds and prod you with his tongue. He grips you firmly and pulls you into him. Your nerves electrify as he sucks at your clit and drinks in your wetness. His muffled moans of enjoyment sending vibrations through your body as he eats you out.

His masterful tongue works in tandem with his nose, making your feet curl and your head tip back. Your mouth gapes open as you breathe out his name in ecstasy.

Your hands scramble to grab onto his hair as he fucks you with his mouth. You can’t hold back any longer and your orgasm washes over you. He relentlessly drinks up every drop he pulls from you while you convulse on top of his face until your body stills.

He places a kiss on your sensitive bud before he gently guides your hip back down to his chest. He wipes your slick off his beard with the back of his hand with a subtle, wicked smile.

You catch your breath and feel your body still craving to have him inside you. Always hungry for more.

He gazes back up to you, clocking your needy eyes. He groans as he adjusts his leg and finally acknowledges how hard he is. You want nothing more than to take care of him now.

His cock comes alive as you slide further back and it falls heavy against his stomach. He was a sight to behold. A beauty you could never get enough of. You reach your hand between your legs and grab him at his base, running your thumb up the underside of his cock. He moans and his body writhes subtly underneath you. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

His eyes close and his mouth parts open just slightly. He relaxes his body and soaks in your touch. You trace his vein with your fingertips.

You stroke his length with more vigor and notch the swollen head at your opening, letting it gather your returning slickness.

With him being so docile you take the opportunity to use his body. You grind against the underside of his shaft. It twitches in your grasp, plump and seeping and soaked from your slick.

A throaty groan escapes his lips as he tips his head back. He digs into your sides harder as he swells. You take it slow, giving him a taste of his own medicine from when he woke you. Letting him feel your heat grinding against his.

You can’t wait any longer and need to have him fill you. You position him at your entrance and slowly take him inside you. Just the tip at first. Slow and disciplined. Your lazy morning energy is gaining traction with every inch. The momentum grows and your sensual moment with Joel escalates to a feral spiral.

He grabs onto your hips and pulls you closer to him, making you sink down all the way on his cock. You gasp at the stretch as he holds you there for a moment. Being filled to the brim with Joel so tightly you marvel at how effortlessly he makes himself at home inside you.

You watch him grit his teeth as he bucks up into you. With each thrust up he pulls your full weight down, making you scream his name as he pushes inside you deeper and deeper. Neither of you have a care in the world that you are waking up the whole apartment building. You suspect Joel takes pride in making you yell his name, letting everyone know that he has claimed you as your second orgasm surges.

Your walls clench around him each time he starts to pull out, begging him to stay. He snarls when he can feel your body gripping him so tight and when he can’t wait a moment longer he lifts you off him and pulls out. He grabs his cock and pumps it as he cums, loudly. His cum spurting up and landing on your belly and dripping down to your cunt. His thrusts into his hand slow as the final spurts of cum drip over his hand and his body stills.

You want him to finish inside you, but the risk is too great. Another unfortunate construct on this broken world void of pharmacies and medical practices. He would never put you in a dangerous situation if it could be avoided.

You take hold of the hand that was wrapped around his cock and bring it up to your lips. You look him in the eyes as you take his finger in your mouth and suck off his cum, slow and seductive. You wanted a taste too, after all.

Joel stares up at you in a fucked out haze as you lick his second finger clean too. He was haggard and spent but a final spark flickered in his eyes watching you consume him. He had told you often how pretty you looked with his cock in your mouth. You mimicked it with his fingers covered in his mess.

He cups his free hand on your jawline and pulls you down to kiss him, unphased by your obscene performance just prior.

You lay down next to him, this time facing the window. He rolls onto his side up against you, stickier and softer than before. His hand stroking up and down your side in a soothing gesture.

You end up just as you awoke. Wrapped up in Joel Miller’s arms with the golden sunlight, now a little higher in the sky, painting your bodies in shadows. The air smelling of sweat, sex and summer decay.

He presses a kiss on the top of your head and holds you tight. You drift off together, savoring the final moments of the golden hour as it ticks away.

Tagging my Loves / Mutuals / Joel girlies I hope will enjoy this 💛

@legendary-pink-dot @magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin

@redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40

@toxicanonymity @rifflovesjoey @pedrospatch @covetyou @alltheirdamn

@moonlitbirdie @tonysopranosrobe @pedropeach @jolapeno @djarinmuse

@mermaidgirl30 @schnarfer @mountainsandmayhem @mothandpidgeon @sin-djarin

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @guiltyasdave @perotovar @sawymredfox @sp00kymulderr

@cavillscurls @hellishjoel @strang3lov3 @aurorawritestoescape @pearlessance

@almostfoxglove @joelsdagger @littlemisspascal @lotusbxtch @burntheedges

Thank you so much for all the love. Comments/Reblogs are so appreciated. My inbox is always open and I want to hear from you! I like making new friends, I want to get to know you all and my super introverted self is putting myself out there 💛

Divider by @saradika-graphics and Banner by me

#Joel miller x reader #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x reader #Joel miller #Joel miller tlou #Joel miller fanfic #Joel hole #arcanefox fics #Pedro pascal fandom #ppcu #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #qz!joel #Joel smut

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eiightysixbaby · 1 year ago

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i love it loud

word count: 6.5k+

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you get invited to corroded coffin’s halloween party with your best friend chrissy. you don’t anticipate on having much fun, but that changes when you meet eddie…

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT. alcohol consumption, a rogue billy tries to hit on reader, use of petnames, use of y/n (like maybe a few times), oral (f receiving), fingering (f), unprotected p in v - he pulls out tho!, brief description of reader’s costume but no mention of body type/etc.

You didn’t want to go to this party. Not really. Your best friend had insisted you come with her, because arriving alone would, in her words, be social suicide. Being invited to Corroded Coffin’s Halloween party was a big deal, she’d said, even though you know she was only invited because she’s been going out with the drummer. Of course he’s going to invite his girlfriend.

You hadn’t even had a plan for a costume, and with only a couple day’s notice you didn’t have the time to prepare something good. The stores were all picked over as far as Halloween costumes go, and so you went with the most basic, half-assed option you could’ve possibly selected.

You’re dressed as a cat.

It feels silly, it feels low-effort and stupid and basic, but here you are with your fluffy tail and soft felt ears, black high heels and whiskers painted on your face. A pink nose to top it all off. You did think you looked good, you had to admit, but it definitely wasn’t the costume you would’ve preferred. You awkwardly adjust your stockings as you step up to the front door of the large house, feeling horrendously out of place.

You glance at Chrissy beside you, her hippie costume bright and colorful - an extreme contrast to your all black attire.

“Okay, just texted Gareth that we’re here,” she says, slipping her phone into her bag. “Don’t look so thrilled,” she says sarcastically, pouting at you.

“Sorry I’m not exactly excited to be at a party where I know no one,” you say.

“You know me and Gareth,” she replies, looking at you like she’s confused.

“I barely know Gareth. And don’t act like the two of you won’t be running off to bang the second you get a chance,” you smile at her, knocking shoulders playfully.

“Listen… his friend Eddie, the lead singer, is super hot. Maybe you’ll get more than you bargained for tonight.”

“I don’t know, Chris. There’s going to be a million girls at this party, do I really want to be another notch on some rockstar’s belt?” you ponder.

She doesn’t get the chance to respond before the front door is swinging open in front of you. The figure on the other side is… Peter Criss. More like, Gareth dressed as Peter Criss. Fully outfitted in leather and silver studs, hair spray painted black with white and black cat makeup on his face. You laugh a little as you take him in, and he shoots you a teasing glare.

“Hey ladies,” he greets, pulling Chrissy in for a quick kiss. “Y/N, I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“You know Chris always gets what she wants,” you reply with a laugh, and he laughs with you, agreeing.

He steps to the side, ushering you both into the large foyer of the house. It’s decked out in Halloween decor; bats on the walls, fake cobwebs, hairy toy spiders with light-up red eyes. There’s orange and purple string lights hung about, and you’re honestly impressed with the detail. The house is clean, aside from the stray cup or plate left behind from the current party guests, and the decorations are carefully placed.

“Holy shit, you guys really did it up for the party,” you say, eyes wandering to every corner.

“Oh yeah, that’s all Eddie. He loves Halloween. It was his idea for us to dress like KISS,” Gareth says with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t complain, you look so good in that outfit…” Chrissy says, trailing a finger down his chest.

“I’ll have to give you the official house tour,” he says to your friend. “You coming too?” he asks you, but you shake your head.

“Think I’ll get myself a drink,” you say, sticking out your thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

“Sounds good. There’s stuff on the counter and a bar out back by the pool, you can go wherever you’d like,” Gareth says with a smile, and it’s genuine. “Make yourself at home, say hey if you see the other guys around! You can’t miss ‘em, they’ll be dressed like me,” he adds, and you laugh, waving them off as Chrissy tells you to text her if you need anything at all.

You wander into the open kitchen, pleased with the selection of liquor that awaits you. If you’re going to be spending the night alone, you might as well get pleasantly drunk, you think to yourself. People are scattered throughout the room, talking with their circles of friends and acquaintances. There’s a couple different punch bowls filled with various concoctions, each one labeled with the contents. You take your pick of the poison, scooping the liquid up with a ladle and filling your cup.

You scrunch your face as you take the first sip, lips pursing as you adjust to the bite of the alcohol. You glance around the kitchen, taking note of even more decorations as you slink into a corner alone. They seem to fill the whole house, seeping into the living room and the dining room, any area that you can see. Gareth had said it was all Eddie’s doing, and you find yourself growing more curious about the man in question. You really didn’t know anything about Corroded Coffin, didn’t care much to do any research, you only knew what Chrissy told you.

You know that Grant, the rhythm guitarist, has rich parents, and that his dad bought the house for the band to live in while they’re recording their album. Chrissy always says Grant’s the nerdiest of the bunch, insanely smart and very friendly. You know that Jeff, the bassist, is apparently a sweetheart, a bit shy but would give you the shirt off of his back, and you know that Eddie…. well, you know that he’s supposedly “super hot”. Other than that, you’re drawing a blank. Chrissy hasn’t said much about him at all, now that you really consider it. Maybe he’s an introvert and doesn’t come around often, or maybe he’s a complete dick. He is a rockstar, after all. And there’s plenty of pretty women in his house right now, so… you can gather a few assumptions, to say the least.

You don’t get much more time to ponder the subject before you hear loud, raucous laughter coming in through the sliding doors to the backyard. Two figures stumble in, but in the dim light you can’t get a good look right away.

“I was made for lovin’ you baaaabyyyyyy!” a voice booms, and you don’t need more confirmation that it comes from another member of the band.

“How many times are you gonna sing that tonight?” the other voice counters, and you finally see two unfamiliar men walking towards the kitchen, dressed like other members of KISS.

The annoyed voice comes from the stand-in Gene Simmons of the evening, a frizzy black wig on his head and the signature makeup on his face, making him stand out. He sticks his tongue out obnoxiously at the other man, eliciting a laugh from him. Your eyes flit over, then, to the taller figure. Your attention is immediately grabbed — he’s intriguing right away and you aren’t quite sure why. Tall, slim, with a head of shaggy hair that diminishes his need for a wig for the costume. He’s dressed like Paul Stanley, a black star around his eye, surrounded by a face otherwise full of white makeup. He’s not wearing a shirt, at all, just a thick black studded collar around his neck and leather pants. Chunky heeled boots are on his feet, making him appear taller than just about everyone else in the room.

And if he’s dressed like the singer of KISS, then you can only assume this is Eddie. The singer of Corroded Coffin.

“Oh fuck off, Jeff. Have a little fun! It’s Hallo-fucking-ween, dude,” presumably-Eddie says, leaning into Jeff’s space.

