#bumble bud

[muskbunny]

mean big sister who sneaks you vodka when you're in her room with the door locked. this is what cool mature adults do, she tells you. she holds the bottle straight to your lips and makes you drink more than you can take. you spill a little on yourself from coughing so hard. once it hits, you're a bumbling clumsy mess, and she graciously offers you a spot in her bed to sleep away the buzz. wouldn't want mom to see you like this, after all. you oblige. you're so cute like this. so defenseless. you hardly remember it the morning after, her weight upon you, the way her hands felt, tracing every part of your sensitive, soft body. feeling up your budding breasts. the way you cried your sister's name while she held your wrists firm in place, fighting back so uselessly. how her cock fucked you full and wet. taking advantage of you, violating you. you can still taste her in your mouth when she kisses you good morning.

[asexualasshat]

Anyone else Thinkin about how Steve was 100% the subject of Eddie cafeteria rants during Steve’s senior year?? Maybe a jibe about how Nancy was right to leave him? She’s too good for him??

And it hurts cause he’s a lil raw but it’s mostly like “yeah I know” so it mostly brushes past him. He’s doing his best to be a decent person.

And so now after seeing Steve bite the head off a bat and also be kind and respectable? He’s like “woah. Steve is good. So good. Maybe the best. Deserves so much love.” And obviously that’s rapidly growing crush. But he doesn’t quite pick up on it so he’s like “this surely means he’s at least good enough for Nancy. I need to encourage them to get together because Steve is so good and deserves the best”

So he encourages it and Steve kinda explores it and he’s quickly like “hmmm no. She’s the best and we’re buds and will never kiss again.”

And Eddie is a lil crushed that Steve isn’t happy and in love. No he’s fr feeling very sad for Steve.

It’s like a month later, with Steve leaning against him while they watch a movie, that Eddie’s like “hold the phone! I don’t just want him to be happy and in love! I want him to be happy and in love with ME!”

Thus followed by Eddie’s bumbling attempts because he doesn’t really think he’s good enough for steve

But what he doesn’t know is that Steve sped through a sexuality crisis and had been ranting to Robin about how Eddie wasn’t picking up on his flirting (Robin says he’s too subtle) so he doesn’t know what to do. But oh man, he recognizes flirting coming at him with no question. Even if it’s so deeply awkward. So once he sees Eddie flirting??? Game on. Come to Stevie

End rant

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA # 35

Who will he be tonight? that’s the question.

Imagine dis…

It's been a while since I last posted here and even though I am late on the trend the song would not leave my head ( due to my gremlin of siblings) and you are now here to suffer with me.

MWAHAHAHAHA

…

Bruce was stressed, not because of his nightly duties nor his exhausting job as the CEO of Wayne enterprise. He got his license to foster children by the skin of his teeth through legal channels, he was so close as to use his privileges as the richest man in Gotham to get his license also to be able to foster Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Apparently despite his playboy persona aka “Brucie Wayne” just entering its social debut almost made him almost impossible to foster Dick as the social worker that had been assigned to him is also one of the few social workers in Gotham that takes their job seriously.

Bruce knew that his budding playboy persona, the carefree “BRUCIE Wayne” should be buried, he could replace this mask of his with his philanthropist self but he couldn’t just immediately change it would and will raise whispers on why, but what could be the reason?

Just as he continued scheming a knock broke his train of thoughts and entered Danny Nightgale, the calm and efficient secretary who had worked before with Lucius Fox ever since he had been hired. Danny, from Bruce’s file on him, son of two leading ecto-biologists in the world, a quiet kid who grew up in a city from nowhere, had a bad accident that left him with a slow heartbeat, discovered that one of the last two purple back gorilla is female and thus avoiding total extinction. Doesn’t have much media presence due to their hometown being the home of the former ghost hero Phantom who had vanished the moment that the anti-ecto acts had been re-appealed…

…

Bruce approached Danny with a pitch and handed him a nicely drafted contract. The agreement was straightforward: pretend to be Bruce's adoring partner in public. It was the only way to change the public's opinion, to show the world a stable, dependable, responsible Bruce Wayne who was ready to be a foster and maybe a father.

…

As years went by this arrangement had been beneficial to both parties.