“Sorry my idea of fun isn’t listening to your drunk ass sing KISS songs, Ed,” Jeff says, and the nickname gives you confirmation that this is, in fact, your guy.

Eddie just so happens to look up in that moment, his eyes falling upon yours unintentionally. He smiles at you, genuinely smiles at you, all while playfully rolling his eyes at Jeff’s comment. You giggle into your plastic cup, feeling like the two of you are the only people in the room for a moment. He gives you a teeny little wave, the slightest wiggle of his fingers, and you feel your heart rate increase as you return it. What is wrong with you? You were going to blame the alcohol, for the time being.

The moment is gone as soon as it came, Eddie’s attention getting redirected. You watch in fascination as they pour drinks for themselves, easily greeting the other partygoers who come up to them, eager to talk to the hosts. There’s a swarm of girls around Eddie in thirty seconds flat, and your heart deflates, much to your own dismay. Why should it bother you? He doesn’t even know you, and you don’t know him. Chrissy’s implication that you might hit it off with Eddie tonight is letting you get too in your own head, you decide, trying to shake it off.

You scoff, watching as a girl dressed like a devil leans on the counter into Eddie’s space, pressing her breasts together as much as she can. Her fake fangs are exposed as she laughs too loud at something he says, her bright red lipstick accentuating her mouth. You want to internally criticize her and her basic costume, before you’re reminded of your imitation of the most basic furry friend to ever grace Halloween.

As if on cue, someone comes up behind you and yanks on your tail, making you jump. Your drink sloshes over the rim of the cup at the sudden motion, splashing against the front of your outfit. You spin on your heel, met with the face of an unfamiliar man, which really isn’t saying much since almost every face here is unfamiliar.

“Can I help you?” you snark, flattening your lips in a straight line.

“Woah, calm down, pussy cat. Don’t have to bring the claws out,” the man says, smirking at you as if he has genuinely no clue why you’re bothered.

He reaches one arm out, flattening his palm against the wall behind you and leaning his weight on it, towering over you. He smells like cigarettes and booze, and you watch as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

“If you don’t mind,” you snap. “I really need to go wash the liquor out of my costume. Asshole,” you mutter the last part, ready to make your exit when the stranger grabs your arm.

“Going so soon? I thought we’d make friends,” he smiles at you, blue eyes piercing down at you as you grow wildly more uncomfortable.

“I’ll pass,” you emphasize, stomping the heel of your boot down onto his foot.

He yelps in pain, releasing your arm and allowing you to speed-walk out of the crowded kitchen. You can see various pairs of eyes on you as you scurry out, and you can hear your victim cursing you out through the bass coming through the stereo.

You high-tail it out the back door, heels clicking aggressively on pavement as you push through more people surrounding the pool. You finally stop to calm yourself down when you find a lull in the crowds, a spot where you can be relatively alone. You silently thank yourself that the stranger didn’t follow you, but what you didn’t realize is that someone else had.

You exhale, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a swig. Your now-wet top clings to your skin, aggravating you, but the last thing you want to do is wander back into the house in search of the bathroom.

“H-hey, um, are you alright?” a voice rings out directly behind you.

You jolt just slightly, not expecting company. Turning to face the other person, your eyes first land on those big, black platform boots. Eddie had followed you. Your gaze trails up his figure, leather pants and studded belt and bare torso, until you meet his eyes for the second time this evening.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw what happened in there and, uh, to be honest I don’t even know why we keep inviting Hargrove to these things—” Eddie rambles, as if Hargrove is a familiar name to you, as if he’s nervous to be around you — like he isn’t the star-studded host of this party.

“I’m okay,” you reply, cutting off his sentence, smirking a little. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I know these parties can get crazy, but… I always want to make sure everyone’s safe,” he says, his gaze softening as he says the last part. “I’m Eddie, by the way,” he introduces, holding out a hand for you to shake.

You immediately notice the big, silver rings adorning many of his fingers, your eyes lingering on them for maybe a second too long before you remember he’s waiting for you. You extend a hand, grasping his and shaking it.

“Y/N,” you reply. “I, uh, I’m here with Chrissy.”

“Oh, you’re Cunningham’s friend!?” he asks, lighting up at that. Excited as he says it as if you’re the celebrity here, not him.

You nod, smiling at him now.

“Damn, and she already ditched you to go screw Gareth, I’m assuming?” he jokes, and you laugh, feeling lighter by the second. Forgetting your less-than-pleasant encounter from moments ago.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” you say sarcastically, smiling wider when he snorts.

There’s a pause, you can feel him staring at you as you take another sip of alcohol. “Well, I’m a little offended she didn’t tell me that she had such a beautiful friend,” he says, and you feel your cheeks grow warm at his forwardness.

You duck your head, avoiding his eyes as your face scrunches in a shy smile. “Ah, there’s the rockstar charm,” you say, loving the sound of his laugh that comes in response.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he playfully asks, cocking his head as he leans forward to meet your gaze.

“How many other girls have you used that line on tonight?” you counter, playful but keeping a safe distance.

“Ouch, sweetheart. You really take me for that much of a player?” he stumbles back, clutching his chest as if he’s been wounded. Your eyes linger maybe too long on the tattoos littering his torso, the slight smattering of hair on his pale skin.

“Well, you are parading around your own party shirtless. Seems like a tool move to me,” you smirk, finishing off your drink with one last sip.

“Darling, you’re dressed like a cat. I don’t think you can come for my costume right now,” he flashes his perfect teeth at you, unable to contain his smile at your banter.

There’s a moment of silence, you staring out across the yard at the bright lights of the city down below, stretching vast and far. Then he speaks up again.

“I mean it. I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thank you. You’re very pretty,” you say honestly, letting yourself give in to his flirtations.

“Is it the makeup? Am I gonna have to wear this every time I see you now?”

You giggle. “Every time? Are there going to be more times, mister rockstar?”

“I mean, I’d love to take the time to get to know you outside of a party setting, if that’s okay with you,” he smiles bashfully, and you can only assume he’s blushing under all of that makeup.

“Yeah. I think that’s okay with me,” you reply.

Conversation flows easily with Eddie, the less-than- pleasant encounter with the stranger and the spilled alcohol on your shirt long forgotten. He tells you about his life before the band started to make it big, how he always dreamed of being a rockstar. He shyly told you about how he used to parade around his home as a kid, playing his little guitar and singing songs he made up until his uncle was begging him to quiet down and go to bed.

You confess that you really didn’t know much about the band, other than things Chrissy had told you, and you apologize although he tells you it’s absolutely not necessary.

You both end up sitting in the grass side-by-side, talking so much you don’t even remember making the choice to sit, it just happened. There’s a lull in the conversation, his eyes searching yours before glancing down to your lips. He moves just slightly closer, his breath hitting your face with each exhale. You feel yours catch in your throat, anticipating his next move.

You don’t get the chance to see what that move is before the girl in the devil costume from the kitchen approaches. She instantly has her hands on Eddie, grabbing his arm with a red-gloved hand and pulling him to stand. “Eddieeee, come on! You have to come play spin the bottle with us!” she pleads, her voice too whiny to not be part of an act.

“I- uh,” he stumbles, looking at you with an emotion you can’t place.

The girl moves to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his chest now, starting to push him backwards. “Come on, it’s no fun if you don’t play,” she continues, her shrill voice grating in your ears.

You don’t like how close she’s getting, how unafraid she is to be touchy with him. Who even is she? Are they friends? Are they more than friends? She’s pushing him further away from you by the second, not once acknowledging your presence. You scoff, looking to the side, avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

Before Eddie can really do anything, he’s being shoved fully away from you. You don’t see the way he desperately looks to you for an out, simply bothered by the fact that this girl won’t leave him alone.

You wonder if you were right, if he called you beautiful just like he calls every other girl beautiful. You didn’t want to believe it, but, he’s about to go play a game with a bunch of drunk people where the whole point is to kiss each other, so. It’s not looking great for you.

You’d be lying, though, if you said your curiosity wasn’t peaked. You find yourself bored watching partygoers splash around in the pool, and you can’t shove down your internal need to find out what mister rockstar and the devil girl are up to inside. Your feet are carrying you before you can decide against it, leading you back inside, back through the kitchen where you pour yourself another drink, and then to the living room where you find a large group sat in a circle.

You hang back, just slightly, not wanting to make it too obvious that you’re watching the game, even though you aren’t the only one who came to spectate. To be completely honest, the first few spins you witness aren’t very exciting. You don’t know any of these people, so what should it matter to you if they kiss? You’re about to step away when the circle erupts with various ‘Ooooh’s and whistles.

“Come on, Eddie! You gotta do it!” a now very drunk Jeff screams.

To your absolute horror, Eddie had spun the bottle, only for it to land on the little bitch whose name you still don’t know in the devil costume. Eddie looks at the girl, who is very clearly eagerly awaiting a kiss from the singer of Corroded Coffin, but then he looks up at you.

You didn’t think he’d realized you were there, didn’t think he saw you lurking, but he looked at you too pointedly for it to have been an accident.

You swallow, suddenly feeling awkward amongst the silence of the room. Everyone’s watching Eddie, expecting him to get his kiss over with and move on. He stands finally, stepping forward. You almost want to look away, not interested in watching him lock lips with someone that isn’t you. But you can’t look away, not when he bypasses the anonymous girl and heads right for you.

“Um, I’m right here!” she says, her tone snarky and honestly annoying enough to make you want to slap her.

“Yeah, well I’m not kissing you, Tina,” Eddie says. “Spin the bottle. What are we, fourteen?” he asks, eyes still locked on you as he stands merely a step away now.

Your heart thumps in your chest, every bit of your nervous system attuned to him. Your mouth hangs slightly open, not knowing what to do or what to say.

He steps even closer, closing the distance between you. “I want to kiss you, that okay?” he murmurs, letting one hand rest so gently on your waist.

You want to laugh in Tina’s face. You want to point and laugh and rub it in, but that wouldn’t be the appropriate response here. You need to kiss Eddie, sooner rather than later.

You just nod, a smile playing on your lips. He leans his face closer to yours, hovering by your ear to whisper, “I’m sorry, about her. She’s… a friend of a friend who always ends up at our parties. Trust me, I have no interest there.”

The reassurance really isn’t necessary, you barely know Eddie after all, but it’s extremely appreciated. You feel your heart flutter a little, smug and satisfied all in one. And then his lips are on yours, not giving a damn who’s watching, not a care in the world for what anyone might say.

His lips are soft, warm against yours and the way he cradles the back of your head in his hands makes you weak at the knees. Your noses brush before you pull away, and the two of you giggle in unison like you just shared some exciting secret with each other.

Tina is dumbfounded where she sits on the carpet, watching you. You swear steam would be coming out of her ears if this was a cartoon. You give her a little wave and an all-too-fake smile before Eddie grabs your hand to lead you away.

Not a single word is spoken as he pulls you out of the living room, you’re silent until you reach the stairs to go up to the second floor.

“So you really don’t have history with Tina?” you playfully ask, pressing the issue just to be a pain, and he groans.

“Ugh, god, no. Like I said, she always ends up at these things and she’s all over me. But the funny part is, we went to high school together. She bullied the crap outta me,” he explains, and you can’t help but laugh. “Spread some nasty rumors on social media…” he shakes his head, smirking at the thought now.

“Of course,” you roll your eyes, “Now where are you taking me, rockstar?” you grab his waist once you’ve reached the top of the stairs, pulling him closer to you.

“To my room, because there’s no way I can handle any more interruptions tonight,” he says, his hands finding your hips, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment.

Another kiss is ghosted over your lips, open-mouthed and teasing, leaving you chasing after him when he pulls away and starts to walk down the hallway. He opens the dark wood door, gesturing for you to enter first.

The second he’s inside with you, his mouth is on yours, your back pressed to the wall as his hands grip your waist. He fumbles with the light switch behind you, providing a dim glow throughout the room. He wastes no time slipping his tongue past your lips, licking inside of your mouth and groaning when your tongue meets his. Your noses brush and you’re sure his makeup is getting smeared on your face, or vice-versa, and the thought makes you smile into the kiss. His lips work their way down to your jaw, nipping and mouthing at the skin before residing on your neck, sucking till it stings.

You hiss, arching your back into him, hands grabbing at his bare shoulders as your nails dig into the skin.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, hands grabbing your face as he brings you in for another heated kiss.

He starts to walk backwards, guiding you with him towards his bed. His boots are kicked off of his feet carelessly, and you toe off your heels in tandem. He reaches the mattress, falling back onto it and scooting backwards until he’s fully on the bed. You follow his lead, straddling his lap and letting your hands roam his bare chest. He watches you like you’re an ethereal being, eyes big and round and completely full of desire. His hands wrap around to grab your ass beneath the fabric of your skirt, filling his open palms with the soft flesh and squeezing.

Your hands waste no time in finding their way to the zipper of his pants, tugging it down after undoing the button.

“Need these off, Ed,” you say, sounding more whiny than you’d wanted. Your face gets hot at the smirk he gives you in return.

“Oh, so we’re desperate now, huh?” he says, the cocky rockstar demeanor coming out in full-swing. It makes you embarrassingly flustered, your cunt throbbing for him.

All you can do is nod, your hand trailing over the bulge that waits for you beneath fabric.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, starting to shimmy his pants down his thighs.

You remove yourself from his lap, letting him undress — your mouth practically watering when his cock springs free and smacks against his stomach. He’s fully naked for you now, given that he already wasn’t wearing a shirt. All that’s left is the studded choker around his neck, and it makes you drool.

“Like what you see, baby?” he asks, a smug little grin on his face as he watches the way you take in his entire body.

You already noticed the tattoos on his chest and arms, but now you’re noticing the ones on his thighs. He’s unreal, so unfairly gorgeous and captivating. He’s perfectly sculpted, a sharp V carved into his pelvis that simply leads your eyes down a path to his perfect cock. It’s big — long and not too thick, veiny with a pink, leaking tip. He must catch your intrigued expression, because he laughs, a devious little sound that tells you he can’t have any pure intentions.

“Why don’t you lay down so I can get you ready to take this cock?” he purrs, slender fingers stroking up and down one side of your body.

You shudder at his touch, moving to lay down on his bed. You pull your shirt off before you do, leaving your black, lacy bra on display for the man beside you. Your tits rest perfectly in it, and Eddie’s sure to get an eyeful. His hands gently hold your hips once you’re situated comfortably, partially laying down with your back propped against his many fluffy pillows. He leans down, letting his lips graze over your jaw, your cheek, your nose, before finally pressing to your mouth. He brings one hand up, pulling your cat-ear headband off of your head, deciding it can’t be very comfortable to have on for hours at a time. It makes you breathe a little laugh into the kiss, remembering how silly you must look with your painted on whiskers and nose.

He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it, his mouth pulling off of yours and starting to travel down your neck. He kisses your shoulders, your collarbone, sucking on the most sensitive bits of skin and making you whine as you wriggle beneath him. He finds his way down to your breasts, hands sliding your bra straps down your shoulders as you arch your back for him, giving him room to unhook the clasp that sits at your spine. His lips immediately attach to one of your pert nipples, sucking and swirling his tongue around the small bud. One of his large hands cups your other breast, the cold silver of the rings on his fingers a sharp contrast to your searing skin.

He switches after a moment, sucking the opposite nipple into his warm, wet mouth. Something akin to a growl leaves his mouth when your fingers tangle in his hair and tug, and it spurs you on to keep going. His lips unlatch themselves from your breast, his mouth moving down down down, trailing kisses everywhere it goes. Your cunt throbs when his mouth approaches the waistband of your tight little skirt, his eager hands hooking beneath the fabric and beginning to yank it down, along with your underwear.

He peppers kisses lower and lower on your body, his mouth following close behind the clothes that he pulls off of you, covering every inch of skin as it’s exposed to him. He discards everything onto the floor, definitely tearing your stockings in the process of ripping them off of you. Your mind is a blur as he hastily attaches his lips to your clit, slipping one finger inside of you with complete ease. You weren’t expecting all of the stimulation so suddenly, your body writhing on the mattress as he sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth.

“More, Eddie, need more,” you pant, knowing you’re probably being greedy but knowing all the same that he won’t deny you what you want.

He hums against your cunt, immediately adding a second finger inside of you. He curls the digits, collecting your sticky wetness and groaning at the filthy noises that his movements make. Your hands tug harder on his hair as you throw your head back onto the pillows, cursing at how good he feels. Going in, you had no idea how tonight would play out, but you certainly didn’t expect to be hooking up with the frontman of Corroded Coffin. Your head spins at the thought of how many other people would probably die to be in your position right now, and it only makes you more turned on.

“Want one more, baby? Need to make sure you can take my fingers before you take my cock,” he purrs, smirking up at you.

“Yeah, please, I can take it,” you reassure him, and he slips a third finger in.

His fingers are thick, no doubt about it, and they stretch you so deliciously you feel like you could cry. The silk sheets beneath you feel cold against your skin, easing the heat that floods your entire body. You grip them with one hand, the other still in Eddie’s hair as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit in the perfect rhythm. He doesn’t dare change his pace, not with the way you’re moaning his name like a siren song, drawing him more and more into you.

You’re rapidly approaching your release, that much he knows, and he wants to send you free-falling over that edge. The way you suck his fingers right in practically makes him drool, he can’t get enough. Loud, shrill moans of his name leave your mouth as he curls his fingers into that perfect soft spot inside of you, and Eddie couldn’t care less if the whole damn house can hear you.

“Gonna cum, Eddie, ohmygod—” you’re cut off mid-sentence, the air stolen from your lungs as you come undone for him.

You squeeze around his fingers, soaking him as your body trembles. He pulls them out of you, slowly bringing them to his lips, making sure your eyes are on him. He sucks the digits clean of your juices, humming contently around them. You ache for him, your body desperate to have him even though it’s only been seconds since he’d been pleasuring you.

He moves to hover over you, reattaching his lips to yours in a heated kiss. It’s somehow gentle and rough at the same time, a weird but enticing juxtaposition. He tastes like you and it drives you crazy as your mouths clash together, all teeth and tongues.

“Fuck, baby, hold on. Let me get a condom,” Eddie says, nearly breathless as he pulls away.

“No— want you to fuck me raw,” you mewl, reaching out to stop him as he goes to stand.

“Baby…” he says, looking at you with uncertainty. He never goes without a condom, and certainly doesn’t want you to feel pressured to forgo one.

“Please, Eddie. Just pull out,” you plead with him, and you honestly can’t believe your nerve right now. Begging the famous rockstar you just met to fuck you raw, as if you have all of this power over him. What you don’t know is that Eddie already wants to give you anything you ask for.

“Okay, alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead before positioning himself on top of you.

He lines his cock up with your entrance, and you can feel the way you throb for him. You know you’re even more soaked than before, and you hardly worry about whether or not he’ll fit.

“You ready?” he asks sincerely. Big brown eyes searching yours for your approval.

“Mhm,” you hum, letting your eyes flutter closed when you feel him start to press in.

Moans leave each of your mouths in unison as he sinks inside inch by inch. Your nails dig in to the skin on his back, dragging down when he bottoms out inside of you. He hisses, breathing heavy as he tries to gain some composure. You feel so good around him, too good, and it takes all of his focus to not bust immediately.

“Please move, need you to move,” you whine, looking up at him with your big, pleading eyes.

He nods, “Okay, baby. Gonna give it to you so good, yeah?”

He starts thrusting, slowly at first, dragging his cock almost fully out of you before rutting back in. The air is forced from your lungs, your mouth open in a silent moan. His movements stay slow like that for a little while, giving you the friction you need but still teasing. Moans leave your lips as he slowly pushes himself all the way in, letting you fully feel the way he stretches your walls to fit him.

He starts to speed up then, setting a steady pace as he fucks into you harder. He does it so well, filling you to the brim and making you clench around him. You can feel every vein and ridge on his cock, the pleasure making your body erupt in goosebumps.

“Shit, feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” Eddie pants, his hips smacking against yours roughly. “Wanna try something different?” he asks, waiting for your approval which comes without hesitation.

He pulls out of you, making you wince slightly. He stands at the side of the bed, coaxing you to move towards him. You oblige, scooting right to the edge of the mattress. Strong hands grip your legs, hoisting your feet up onto his shoulders, exposing you perfectly to him. You feel more vulnerable like this, and it makes you antsy as you wait for him to slide back in. When he does, you see stars. The angle is perfect, his cock hitting spots it couldn’t before. You watch as he throws his head back, the muscles in his neck prominent as he clenches his jaw, a guttural groan escaping him.

“You’re so damn beautiful, so fucking gorgeous,” he says, looking back down at you with sincere eyes. “How’d I get the most perfect girl on the planet?”

And then he bends down, your legs still hooked over his shoulders, your body practically folded in half now. You nearly scream out his name, the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your skin filling the space. He leans down to kiss you, his lips and firm against yours, muffling your pretty noises. He pulls away, letting out a smug little chuckle at the way you instantly moan for him, noticing the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

“Gonna cry for me, baby? My cock feels so good you’re gonna cry about it?” he teases, watching your brow furrow in concentration as you get closer and closer to release.

“You’re very — fuck — very fucking modest,” you choke out, trying and failing to bite back your whimpers.

He laughs again, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “You know you fucking love it,” he murmurs, teeth biting at your earlobe before he pulls away. “I can tell you love it, cause you’re suckin’ me in like you were made for me.”

You let out a whine at his words, pinching your eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he continues to split you open. “Fuck, Eddie, don’t stop,” you plead, your body jolting with every harsh thrust he gives you.

He grunts as he fucks you faster, watching in awe as your tits bounce on your chest. He can feel how soaked you are for him, can see your cream pooling around the base of him when he sheathes himself fully inside.

“You gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?” he rasps, leaning down to kiss along your jawline.

All you can get out is a wobbly “Uh-huh,” nodding your head to the best of your ability. His fingers dig in to the meat of your thighs, a dull ache from his harsh grip barely noticeable in the back of your mind. One hand moves from its spot on your leg to reach down and play with your clit, the pad of his thumb rubbing quick circles over it.

Your back arches off the mattress, your legs shaking as you cry out his name. A few more deep thrusts and you’re plummeting over the edge for the second time tonight, your cunt tensing up around him over and over. The way your walls flutter around his cock brings him dangerously close to release, and he pulls his cock out quickly before he’s pumping it in his fist. All it takes is a few strokes before ropes of his cum are covering your body, splattering over your bare chest and stomach.

You let your legs drop from his shoulders, aching as you stretch them out. You feel like you’re made of rubber, limbs wobbly as your feet drop to the floor.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say, staring up at his ceiling as he chuckles at you from the side of the bed.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he says, shaking his head with a sweet little smile. He stretches, muscles flexing as he raises his arms to the ceiling, cocking an eyebrow at you when he catches you staring.

“Says you…” you reply, pulling the sheets up to hide your face, suddenly shy.

“Let me get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks, holding out his arm for you, pulling you up when you take his hand.

When you step out of the shower with him, after your body has been cleaned and every inch of your skin has been kissed by his soft mouth, he gives you his big clothes to put on. You change and brush your hair, letting his hands hold your waist as he tries to invade your space to kiss you even more. You can’t help but admire his face, even more gorgeous now that his Halloween makeup is washed down the drain.

You both shuffle out of the bedroom carefully afterwards, trying to gauge how much the party has died down, only to be met with a laugh from the opposite end of the hallway.