Danny now saves more money, and despite having one of the highest salaries being paid all went to his rent to the nicer parts of Gotham. It had so many insurances as well security measures to ensure the tenants are safe, but the downside having most of his paycheck going to the rent itself. Now he has a permanent house that is large and free food that is made by the greatest cook that ever existed.

Bruce is less embarrassed about putting on a show for the public, he seems to take on the air-head mask whenever his supposed “lover” is around and near him, turning him into a bumbling mess whenever the “love of his life” is around him. He also secretly took great pleasure whenever those annoying journalists asked nonsense questions which he answered in his most obnoxious voice spiel away how world peace is attainable if all just gave their own Danny’s.

…

Each generation of Batkids saw how Bruce had a crush on Danny yet kept fumbling himself and reminding himself that all of this was just part of the contract. Sure each kid knew of said contract that was made for Dick’s sake but said the reason for said contract wanted to rip that thing ages ago and into pieces the moment he wanted to call Danny Dad.

Though each child that resides in that manor noticed some inconsistency within Danny’s schedules, not only that they have just recently discovered that while Danny loves to chat there are still personal things that he hadn't delved into aside from the information that was already in his files. Of course, there is also his weird avoidance of the vigilante group of Gotham, especially Batman, despite being proven to the public both in and out of Gotham that Batman is trustworthy, Danny still held wariness to said vigilante.

You’d think that after years of exposure around the Wayne’s Danny would have already discovered the cave all on his own. But it seems that every time are inches away discovering their secret an emergency or urgent priority was flaring from the Wayne enterprise that only he was needed to solve the said problem.

After weeks of Tim’s continuous intake of a very worrying amount of pure caffeine, espresso shots, and 10 different brands of energy drinks they have finally connected the dots.

Danny is a secret FBI agent planted in Gotham to catch Batman and his group in the act of breaking the law and to disband the whole spiel about being a hero and vigilante. Sure the JL and the sudden rise of heroes and vigilantes that popped up around the world that are not government affiliated made those who sat at those red velvet chairs nervous as they don’t have any active say or word as to what crimes to focus on and so on. There are reasons why Amanda Waller is still in power and still allowed to roam free with funds after funds to continue her work despite being continuously caught by the JL.

Now it is up to them to change Danny’s mind and abandon his mission so that they can finally stop seeing Bruce act like that “Brucie” persona, that they thanked the gods had been immediately vetoed, towards Danny.

…

Alfred sits down in one of the manor’s libraries with a cup of tea in one hand a book in another with another small pile on the side with a teapot ready to refill himself another cup.

He sighs at the drama that seems to unfold to his eyes only.

Ever since Master Danny had been integrated into this household he had found more free time than he could ever imagine. The young man would always find ways to outpace Alfred when it comes to housework to the point it had become their little game to this day. As much as he supports his ward/son, Master Bruce needs to gather all emotional intelligence he has left and confess to Master Danny.

But that wasn’t the live soap opera that it seemed to unravel.

His grandkids are set and believe that Master Danny is a secret agent who is here due to a mission related to the vigilante group stationed in Gotham.

Alfred adores all of them, he did but sometimes he wonders if the title World’s Greatest Detective is to be added to his arsenal of titles.

Alfred knew that Master Danny wasn’t just an ordinary secretary but he was also the Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, how did he know of this?

He simply walked in on Danny changing from his human self to that otherworldly creature that looked too regal to be a normal being, and so clues that were the littlest of things that he had always chalked up to the angle of the light seemed to begin clicking in place.

Alfred was a bit miffed when he learned that Master Danny might have been cheating when it came to their little bouts of cleaning the manor but he now stayed quiet as Master Danny still didn’t know of the quote “furry brigade” unquote are the Wayne’s, and based on Master Danny’s past rants he will have his little laugh when the truth comes out, but until then he will drink his tea in peace as the drama in Wayne manor seems to unfold.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[razrbladekiss]

LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

[jinuaei]

Dare

I saw a vid on twitter where the dude came while tattooing his own dick. Couldn't get out of my mind so now I have to write it about Leon because he's my muse. RE2r Leon in my mind but with a lil bit RE4r body. NO OUTBREAK HERE.

I also don't have any experience in tattoos in general so pardon me for getting stuff wrong.

Update: Put the vid in question, unsafe twitter link underneath the fic

Warning: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Multiple orgasms(Leon), tattooing, needles, dacryphilia, UNSAFE LINK BELOW

Word count: 2.2k

Leon S. Kennedy x Tattoo artist! Reader

This was a bad idea.