Your head shoots up, seeing Gareth and Chrissy stepping out of his room, looking wildly similar to you and Eddie; costumes off, makeup off, a few extra hickeys on Gareth’s neck. Chrissy’s mouth hangs open, her eyes flitting from you to Eddie and back again.

“I told you!!” she shouts, giggling before Gareth takes her hand, pulling her down the stairs with him.

You try to bite back a smile, heat creeping up to your face.

“What exactly did she tell you, sweetheart?” Eddie smirks down at you, pulling your body to his. His cocky expression gives you the hint that he already has an idea.

“Shut up, rockstar.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic

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amywritesthings · 2 months ago

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Pairing: march/farmer (fields of mistria) Word Count: 2.5k Summary: It's your first Halloween in Mistria, and you're excited for the costume party at the inn. One small problem: you accidentally match your costume with the worst possible person.

Tag: halloween, mild language, enemies to something, everyone ships you with march except march, friday night at the inn, unresolved romantic tension Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

HALLOWEEN AT THE INN.

Maybe the Kiki costume is too on the nose.

While you’re technically the new farmer of the town, tending your crops has recently begun to feel like a secondary job to the impromptu delivery service you’ve tripped into.

Not that you mind — if Hayden leaves a communal bulletin stating he needs an egg, then you’re more than happy to pop by and deliver.

(Though… doesn’t he technically own a ranch? Why would he need more eggs?)

Whatever.

Not your problem, just your solution.

Tonight marks your first-ever costume party at the inn.

While it’s been a town tradition for years, perhaps even decades, you find Hemlock stating that this year simply feels different.

Lighter, maybe. More exciting.

(Because the town needs a little excitement that isn’t privy towards an earthquake.)

You stand in front of your elongated mirror tucked against your bookshelves, tugging at the purple-blue skirt skimming your thighs.

It isn’t difficult to guess what you’re dressed as: between the massive bright bow wrapped around your head like a headband, the flats, the smock dress, and the stuffed black cat tucked under your arm, you should hope your friends know what you’re dressed as.

Kiki, the delivery service girl from the Studio Ghibli movie of similar title.

With one last huff of anxiety, you turn for the front door and trudge through your dilapidated (see: work in progress) farm to make your way towards the heart of town.

Josephine has already decked out the front with strings of paper bats and pumpkins lining the doors to the inn. The gentle glow of recently-carved pumpkins framing said doors with the bails of hay you donated to tonight’s event brings a nostalgic warmth to your heart.

You can’t remember the last time you went to a Halloween event, much less a costume party.

As your hand reaches for the door, you’re met with a sudden burst of wind.

The door flies open towards you, revealing a button-nosed Dell peering up from her perch. Whiskers streak her rosy cheeks, the black cat ears a stark contrast to her cropped blonde hair.

“You’re here!” she chirps excitedly, beaming up at you.

“Hey, Dell,” you greet politely, opening the door for her.

It appears the rascals of Mistria are following in tow — as they tend to do all over town in a troop — all equal parts dressed up as various animals.

Maple has a small painted bunny nose with tall ears in her hair.

In true Luc fashion, a spider body with fuzzy arms attached to his appendages. He doesn’t look the least bit comfortable, but he’s clearly excited to be an arachnid nonetheless.

“Are you Kiki this year?” Dell inquires.

Luc fixes his glasses with his many arms before perking up at your added props. “Whoa, and you have Jiji with you!”

Dell gets this look on her face, as if knowing something you don't know, but you think nothing of it at the time.

“Celine is back by the kitchen with Adaline and Orlic,” Maple suggests as if assuming you’re looking for the eldest sister.

Celine had been one of your first friends in town, so it’s no surprise to you that one would anticipate you would gravitate right towards them.

However, hearing Orlic’s name in the mix makes your stomach flip-flop, because—

. — —

Well, let’s get it out of the way early.

For the record, you love to spend your time at the blacksmith shop.

For the past month you’ve been hard at work in the mines, exploring the ins and outs of such a mysterious place, so naturally you’ve come to the shop to forge your tools and weapons.

And you’ve gotten good at offering a helping hand when it comes to blacksmithing.

Like, really good.

So good that Orlic has even set up a little spot for you to consolidate and work.

—only issue is that it’s right next to March’s bench.

March.

The bane of your existence, if you ever had one.

The naysayer that wants you gone from this damn town.

The only person in town who seems to have a big problem with you being here.

You wish you understood why — it isn’t like you did anything wrong to him.

You show up to the shop with an ever-revolving door of gifts from the mines.

Slowly but surely, you’ve learned what each brother likes. Olric is easy to please: he’s happy to take any stone you find, hoping one day to find a gem in the rough.

March, however…

He couldn’t care less that you show up after a long day’s work, dirtied and exhausted, holding out a piece of copper ore like a proverbial olive branch.

(Tch, he clicks with his tongue like clockwork, I could do better.)

Still, you persist.

Because deep down, you don’t think March actually hates you.

Orlic has said it time and time again — his brother can be tough to get used to, but that’s because he doesn’t have many friends. A loner at heart; March would rather sit in solace and march (no pun intended) to the beat of his own drum.

He likes you in his own way!

If it wasn’t for one of the first nights at the inn, then you wouldn’t believe it.

You distinctly remember walking in with Adeline after accomplishing a renovation of a bridge (to nowhere, you’d like to preface, but a job’s a job) when a voice jumped out from the fray of baseline chatter.

“Yo, farmer!”

Slurred, maybe, but after so much time at the blacksmith shop, you know it well.

However there’s little bite to March as he stands from his bar stool, face flushed with a flourishing pink as he sips from his mug.

He makes it a point to poke his head over his brother’s to see your face, and he…

Smiles.

Not in mockery.

Not in hatred.

A real, bonafide, drunk-as-a-skunk smile.

“Come here,” he hiccups, sloshing some beer as he tries to beckon you closer. “C’mere—”

You don’t think March remembers, but he talked to you.

For three hours straight, actually, about nothing in particular.

Your farm.

Your week.

Your future plans.

Chin dropped to his propped-up fist, his eyes are hazy, but he listens. Intently. Like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say.

At first it was jarring, especially since Orlic hopped up to give you his seat and never returned, but after twenty or so minutes it was… nice.

The next morning you were strangers.

Six straight days of snappy remarks, but without as much bite.

By the time Friday rolled around again, you found him in the same position — drinking, happily enjoying a communal game, while waving to you periodically to get your attention while you’re busy spending time discussing the week with Celine and Reina.

You want to ask Orlic.

Hell, you want to ask anyone to make sure you’re not imagining the once-a-week friendliness.

But you don’t.

You just endure six whole days until the next Friday rolls around.

. — —

As the kids shuffle out of the inn to get some air, you walk into the festively-decorated venue looking for a drink.

Reina had said something about themed finger-foods and drinks, both mocktail and cocktail, that she was beyond proud of.

There’s a circle near the tail end of the bar where Celine, Reina, Orlic, and Ryis all chat. Ryis has gone traditional cowboy, while Reina and Celine match in regency ball gowns, presumably a period-piece costume. Orlic is standing in an inflatable dinosaur costume, so you can only make out the visor of his eyes in the blow-up ensemble.

And when their eyes land on you, they stop talking completely.

At first it feels normal, albeit intimidating, but you wave and walk over anyway.

(Why has Ryis’ jaw dropped to the floor? And why is he excusing himself with a little laugh?)

“Hey, guys!” you greet as cheerily as you can, and Celine gives a look to Reina.

…huh.

The same kind of look Dell had on her face, like there’s something unspoken being passed around by your appearance.

“Oh — hello,” Celine replies in her musical voice, curtseying in character. “Lovely costume!”

“Yeah, it looks amazing on you,” Reina adds, but she keeps looking around.

You feel like there’s something you’re missing.

Staring down the cat and broomstick in your arms, you open your mouth to compliment them in return, but—

“So that’s why March didn’t want to match with me!”

Orlic pipes up, his dinosaur suit squishing and swishing around as he holds his arms out.

“I would have never guessed you’d plan a costume together,” pipes up Celine, shoulders deflating as if glad someone brought up the elephant in the room.

Except you can’t see said elephant — it’s still invisible.

“I… sorry,” you start, fixing your bow. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to be coy, Kiki,” Reina teases with a wave of her hand. “I think it’s cute!”

“But what’s cute?” you urge. “I feel like there’s something—”

“Hey, nerds, I got us the stupid punch. You could’ve told me the ladle was for baby hands. Took me like five minutes to make four drinks.”

At the sound of a gruff, annoyed voice, you turn—

Oh.

Oh, no.

March stares back at you through black-rimmed glasses with equal horror, sloshing one of the drinks he’s delicately balancing in his hands in a diamond.

His hair’s a little flatter than usual, but the fluff fights the frizz of the heated inn. On his body is a striped red and white t-shirt, along with some light blue denim jeans rolled up at the ankles.

The costume is just as distinct as yours.

Tombo.

“The hell are you wearing?” he blurts directly at you, and you hear a high-pitched giggle of excitement behind you come from Celine.

“I… a costume,” you lamely reply.

March scowls. “Yeah, genius, I know that it's a costume 'cus you never wear bows.”

“Yes, I do?”

“Not as big as that one!” he snaps. “They’re always smaller or, like… two, on either side of your— Whatever! But why that costume?”

“Thanks for the drinks, little bro!” Orlic happily states, waddling around you in order to gingerly pick up his punch. “We’re gonna go see how the mummy-wrapping game is going.”

March's eyes shoot wide in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” Reina adds, taking two drinks for her and Celine, before giving one back. “Actually, I’m totally hydrated. Our lovely Kiki might need a drink. You two have fun.”

“Huh?!”

March’s head whips side to side so fast that you expect the glasses to fly off of the bridge of his nose.

You stand with your plushie cat and broom, blindsided by the matching outfits.

Oh, god — it clicks.

They think the two of you secretly conspired together to do a couples costume.

That’s not good.

“Why’d everyone leave?” March grumbles. “It took a lot of damn effort not to spill those drinks.”

When you say nothing, he reluctantly returns his attention to you and holds out a drink.

“For the record, I planned to be Tombo before you even got to town, Farmer Girl.”

“I put together whatever I had in my suitcase,” you confess, taking the drink from his hand.

“Sure you didn’t sneak a peek of my costume hangin’ up when you were at the shop?” he accuses, squinting while he sips on his alcoholic punch.

“No, March,” you groan, dropping your head back. “Trust me, I don’t want to be matching with you, either.”

In true March fashion, he contradicts himself without missing a beat.

“Why the hell not?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, what’s so bad about matching me?”

“Because people will think—”

“So?”

“So?” you repeat, slightly higher pitched. “Uh, hello, it’s your worst nightmare?”

“Nah, dressing up as a t-rex is my worst nightmare,” he corrects, like everyone knows this vital piece of information about him. “Orlic was pretty hell bent on getting us to match this year, but I wasn’t sweating my ass off in a damn blow-up suit.”

“And accidentally matching with me is significantly less than that?”

March pauses, marinating on the words, before growing silent to sip more of his drink.

Exasperated, you throw your hands up and switch plushie Jiji from one arm to the other.

“Well, I’ll go home and change. Maybe I have a black shirt and jeans.”

Surely you have to have something basic in your arsenal, even if you were really excited for this costume. But the implication is rearing its ugly head into a territory you’re not sure you went to venture into.

Friendship with the one guy who hates your guts, or worse.

Yet his voice rumbles against the lip of his cup. “What’s a black shirt and pants combo gonna be for a costume?”

“I don’t know, a cat?”

“But Dell’s already a cat.”

“Then a raven! I don’t know.”

March snorts, shaking his head. He uses his free hand to push his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“That’s dumb. Just keep being Kiki.”