Leon feels stupid standing outside the studio, he can't believe he's actually going to do a stupid dare that Chris forced him to do. He's going to get his dick tattooed. Thankfully, Chris was gracious enough to give him the freedom to choose his own tattoo.

I'll just get a small one and go.

But once he steps in and is greeted by the tattoo artist, he realizes that maybe he might get a bigger one after all.

You stood there with a smile, the tattoos on your body proudly shown to the world-- and holy fuck it was hot. He stammers a hello and nervously looks around, feeling awkward being in a place that he clearly doesn't belong in. There were a few people inside, 2 customers and another tattooist doing work on one of them, and of course there was you.

Chuckling at him, you guide this bumbling blond to your chair, showing him a catalogue of the designs that you do. He was overwhelmed with the choices so ultimately he just looked at you with his big blue eyes.

"Uh.. could...could you choose one for me? Something that you think would look good on me..."

...

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE ONE FOR YOURSELF???

He mentally punched the air when your relaxed eyes clashes with his wide ones, berating himself for probably annoying you with his indecision.

I-I mean, I don't really know much about tattoos so it would be a good idea to ask them right? I-it's not because I think they're gorgeous and want their approval or something right?? Yeah..

Expecting irritation crossing your face, he braced himself to get screamed at but instead he was met with giddiness. He relaxes under your eyes, finally keeping his nervousness under control.

"I'd love that! I was meaning to do a design I came up with recently, so if you don't mind I can do that to you?"

He nods eagerly, like a happy puppy getting asked to go on a walk.

"Great! Where do you want to get tattooed so I can modify it based on the area."

Leon's blood runs cold as the nerves came back ten fold. He forgot that he was going to get a tattoo, on his dick.

"...my dick." He tries to tell you but it only comes out as a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"My dick...!"

"Sorry could you repeat tha-"

"My dick!!! I'm gonna get my dick tattooed...!" He finally shouts, panting, exasperated.

The studio is quiet except for the buzzing of the machines, everyone's eyes was on him. He feels his face flush and tried to hide himself, scrunching into a ball, or close to it at least without looking like a pathetic baby in front of you. But being the angel that you are, only laughed and waved those staring at him as if to say 'this is normal'. Your assistant also laughed but directed the costumers attention to himself, explaining how newbies get nervous like that.

The blond unfurls himself, looking at you with sad eyes. You pat his head and he won't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry dude, we don't judge here. Luckily for you, I have experience in that regard, but you don't look like you have any. Fresh meat?"

"Yeah... This is my first time."

"Bold of you to choose a sensitive part of your body. Really brave bud."

A smile creeps onto his face, delighted at being complimented by you. Yet his mind wanders back to your words earlier, you tattooed other peoples dick before? Internally shaking his head, he then asks when they'll start, which you promptly answered with a right now if you're ready, in which he agreed excited to get done by you... The tattoo he means.

You lead him to a different part of the studio, a more private area to be exact, its smaller with only one chair for the client. Due to him being too excitable he forgot how embarrassing it would be for people to see his dick in general. But if it's you... Of course it's fine! You're tattooing him after all, this is professional work, be professional Leon.

He sits on the chair after you instructed him to, you then proceed to tell him to strip his pants and underwear and roll up his shirt. Before he did that though he had to ask something important.

"Does it matter if I'm hard or not...?"

"Nah, it'll still look the same whether it's flaccid or erected."

Nodding shyly he starts to strip off slowly, almost teasing, which embarrasses him further since he imagines himself looking like he's giving you a strip dance. You wait there patiently, head lowered, arms crossed, eyes switching between his pants to his own. Eventually he lowers his pants and underwear to his ankles, shirt blocking his dick, but when he raises his shirt your eyebrows raise when you see how hard he is. Red angry tip, twitching under your scrutiny.

"Do you like it...?"

"Hm. You're bigger than I expected. Great abs too."

That made him more confident, puffing his chest out in response. He laid down on the chair, readying himself with what's going to happen. On the side he can see you prepare a piece of paper with your design on it. Staring at you, he admires the tattoos that litter your whole body, your arms filled with dark ink, one half filled with intricate details of crosses and angels, he can also see some weird sigils, rings with what looks like Latin on it and stars. He can only assume that underneath your clothes there are more than what he is allowed to see.