The huff out your mouth is laced with disbelief. “And what, have you be my Tombo?”

You don’t mean the words to come out as harshly as they do, but the options to rectify this awkward situation are limited.

It’s either he changes, you change, or—

Well, or you match with your sworn enemy of the town.

Both of you stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the rest of the party rage on.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak.

A few people greet the two of you, but beyond your initial friend group, no one else seems surprised to see the two of you in a common duo costume.

“I like your bow, by the way.”

The words are so quiet that you almost think you caught wind of a ghost.

Turning your head, the sight before you is one you’ve grown accustomed to: March’s cheeks are flushed, sprinkled with an embarrassed pink.

He side-eyes you, studying the bow before flickering his attention to your face.

You sip your drink, trying your best to look neutral.

“I… think you look nice with glasses.”

That pink turns into crimson, and he buries his head into his chest like he wants to curl into himself to hide the fact that your compliment affects him so deeply.

“...thanks.”

With a curt nod, you bring the cup back to your lips, only to realize it’s only left with ice.

Huh. You didn’t think you drank it all down.

In your peripheral you see it, but it doesn’t register until something warm lands on your hand —

March’s fingers overlap yours, gently nudging the cup out of your grip and into his.

“You're empty,” he mumbles. “I’ll get you some more.”

Before you can protest, he turns on a heel and rushes back to the punch cauldron. The blush goes so far as to creep up the nape of his neck and into his dyed-red hair.

You watch him disappear, your stomach flip-flopping with anxiety and…

Butterflies?

Weird. That’s new.

(But that’s how it goes on Friday night at the inn.)

author's note:

I wrote this in about an hour because I have been dying to try my hand at an FoM fic, and since I'm in a very Halloween-y mood, I figured I could write a little cute heart event for March!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! What other costumes do you think March would be cute in? Let me know in the comments! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, etc.)

#fields of mistria fanfiction #fields of mistria fanfic #march x reader #march x farmer #march fom #fom fanfiction #fom fanfic #fom fic #march fanfic #march fic #fields of mistria fic #halloween fanfiction #halloween fanfic #fields of mistria #fom march

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up.

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?"

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

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

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son.

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead.

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller.

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space.

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games.

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked.

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it.

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed.

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat.

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early.

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

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

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts.

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him.

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool.

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs.

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears.

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too."

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

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

Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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spencahreadreid · 25 days ago

Text

Wasteland baby! I'm in love, I'm in love with you.

3.0K words, purely fluffy and innocent, mentions Halloween, no Y/N, no gender specifics! If you have requests, please send them!

"That's not how it goes!" Spencer's voice calls from the kitchen, you were in the living room, setting up the fake spider webs for tonight's Halloween party. The Alexa you'd recently brought (which terrifies Spencer) is playing whatever the Amazon AI thinks are "Spooky songs", and you'd been shouting all the wrong lyrics. Loud and proud.

"What?! I can't hear youuu!" The sing-song tone in your voice made him laugh, the kind of airy chuckle that faded in through the doorway, to your ears. The living room was mostly empty, having cleared out most of Spencers books from the shelves and replaced them with fake bats, spiders, plastic severed arms.

He didn't mind it, he loved Halloween himself, but it's not until he met you that he started going all out. His apartment now looked like the local decor store around October time, and you both absolutely love when you get to go 'crazy'.

The cobwebs were now fully hung up around the ceiling, at first you'd begged Spencer to do it, he's taller after all. That's when he'd suggested he start on the cooking instead, not three nights ago, you'd set fire to a pancake. You blamed it on Spencer of course, he was insane for coming and kissing you (being a pure distraction) while you were trying to make breakfast.

With most of the decorations put up, you decided to sneak into the kitchen, behind your boyfriend and scare him somehow. Creeping in through the doorway, you used the music as a coverup for your footsteps, walking along to the beat so it sounded like some kind of special effect.

Arms out, ready to pounce on the innocent man by the oven, who was putting on your oven mitts. Before you could even say or do anything, the doorbell rang, which made Spencer turn, and there you were. Standing there with your hands above your head, scrunched up facial expression, solely to add to the scare. It had failed.

"Honey, what are you doing...?" He looked genuinely confused, tilting his head. You'd quickly relaxed your face and placed your arms back by your sides with a sheepish smile. The two of you awkwardly stood there, Spencer looking extremely confused, until you found a cause to leave.

"Uh... I'm gonna go get the door" without another word, you were gone. Straight through the living room, down the hall and into the porch. The screen door was translucent, and through it, you could see a small blonde woman. Immediately smiling, you swung the glass frame open with an eagerness.

"PEN!! How are you?!" Welcoming her with open arms, you were careful not to smudge the black, painted whiskers on her face. She smiled back, you didn't work at the BAU, but you'd met Penelope before. Apparently Spencer had gotten teased at work by her continuously until you found out and gave her a joking telling off.

"Where's boy-genius? I have presents!" She squeaked, handing you a small pink gift bag.

You thanked her and led her to the kitchen, where Spencer was placing the food onto a tray, so the others could help themselves later. His lips curved up as soon as he saw you, walking over and letting his lips press to your forehead, then your cheek, tip of your nose, and your lips. Yes, he greeted his co-worker, but you were more important at this moment. Penelope had already started giggling, and as she was about to take her phone out for a picture, you both pulled away from the kiss.

"You two are adorable!" She still tried taking a slip, but it wasn't as blackmail worthy now your lips had come out of contact.. to your dismay. The slight pouting from you had Spencer laughing, then followed Penelope's, soon enough your own.

"It's okay, precious.." His hand coming to your chin, cupping it softly, you stared up at him. Your eyes were wide, his eyes were just as soft and affectionate.

'CLICK '

Both your heads snapped to Penelope, her phone held up infront of her face, she'd clearly already taken the picture.

"Garcia!" Spencer called to her as he realised what she'd done, but all she responded with, in her usual cheery voice was:

"You can hang it up on your wedding day!"

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid drabble #dr reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff

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papirussian · 3 days ago

Text

I'm working on the script for the direction the comic will take (I apologize in advance, it's not grammatically correct cuz it's quick notes:

Story: the classic bros host a Halloween party at their house

Sans and pap talk to each other, sans asks "ya think this is a good idea? The Christmas party didn't seem to spark too much "joy" for everyone.." paps replies "nonsense, brother! This party will surely "lift everyone's spirits!" NYEH HEH HEH!" Sans replies "heh, if ya say so bro"

Dialogue about Xmas party and now the Halloween party, people saying "how ya doing?" And happy to see each other again

Some characters meet themselves for the first time and may or may not have a conflict (fells and horrors)

Fells see the horrors and have a bad feeling about them, but the horrors reassure them they wouldn't think of harming anyone there. Well, horror pap won't harm anyone, axe might?? Horror sans makes edge and fell very nervous and suspicious

Spooky Food, Halloween music, games (pin the knife*horns on the human-skeleton-*as..gore..?), truth or drink (bloody apple juice- it's totally not spiked), spooky movies

Reaper brought Geno with him, Geno has a special charm from Reaper's Tori so he doesn't die, classic asks Geno "I don't mean "Tibia" negative, but uh.. how are you not dead, Geno??" Geno replies "well, uhh" Insert flashback of Reaper telling Geno about the invite, Geno objecting cuz he'll die if he leaves the save screen/ void, reaper gets a charm from Tori and gives it to Geno, Geno is scared but trusts Reaper, they both hold hands by holding a short rope without touching each other so reaper can teleport them to the party, Geno is in shock and Reaper laughs, cut back to present, Geno says it's a long story

Reaper's costume: he made his hood have cat ears and a tail, cat slippers, whiskers drawn on his face?

Geno's costume: dialogue between Geno and fell pap, Geno was scared he would die if he left the save screen so he didn't dress up, fell brought a spare costume that he was originally gonna give to edge, but he refused to wear it (yet he voluntarily wore that wearwolf costume??) so now he's giving it to Geno (it's a leather jacket and pants similar to fells outfit), fell says it's okay if he doesn't want flames, he already looks super cool just like that, Geno starts tearing up and hugs fell pap, fell is confused but awkwardly pats Geno's back to comfort him

Swap sans is seen at the food table humming the TMNT theme, classic walks in and is surprised and says "hey swap, you're not gonna spike anything again are ya?.." swap replies "whatever do you mean classic me? I'm simply seeing which of these beautiful treats I'm gonna eat!" Classic replies "mmmm, ok... *I'm gonna keep an eye on you though* swap "what was that?" Classic "what was what? Must've been the wind" and he walks out. Swap waits for him to leave, then smirks like the Grinch and pulls out a bottle of whiskey from his shell and pours it in the bloody apple juice

Swap pap is drinking some bloody apple cider on the couch and is watching a spooky movie, sitting next to him is classic gaster who is still wearing Xmas clothes, swap pap says to him "...uh.. you DO know this is a Halloween party.. yes?" Gaster replies "oh! I was wondering why everything looked all spooky, sometimes I get my holidays mixed up. Being in the void for so long can really... Make a person go crazy..." He snaps his fingers and his Xmas clothes change to an inflatable among us costume, swap paps eyes go wide and he just stares in silence at him, then looks back to the TV and keeps drinking his juice... Zoom out to both of them, gaster says a random line from "Elf" and the panel is cut off after swap pap stares at gaster then at his drink

Classic pap asks classic sans if he's seen the bat decorations, sans wanders up to his bedroom to look for them, he opens the door and turns to his bed to see sci and fell sitting next to each other sweating as if they're guilty of something. Sans stares at them with a concerned expression and says "are you two-" they reply "NO" and classic blinks twice and slowly leaves the room. Sci and edge pause, then sci puts his hands over his face and starts rambling "I CAN'T BELIEVE HE ALMOST SAW- WHAT AM I DOING, HE TOLD ME NOT TO DO THIS- AND HERE I AM DOING IT!!??" edge tells him to calm down and puts his hand on his shoulder "hey hey, sh sh, it's okay, you don't need to worry about him. He's just jealous cuz he wasn't invited to play." Sci "*sigh* yeah.. I guess .. but what if he thought we were doin.. something else?? And in his room??" Edge "psh what would he know? It's our room too, technically, he knows we wouldn't do anything weird to it (a panel where they both turn towards the camera and smirk). Now let's keep playing uno, I've almost beat you" they both turn around and continue their card game, cuz that's what they were doing

Classic sans wanders to the kitchen where horror sans, Geno, reaper, classic pap, and fell pap are "you look like you've seen a 'ghost'" classic responds "I don't wanna talk about it..", Geno asks horror sans "so anyway, how did.. uh.. how'd ya get a chunk of ya skull taken out, axe..? It's okay if ya don't wanna answer." Axe is silent for a moment and replies "that's.. kinda personal.." Geno "that's totally fine, I understand-" fell interjects "Preposterous! Your injury intrigues many of us here, why would you not wanna share the story?" Geno "paps! You can't just say that!" Axe is silent and glares at fell, horror pap walks in lured in by the shouting, he overhears and taps fell pap on the shoulder, startling the shorter skeleton "Can I speak to You for a Moment fellow me?" Fell replies "um.. yes..", they walk out

Geno apologizes to axe, axe just shrugs, classic pap speaks to him "well, I would just like to say that you still look awesome, tall spooky brother" axe chuckles and says "thanks Pap", reaper wanders over to classic sans at the drinks section "whatcha up to sans?" Sans replies "oh, uh, just tryna figure out which of the drinks swap might've tried to spike.." reaper smirks "you're not gonna drink yourself to "death" like Geno did at the Christmas party, are you?" Classic "mmm, thinkin about it.." reaper "now why would you wanna do that?" Classic "I've... Seen some things today..." Reaper "oh? It couldn't have been a misunderstanding, could it?" Classic "I- I don't know, I'm not even sure if I wanna find out? I'm not even sure what I saw.." reaper disappeared and sans is confused "reaper? Death?? *Sigh* that guy.."

Horror pap takes fell pap outside to talk to him about horror sans, fell "was going outside really necessary..?" Horror pap "I just didn't want anyone or my brother to hear. You see, he's gone through a lot in our timeline. He's had to sacrifice nearly everything just to keep everyone as sane as they can be. He got his injuries from queen Undyne-"

Fell "UNDYNE'S THE FUCKING QUEEN IN YOUR WORLD?!" Horror pap "Lower your voice please edgy me, yes, she is. She and Alphys devised a plan to power up the core again by using my brother's eye as a power source. It's an incredibly strong power of his. She took it from him, she tried to kill him to save the underground. Everyone was desperate for food and with the core powered down, we were all starving. Monsters were going insane. It changed my brother. I don't know if the old him will be back, I don't know if ANY of our old selves will be back. But we've made do with what we have." Fell "... I'm... Ssorry about what happened to your world... And for how rude it was for me to ask such a question.. I didn't realize.." Horror pap "it's alright, now you have a better understanding of what happened. I understand if you're still uneasy about us." Fell "well, Ill always feel uneasy about whoever I meet, but I won't let that stop me from trying to.. be.. f r I e n d s with you two." Horror pap "Excellent news! I'm glad to have made friends with you, fell! I'm sure my brother will be excited as well!" Fell chuckles and they both head back inside

Swap opens classic sans's bedroom door to find edge and sci playing uno, WITHOUT HIM! "AH HA! THERE YOU TWO ARE! I'VE BWEN SEARCHING FOR YOU FOR AN HOUR!" fell and sci look surprised "oh hey blue! We were playing uno" swap "BY YOURSELVES? IN A BEDROOM?? HMMM THAT'S TOTALLY PLAUSIBLE!" Edge "tch ya made me lose!" Swap rushes towards them and grabs their hands and pulls them downstairs to get in a circle with the others. Everyone's playing truth or drink.

At some point, Error, ink, and fresh will pop into the comic, I haven't planned that out yet

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anxious-lee · 10 months ago

Text

Ask || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: what can I say? they inspire me. you know what else inspires me? the agonizing lack of content there is for them 💀

Ship: Huskerdust

No beta, we die for our craft

Word count: 1,720

------

One wouldn't typically think of obnoxious behavior as out of character for Angel Dust, but this was a tad excessive. In a way that spells out exactly what he wants, if you know what to look for.

Angel had a very particular set of needs, some being more overt than others, but one facet of his desire was not known to many. Ironically, his incessant jabber of licking holes and getting punished weren't nearly as vulnerable as this information was. He never told his nightly flings, he never told Valentino, and he rarely became close enough to anyone to be able to share.

Angel Dust, the world-renowned porn star, loved to be tickled.

Now, some might say this could very easily fit into his menagerie of BDSM kinks. But that's what was so humiliating. It wasn't a kink. It wasn't sexy. It was romantic. Even downright fond.

His need would be fulfilled from time to time as partners or clients sought playfulness, but he wouldn't bring up his appreciation of it. Merely went along with and pretended to hate it. How far that was from the truth.

The obvious downside to this, of course, is that no one is available to satisfy your lee moods. Like today, for example.

The minute Angel woke up, he knew today was going to be one of those days.

The thoughts were driving him mad. He needed someone to hold him and touch him and take away his control in a way that had nothing to do with pain or power. It was about trust and love and sharing and fucking christ, does he sound like a hippie.

The thought of telling Husk did cross his mind, seeing as how they were now a month into their relationship, but he quickly banished it to where all the other scary thoughts go. Surely, he would laugh at him or look at him with disgust.

He couldn't risk it this time.

Not with Husk.

Not with him.

Fortunately, there was an option B. You see, he already loved to get on people's nerves, and that happened to be the most successful way to get tickled. As retribution.

The hotel guests, of course, didn't pick up on Angel's different behavior. They merely gave him a smirk or an eye-roll, but nothing more. Except, of course, Husk.

----

Angel sauntered over to the bar counter where his pussycat was busy at work polishing bottles.

"Mornin', Whiskers. Did ya dream of me?" Angel said, batting his eyelashes.

Husk chuckled. "Yeah, I did. It was the noisiest dream of my afterlife."

Angel gasped in mock offense and pouted. "I thought you liked our little chats!"

"I do when I'm not working. Just sit tight until I'm on my break, we can go cuddle as much as you want then, okay?"

"But that's sooo long from now!"

Returning to his bottles, Husk half-turned away from Angel, who was growing antsy.

He waited a couple of moments, then very swiftly poked his bartender in the arm.

"Baby, I can't talk right now, I'm busy."

Another poke.

"Fuck, can't you wait 5 minutes?" Husk sighed with a hint of annoyance.

It seemed to be working. One more push should send him over the edge.

Angel plucked the rag out of Husk's paw and held it out of his reach.

Husk finally turned to face his boyfriend.

Was this it? Was he gonna snap and tickle him senseless for pestering him?

The cat leaned forward, grabbed the rag, and went back to his task after giving Angel a tired glare.

It was obvious to the spider that his lover wouldn't bite. Defeated, he left the bar to find something else to distract himself with.

----

It was a few hours later when Angel found himself cuddled up next to Husk watching a movie. It was some crime boss flick, something-or-other. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't paying much attention to it. The incessant thoughts of laughter and smiles spun 'round his head, keeping his focus off of the gunfight happening on-screen.

On impulse, Angel started playing with Husk's ears, plucking and pulling and flicking in any way he could to get a rise out of him.

"What the- stop! I'm trying to watch." The cat said.

"I ain't doing nothing~"

Next, Angel gave a teensy little push to Husk's tophat, just enough to put it off-center.

"If you're that bored, why'd you pick this movie?" Was the reply.

"Who said I was bored? I'm very entertained," Angel said.

And finally, he twirled his finger around the tail beside him like a spaghetti noodle and gave it a tug.

That seemed to do the trick. Husk's face whipped to meet Angel's.

"What is going on with you? You've been pressing my buttons all day. What's the matter? You feeling friskier than normal or somethin'?" Husk was confused, and annoyed certainly, but more than anything, curious. This wasn't typical Angel Dust behavior. This was a cry for help. In regards to what, he had no idea.

Angel certainly wasn't giving him any help. "I don't know what you're talking about," he quipped with a smile tugging at his lips.

Husk watched him for a moment, then seemingly gave up and returned to cuddling in front of the movie.

It only frustrated Angel more. What was with this guy?! It didn't normally take THIS much effort to instigate a good tickle fight! And the cuddling made everything worse. Like waving a bone in front of a dog. He was given just enough touch to drive him crazy but not enough to satisfy his hunger.

----

Several days had gone by, and Angel's lee mood persisted, and Husk still wasn't taking the bait. The spider began to wonder if he would ever get tickled again at this rate.

One night, the two sinners were sitting in bed together, being on their phones or reading. It was quiet nights in with each other like these that they treasured more than anything.

Angel had lost almost all hope of actually getting tickled. No matter what he tried to get Husk's goat, nothing worked. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

Husk was so enraptured by the book in front of him that he didn't notice the mischievous look creeping onto his boyfriend's face.

Angel snatched the book out from Husk's nose and dangled it in front of him. "Why would you want to look at some ol' book when you could be looking at meee~?"

Husk gave the usual huff and eye-roll.

Angel waited for a moment, then set the book aside in order to sprawl across Husk's lap with his hands supporting his head.

"What's the matter, Whiskers?" He emphasized the provoking nickname. "Am I botherin' ya?"

Angel pursed his lips and gave the kitty's nose a boop.

For a moment, it was silent as Husk looked down at his lover in what looked to be...

An epiphany.

Then came the chuckle.

"You know, if you wanted it so bad, you coulda just asked," Husk sultry said.

What?

What did that-

Angel didn't have time to finish the thought before Husk's claws were dancing nimbly on his sides. He squealed in startlement, and the giggles came flowing out. As much as his body wanted to worm and wriggle away from the touch, his heart was exactly where it wanted to be. Where he needed to be. But what Husk had said-

"Whahat does thahahat mehehean?!" The spider queried.

"Don't act like you haven't been trying to provoke me into ticklin' you this whole time. Honestly, it all seems kinda obvious now," Husk laughed, "Can't believe I didn't piece it together sooner."

Wait, he knew?!

Abort, abort, abort!

"I dohont know whahahat you're tahahalking abohohout!"

"Relax, I ain't judging," Husk assured warmly, "I've heard of far stranger things than a pesky little brat who wants to relinquish control every now and then. 'Sides, I can't say it's not adorable." His voice took on a more teasing tone at that last statement.

And Angel noticed it.

His face began burning hellfire red as the claws at his sides still scribbled furiously, and his giggles now elevated to laughter.

"Ihihit's NOHOHOT!" Angel cried indignantly.

"Uh huh. And what do you call this?" Husk darted his hands up to the spider's neck and scritched and scratched into every nook and cranny he could reach.

Glass could shatter at the pitch Angel shrieked. His chortles returned to snickers and giggles as he tried to invert his head into his body like a turtle. What's more, he even began to 'tee-hee'. Like a coquettish little school girl. How humiliating.

"Seems pretty cute to me~," Husk cooed with a saccharine smile.

Angel couldn't tell if he loved it or hated it.

"I've never seen this smile on you before! Maybe I should tickle you all the time."

Definitely loved it.

Husk ran his claws down from his neck to his shoulders all the way down to his underarms.

The spider's arms snapped with the strength of a bear trap. He screeched with all his might and began to cackle. This was the most pleasant hell he's ever been in! His face-splitting grin wasn't just from all the laughing. He hoped Husk knew that.

The cat in question jumped at the loud noise. "Woah! Didn't realize this was a bad spot. You okay down there?" His fingers slowing for a second.

Angel could not nod fast enough.

Husk could feel his icy heart melting. Christ, the things this boy did to him. He'd keep this up all night if it kept Angel happy and free and forgetful of his troubles.

"Alright, just let me know when you've had enough," and with that, Husk tickled his pits harder than he did before, "But next time, just ask for this instead of purposely getting on my nerves. I'd rather just give you the love without the headache, okay baby?"

And he did.

It wasn't easy for Angel, but part of this new dynamic was learning to trust each other, hoping that the other would catch them when they fell. Every moment they spent together proved that they would.

But for now, all that was left was Angel's blissful laughter, Husk's light-hearted teases, and five nosy tennants listening in from beyond the door.

-------

The more tickle scenes I write, the harder it is to think of new things to say lol 😅

Thank you all so much for the kind feedback, you guys are why I write ❤️

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #lee talks #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickles #ler!husk #lee!angeldust #huskerdust tickles

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adnauseum11 · 9 months ago

Text

Troops in Contact (John Price x Reader)

John gives you a warm welcome to your new home.

1.2 k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex

It's a stat holiday here so perfect time for some mid-day smut

feedback welcome!

John leaves a trail of clothing in the hallway, pushing and pulling you where he wants you. You know on some level John is strong, but he rarely turns it in your direction. So, when you take a half a second too long to shimmy out of your jeans he twists, slinging an arm under your thighs and physically tosses you into bed. You squeak in surprise, flinging your arms out in the sheets to steady yourself.

He’s gripping the sides of your jeans and tugging them off you before you bounce a second time on the mattress. He repeats the same motion with your underwear, his fingers dragging over your exposed skin. You can’t help your breathless laugh, watching him kick his own undone pants and briefs off at the end of the bed.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

You tease gently as he crawls up your body, pressing open mouth kisses over your skin, his whiskers dragging softly and making you shiver. His tone is earnest when he replies, too focused on the task at hand to attempt to temper his response.

“You, love. Can’t believe my good luck, you’re going to be here every night.”

His lips close around your nipple, swirling his hot, wet tongue before sucking. You gasp and run your fingers through his hair, pressing your fingertips into his scalp and making him groan against your skin. He lifts and murmurs against you, voice low with desire, making goosebumps break out.

“And every morning.”

He switches to your other nipple, repeating the gesture and making your abdomen clench with want. You can feel yourself getting wetter, his dark voice against your body making your insides liquify.

“It’s what you wanted, right?”

You whisper, your back arching as he rasps his teeth over your nipple. The dark hairs of his chest rub against your delicate skin as he moves, making your insides flutter and your nails bite into his shoulder and scalp. He hums his approval, nudging your thighs wider to settle himself between them.

“God, you’ve no idea, love.”

Affection and desire are at odds in John’s tone, a low rumble you feel as much as hear. He leans over you to get a condom from his bedside table, and you take his momentary distraction to wrap your palm around him again, stroking him lazily. He hisses a curse into your ear and his cock jumps in your hand, seeking out the friction.

“I want you inside me.”

You purr, rubbing your thumb around the head of his cock. John groans and doesn’t answer, batting your hand out of the way to roll the condom on. He grips himself and guides himself into you without any preamble, making you both hiss. Your legs wrap around his hips tightly, your nails biting into him again. He rocks experimentally making you whine softly before he sets a steady rhythm.

He braces himself on one palm, sliding his free hand up from your breast to your throat, holding you down lightly while he rocks into you. It makes you clench around him with a moan, your fingers raking down his shoulder to grip his forearm.

John leans over you and kisses you, the rasp of his tongue a counterpoint to the drag of his cock. You can feel the tightening of your muscles all over, trying subconsciously to hold onto him. He’s feeding sensation into you with each thrust and pass of his tongue, each layer building to your orgasm. You slip an arm around his neck, forcing him to drop down onto his elbow as you tug him closer. The angle changes, making you moan low in your throat and press your heels into his ass.

He breaks your kiss with a groan, panting against your skin, your fingers working their way into his hair again. His pubic bone grinds against your clit as he ruts into you, making your knees clamp down on his sides and your inner muscles bear down on his cock. The wet sounds of skin pressing together, mixed with the creaks from the bed from John’s shifting weight only turn you on more, making you wetter.

“Fuckin hell, love, you feel so good.”

John’s low gravelly voice in your ear makes your back arch, liquid velvet in your veins turning you desperate. Your fingers press into his flesh again, gripping the back of his shoulder as his rocking thrusts shove you to the edge. You just need a little more pressure, a little more friction and you’ll come undone.

“John, don’t stop, don’t stop”

You chant as your thighs tremble around his hips. John can feel you fluttering around his cock and reaches back to grip your thigh, sliding his palm up to your ass and lifts you slightly. The tiny shift in position is enough to trigger your orgasm. You can’t temper the wailing cry that rips from you as you cum, your entire body clutching at him, fingers tight in his hair. He starts to lose his steady rhythm, the pull of your body overwhelming him.

“Fuck, love, you’re going to make me cum.”

John’s cursing, his hips stuttering as he shifts to shallow little thrusts. You can feel his cock jerk inside your still pulsing pussy as he cums. His deep groan in your ear, his face in your neck sending waves of sensation through you. You pant, locked together for long moments, both of you reluctant to move an inch.

Finally, John breaks the soft spell and slides your thighs off his hips, pulling out of you slowly, making you hiss. He gets up and disposes of the condom, getting you a glass of water before returning to you in bed. He spoons you, rolling you onto your side, out of the wet spot you’ve made. You can feel his whiskers on the back of your shoulder and shiver, tightening your grip on his arm.

“You make me feel like a punk teenager again darling, can’t stop myself. I swear I can last longer than that.”

“mm, I feel too good to argue with you. You were never a punk teenager. And I don’t care, I want you to feel as good as I do right now.” Your sentences are short, your brain power in short supply.

“You’re too good to me, love.”

John argues anyways, making you smile and kiss his hand before curling around it again, affection for the man holding you overtaking you.

“Can you drive me to work tomorrow morning?”

You ask softly, stroking the hair on his arm, your eyes drifting shut.

“Yes, of course darling. I’ll pick you up too.”

He counters, his mouth scattering kisses over the back of your shoulder and neck.

“You don’t have to do that-“

You start to tell him you can figure out the route home while at work but he cuts you off.

“I want to. I’ve got errands to run tomorrow anyway. It’s no trouble. That is if you haven’t quit by lunch.”

He kisses the base of your neck and even half asleep with your brain rattled you can hear the fond amusement in his voice. Insufferable man.

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306

Ao3

Next Chapter

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #this work has smut #john price smut #john price x you #moving in together

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bird-cag3 · 18 days ago

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Slugcat Designs Pt. 3

Artificer and Gourmand’s turn woohoo!! Explanations under the cut!!

Artificer :

Buckle up because I have a LOT to say about them.

First and foremost, I headcanon that like many real life creatures, slugcats can physically adapt to their environments and living situations (e.g, hens growing to appear like roosters when no male is present in a group). Consequently, after Artificer lost their pups, their killing nature made them adapt and grow tougher, more muscular, and thicker fur to resist fire.

As a result of this transformation, I imagine they aren’t as built to slink around as much as they used to be able to, less capable of squeezing through tight spaces with their size and muscle mass.

I included two pearl earrings on their ear, each representing a pup they lost. Their tail has a representation of mother achievement symbol on it.

Gourmand :

Love this fella, hate their play style.

Right off the bat, I knew to include scars. This scug is a warrior and a leader and is Tough, so they’re obviously going to be a little roughed up. On their arms is the karma symbol for gluttony / greed / indulgence.

They, too, have the whiskers present on Monk and Survivors designs! Perhaps they’re descendants of the same colony, perhaps not, I haven’t decided that yet so it’s up to you.

#rain world #rain world art #rw art #digital art #rain world fanart #artwork #rw artificer #rw slugcat #rw slugcat design #character redesign #rw gourmand

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nathanbatemanfucker · 1 year ago

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Blossoms & Whiskers

prompt: painting

pairing: jake lockley x f!reader

contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions

wc: 1.1k

an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.

“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.

“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.

You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.

You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.

You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.

“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.

You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”

Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”

Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”

“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask gently.

“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.

You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.

“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”

With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.

His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”

You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.

It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.

“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.

“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.

Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.

“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.

“You?”

“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”

“Me?”

He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.

“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”

His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”

Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.

“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.

“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.

All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.

You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”

Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.

He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”

“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.

“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight fanfiction #moonknightevents #arson writes

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artisyone · 7 months ago

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Surprise! I'm back working on this series once again! This time here are a few takes on domestic cats! 🐈

Extra Details on each breed are below:

Persian

- Long fluffy coats

- Often have round faces and short muzzles

- Short and/or stout in stature

Maine Coon

- largest cat breed

- dense thick fur

- often have fur tufts on the tips of ears

- long fur that looks like a mane across the neck and chest

Scottish Fold

-Can have floppy ears on one or both ears

-Small noses

Bobtail

-small stubby tails

-Can be smaller depending on the type of bobtail

Sphynx

-little to no hair on body

-Very wrinkly regardless of age

-Strangely bat-like ears

-still can develop patterns on skin

General Info

- Any species can have visible whiskers

- Can have standard nose or have cat noses

- Can have traditional eyes or stylized cat eyes

- Cats can unsheathe their claws

- All species can have different kinds of stripes and fur patterns, some depending on gender at birth

#my art #illustration #concept design #character design #Blaze the Cat #Sonic OC #sonic the hedghog fanart #sth #sonic the hedgehog

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missellaneousworks · 2 months ago

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Tuck In - Shawn x MC Drabble

Relationship fluff goodness for the best cat man in the world's birthday!

Tags: Established relationship--MC and Shaun have been going strong for a while now, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, so much fluff you're drowning!

Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack is a +18 ONLY series. MINORS DNI.

You blinked blearily, staring at the soft glow of the screen. How many times have you read this paragraph? Two or three, you were sure. Yup, it wasn't sticking. You reached your nighttime limit, which was often to the dismay of your night owl boyfriend. With a defeated sigh you saved the work and hit the shut down button. Standing up, you clutched the bat-printed blanket that draped over your shoulders.

Padding over to the other side of your shared office, Shaun furiously typed away at the next part of the script. Moonpie snoozed next to the computer, her little head partially resting on top of it, likely appreciating the warmth. Leaning down, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his hunched shoulders. He continued to type, but you felt the muscles in his arms relax by a fraction.

"Hey," though his eyes didn't leave the screen, his voice was warm and inviting.

"Hey," you replied into his dreads sleepily. "I gotta call it quits tonight, babe."

"What, already?" He paused the rhythmic typing to look at your face, noticing the bags under your eyes.

"Dude. It's 1:22 AM."

"Wha? Can't be, it's... oh." Shaun's protest stopped short when he turned to the clock app on his laptop, brilliantly showing it was the wee hours of the morning. "Well, that's still pretty early on my time clock."

You bent over further, resting your chin on his right shoulder, placing your palm over his chest, rubbing gently to play with the chest hair. "Well, it's late on mine. I can't believe you still write throughout the night without your eyeballs falling out. I haven't done that since college..."

"Ah contraire, my best work is done admidst the moonlit night," Shaun revealed a toothy grin, his canine shining in the dimly lit room.

"Mmm, well I get some of the best sleep on a moonlit night." You gave him a loving peck on the top of his head before reluctantly releasing him. "Night, babe." But before you stepped away, you tapped the table near where Moonpie was resting, gently getting her attention with a Mrrrp?. You reached your hand out to allow the cat to sniff your finger, recognizing your scent, and gently brushed the side of her cheek, leading up to her ear. "Night-night, Moonie."

"Night, Kitten," Shaun smiled as he watched you slink down the hall and into the bedroom. He sighed once you were out of view, turning back to his laptop, but did a double take at the now empty spot where Moonpie had been cat-napping. Whirling around, Shaun saw Moonpie's tail following where you had disappear to. She feebily attempted to open the now closed door, using her paws and whiskers to feel for any possible opening. Shaun regarded her for a moment before standing up and stretching.

He stepped over to Moonpie to slowly scooped her up and cradled her over his shoulder. "You wanna go in and tuck them in? Yeah?" He cooed softly. "Yeah, let's go say nigh-night."

...

Your vision was blurry, but you didn't want to oversleep as you checked your alarms for the third time. And just like before, all 5 of them were set. There'd be no way you could sleep past them. The creak of the door got your attention as soft light poured in, followed by a familiar silhouette.

"Sh-Shaun?" You answered as you tried and failed to suppress a yawn midway through calling out to him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Shaun softly placed Moonpie on the bed, her motor immediately started up as she used her head to rub the side of your face, popping down into the crook of your neck. "Moonie and I came to tuck you in."

"Awwww, thank you babyyyy," you cooed giving the purring kitty a loving head bump. "Oh, and thank you as well, hottie." You added jokingly with a lazy wink.

Shaun chuckled as he lay on his side, facing you. He gave Moonpie a few more scritches, earning him louder purrs. You had managed to crawl under the plush blankets and made yourself a nice little nest. Of course, there was always room for one more. Even if Shaun wasn't going to stay with you the whole night, you'd welcome any cuddle time with him.

Shaun's hand went from stroking Moonpie's back to splaying it over your midsection. Even through the thick blanket, you could feel his radiant warmth and love.

"Thought you said you weren't," you paused as you let another yawn escape. "tired yet."

"I'm not, but I wanted to snuggle a little before going back to work. Feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"You were nose-deep in your script. That's due tomorrow. It's okay, baby, I get it."

"Well, technically it's due today. Since ya know, it is morning." He gave a half shrug. "But, let's talk about anything else. I'll stay until you fall asleep, okay, Kitten?"

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the smile spread across your face. "I'd love that." Shaun returned it with his own warm smile, you were so adorable like this. Sleepy, warm, and happy in the bed you shared together. In the life that you two had made for yourselves. He wouldn't have traded it for anything else in this world. You were his love. His family. And with certainty, his future.

The two of you talked about your day, and the days to come. A new restaurant you wanted to try out on your next days off, Shaun mentioned a cinema house that was showing an old classic horror movie he wanted to show you, it seemed like the two of you planned a dinner and a date later this week. Conversations turned to talking about other plans you two had for the not-so-distant future.

But before long your heavy eyelids began to droop, and your words became one or two syllables as sleep slowly but surely claimed you.

Though you could not see it, Shaun gave you a tender of adoration as he watched you sleep for just a few seconds, Moonpie curled at your side as you both slumbered. Shaun lingered a moment, his lips ghosting your forehead before kissing you. You barely reacted save for a small smile on your lips.

"Sweet dreams, Kitten."

"...mm... hm...."

He delicately brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek before quietly rising from the bed, pulling up the blanket slightly to cover your sleeping form. Without another sound he silently left the bedroom to continue his work, leaving the door only open a crack.

He tiptoed back to the office and plopped down in his chair. But instead of getting back to writing, he opened the side drawer and shuffled to the back of the drawer where he kept a small black box. Picking it up, his thumb ran over the smooth yet intricate texture of the container before flicking it open to reveal a golden ring with your birthstone at the very center.

Just a few more days... to the beginning of the next chapter of your story together.

#something is wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack shaun #shaun durand-cofer #sunny day jack #sdj shaun #sdj mc #shaun x mc #i'm so stoked i got this done in time for his birthday #baaaarely squeaked it in but still!!!#happy birthday to the bestest cat man!#MissElla's Works

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 2 months ago

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Uniquely recognizable

a post on making fantasy people species that stand out but still feel enough like their mainstream counterparts that your audience won't get confused.

Like me, a lot of you want to use the standard fantasy people in your projects. gnomes, orcs, elves, goblins, dwarves, etc. But you don't want to use the same old typical designs you see in every fantasy roleplay game, movie, show, book, video game, whatever. Those designs have become iconic and ingrained in the common understanding of what those fantasy people are supposed to look like.

But it gets tedious, doesn't it? Sometimes it feels like the only difference between elves in different media is the size of their ears. Sometimes it feels like every fantasy people group is designed to be as close to human as possible and then their fantasy traits are just an afterthought. You're tired of it! You want to do something new!

But where is the line between a unique looking elf and a personally unique fantasy people that need their own name? How far can you alter the standard orc before it stops being an orc? And what are gnomes, anyway?

in this post, I'll be showing off a few of my own fantasy folks and talking about the balance between a recognizable design and a unique design. Including one of my own folks that began as something typical and gradually became something else, until I had to come up with a new name to avoid confusion.

first up: Goblins! what are goblins? if you asked a handful of random people, what traits would they consider the most typical of a goblin?

small, usually green, big ears, lanky limbs? frequently a large nose, sharp teeth, and yellow eyes? those are all common traits for goblins in media across the genre. here are a few sketches of easily recognizable goblins: (including one of my favorites, the goblin design of @pocketss)

(image description: three sketches of goblins. The only one directly labeled is the pocketss goblin, which is very small, has a round head and thin pointy nose, and large leaf shaped ears. it is wearing a little coat. the other two goblins are more typical of fantasy roleplay and video games, having large noses, crooked ears, and short bodies with long arms. one of them is wearing a mechanic outfit with overalls and goggles. the other is wearing a hooded rogue outfit. end description.)

these are all different from each other, but they're similar enough that you could glance at any of them and say "oh that looks like a goblin!" You've probably even seen similar goblin art from other tumblr artists, or your favorite fantasy media.

so now let's look at how I draw goblins:

(image description: a frog-like goblin standing in a cheeky pose, leaning on an invisible surface of some kind. They're nude, but have no external sexual traits. Their belly is a pale yellow while the rest of their body is light green with darker green stripes. They have a round face, yellow frog-like eyes, a small nose, long whiskers, and big bat-like ears. next to them on either side are lists of traits that are common for goblins in fantasy media, contrasted against the more unique traits of this goblin design. end description)

this is one of my fantasy people that I consider the most recognizable. They've got a lot of standard goblin traits! green skin, yellow eyes, sharp teeth, big ears, lanky limbs, and they're rather small. On the other hand, they also have several traits that make them stand out from the common depictions of goblins.

They're amphibious, they have whiskers and a frog-like vocal sac in their throat. their skin comes in different colored patterns like real life frogs. and they're also hermaphrodites in the scientific sense. my goblins don't have set biological sexes from birth. they change between laying eggs and producing sperm based on various environmental factors.

But I think it would be hard for anyone to take a glance at this design and not recognize it as a type of goblin. it strikes a pretty good ideal between the typical and the unique, in my personal and somewhat biased opinion.

Moving on from this, let's look at my depiction of gnomes. They're kind of on thin ice with that title, I don't think they're as easily recognizable. But at the same time, I'm not sure I can come up with an alternate and more fitting title. Gnomes are weird. I see them depicted in only a limited handful of ways in mainstream fantasy, and far more varied ways from independent artists. Gnomes come from a mythology where their name could have referred to several small fae things, or been easily exchanged with other small fae things and similar creatures. The most common depiction of them is probably the garden gnome, which has little in common with how gnomes are depicted as a playable race in roleplay games. but here are three ways I usually see them depicted:

(image description: three sketches of gnomes. the first gnome is labeled "dwarf lite" and resembles a short humanoid with a sturdy body, pointy ears, and a short thick beard. they are wearing a pointed cap and a durable work outfit with gloves and boots. the second gnome is labeled "mousey" and resembles a small humanoid with a hairy face, larger semi round ears, and a long skinny tail. they also appear to have small claws on their fingers and toes. they're wearing a collared shirt, vest, and simple pants. the third gnome is labeled "elf hobbit" and resembles a short humanoid with pointy ears and long hair, wearing a cloaked adventure outfit. end description.)

common gnomish traits include a larger nose, pointy ears, some form of facial hair, and a short torso with somewhat longer arms. The most common versions in mainstream media are the "dwarf lite" and "elf hobbit" versions, like no one can quite decide if gnomes should primarily be tinkerers or spell casters, and which role they're depicted with determines whether their design is more dwarf-like or elf-like. But the mousey with a tail gnomes are more common from independent artists. It reminds me of some illustrations of the Borrowers, and I do wonder if the artists had them in mind.

here's my gnome design:

(image description: a gnomish woman sitting casually and looking upwards with a smile. she has a pig-like snout and ears, as well as four-digit hooved hands and feet, and a stiff short tail. she is wearing a wrapped head scarf over her hair, an off-the-shoulder shirt, and long pants with a climbing belt. on either side of her, there are trait lists comparing the expected gnomish traits with my own different gnomish traits. end description.)

My gnomes do match the concept of being small, agile, magic using folks with a prominent nose. But mine are also not as small as typical depictions of gnomes, and I've gone the porcine route to connect them with my orcs rather than leaning into the typical dwarf lite or elf hobbit depictions. I would not expect every new viewer to see this design and say "oh, obviously that's a gnome." because the pig-like traits are very atypical for depictions of gnomes. But at the same time, they have enough in common, and gnomes are varied enough in other media, that it doesn't take too long to adjust the audience view so they accept this as a gnome. at least I hope it doesn't lol.

and finally let's look at a fantasy people design where I got too into my unique ideas and had to rename them because they just lost the most recognizable traits of the original thing.

I will admit that in middle school I was a Twilight fan and I thought the vampires in that series had a lot in common with elves, so I decided I also wanted elf vampires. Cringe, I know. But the elf-vampires kinda got away from that origin as I built up my world and characters, and I just couldn't keep calling them vampires! I had to think of a new title. But I also didn't want to work too hard at that new title, so I just took some letters out of "strigoi" and I'm going to say it shares in-story linguistic origins with the word "drow", so both of these groups were named after an old elvish term for "those who live below/ in the dirt/ at the roots". Stroi and Drow almost sound kinda similar. Close enough to claim linguistic drift, at least! So they are vampires no more, and I am quite happy with how they fit into my worldbuilding.

for comparison, here are a few typical vampire designs:

(image description: three bust portrait sketches of different vampires. First is an undead human, looking like a common human man wearing a coat, but his eyes are red and he looks very tired. second is a nosferatu, who is bald with crooked pointy ears, a sunken face, and big sharp teeth and clawed fingers. he's wearing a dark robe. third is the fantasy dracula, looking more similar to an elf with sharp teeth and red eyes, but his features are more angular and he has more facial hair than the typical elf design. he is wearing a fancy cloak. end description.)

and here's the elf-cousin stroi that just stopped being a vampire a very long time ago:

(image description: an elf-like man with curly red hair and a long tail. He is standing on his toes. His outfit consists of a simple pair of pants, a shirt with a broad neckline, and a slouchy square cardigan. on either side of him, there is a list of common vampire traits and a list of stroi traits. end description.)

vampires are typically some form of supernatural immortal being, usually undead, often having fangs and venom and special weaknesses. They usually have magical powers like shapeshifting and entrancement. They pretty much always survive on a diet of blood and nothing else and they're generally nocturnal.

when I created the stroi as vampires at the start, I designed them as blood drinking elves who came from a cursed bloodline, all descended from some revived dead warriors. In concept, this is a pretty cool idea! but as I got more and more into speculative evolution and fleshed out my world and characters and all my story ideas, I ended up changing a lot of details for these folks and eventually they just no longer resembled vampires! I don't think a single person would look at this design and think "that's a vampire". no, they're more likely thinking "that's a funny looking elf", and they're right.

my stroi are living creatures in a perfectly normal way, though they have long lifespans. Unlike the elves, they live on the ground and are primarily carnivorous, so they do have sharper teeth and they do consume blood as a result of consuming raw or less cooked meat. They are not strictly nocturnal or diurnal, taking their own shifts to be awake at different times of day, taking oddly timed naps as all carnivores do. They can use magic, like anyone in my setting, but they have no powers unique to them, and certainly no special weaknesses. They don't even have venom, unless you count normal mouth bacteria. So you see, they just don't share enough traits with vampires to justify the title. People see the word "vampire", and it gives them some very particular expectations that my stroi simply cannot fulfill. Their lore has changed too much.

and sometimes this is necessary for the creative process. coming up with a new title for your fantasy people when you realize they no longer fit their origin can be very difficult! but it's so much worse to keep clinging to that origin and trying desperately to maintain the traits that people expect to see even though it doesn't work for your project anymore. I couldn't even stick with my idea that the stroi could still be vampiric if they were brood parasites for the elves. it's another cool idea, but it doesn't fit what I'm writing at all.

Learning to let go of your old ideas and move forward with the new ones is an important skill. Maybe you really really wanted to have elves in your story, but you leaned so hard into some new traits, got invested in all of that, and months or years down the road you look back and realize your elves aren't so elf like anymore! you wanted them to be wolf-like, but you got so excited for your wolf-elves that you ended up with something else entirely. it happens! and it's okay to let go of the elves and move forward with your awesome wolf people. maybe you just have to go do some research on wolf people in mythology now and figure out if there are any other non-werewolf creatures you can take the name of and use as further inspiration to flesh out your wolf people. or maybe you'll have to come up with a whole new title from scratch.

the most important thing to remember is that you should be enjoying your creative process! whatever that ends up looking like.

#fantasy anatomy #goblins #gnomes #vampires #elves #my designs #redesigning fantasy #uniquely recognizable

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