The young mans imagination is cut of with a jerk of his hips, startled he looks at you wide eyed and scared. He tried to apologize profusely but you only shook your head and explained that you needed to put the stencil on his dick. Luckily he survived the stenciling as it was done faster than he expected, he can't say the same for the actual tattooing part though.

You we're thankfully very patient with him, caressing his thigh before starting, which his body reacted with a jerk that he somewhat kept to a minimum.

The first thing he noticed was the loud buzzing of the machine, the next is the vibration, finally-- the pain. It was bearable, but that was not the horrific part of this situation, no, it was the fact that he was enjoying the constant stabbing, combined with the vibrations it felt so good on his cock. Leon wouldn't say that he's a masochist, but damnit whatever the fuck is happening turns him on so fucking much.

Shaky breaths start to come out of his mouth, it was getting harder to breathe with the constant stimulation and if he focus hard enough he could actually feel your breath on his thigh. God you were so close to his dick.

"O-oh! Oh God...huff... shit. I like it, why the fuck do I like it???" He mumbles to himself, biting his cheek to suppress the moans that's bubbling up from his throat.

He tries so hard to focus on something else, the paperwork left on the station-- the vibrations... Chris' smug face when he told him the dare-- feels so good..! His best friend at home, his good ol' dog-- FUCK!!!

"STOP!! Stop...! Fuck. Ah...sorry, it's just hahh... Feels too good."

He pants harshly, fingers holding on the smooth leather for dear life. He feels humiliated under your stare, tears starting to prick at his eyes, making it hard to decipher the expression on your face but he can feel the heat in your eyes.

Your eyes hungrily take in his body, appreciating his muscles as well as his pudge in certain areas. With such a sensitive man in front of you, you get to see all of his reactions. The way his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed, his lashes accentuated by the heavy blush spreading from his face. Every flinch causes his body to flex and it is truly a sight for sore eyes.

However, since this is a professional setting, you as the professional doing your job, and him, the client just getting a tattoo on his weeping cock. The same cock that you have to wipe over and over as it drips pre-cum over your work. You tried your best to hold back, managing to stop yourself from ravaging this delectable hunk in front of you. But it was soooo hard to do so.

God... What a cute little thing he is. Makes me want to eat him up.

You tried to wait patiently for him to calm down, you waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes for it to stop twitching but it just wouldn't. stop. dripping. Ultimately you gave him a choice, either you stop here and work on it another time or you keep going regardless of how currently sensitive he his.

A whimper came out of his mouth when he sensed you getting more and more impatient with him. Wanting to please you he chose the 2nd option. The faster he's done the better right?

"If you're gonna cum, tell me."

"Wha- Hngggh...!"

The needles start up again and Leon really held himself back, gripping on the leather beneath his fingers. It worked for a moment but the sensation proves too much when his body jerks forward from a particularly more painful-- but delicious, jab of the needle. His hips was then forced down by your hand slamming itself on his pelvis. Your touch almost made him fall off the edge of the cliff but at that exact moment he had a brilliant idea to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

"Hahh...hng! Fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Pleasepleaseplease...!"

And then immediately proceeding to cum all over his chest and your hand that is still pining him down. Even then you were not strong enough to fully hold him down, his hips almost flying from the chair. Tears stream down his face, a mix of humiliation and pleasure dripping to the leather below. As he calms down from his high, he hears shuffling before suddenly, a weight plops down onto his lap. You didn't even warn him before starting again.

"Wait...! I'm still hnggg... I'm still sensitive!" Not knowing if you heard him or not, he tries again but is cut off with a moan.

"Don't move too much because I'm not stopping until it's done."

You're gonna be the death of him.

Finally after so so so so long you were done with his tattoo. Leon is spent, lying there chest covered with his fluids, t-shirt soaked with a mix of tears, drool, and probably semen. He was still twitching, eyes rolled back, overstimulated to hell and back. He doesn't know how much he came, thrice? Four times? Maybe even more than that but God was it amazing. Nothing could prepare him from the tenderness that you exude as you wipe the tears from his cheeks. You leaned in, face hovering over his as you look him in the eye, cooing at how much of a good boy he is for handling everything so well.

"Thank you... hahh hah..."

You hopped off his lap and went to get a mirror for him. He feels a little loopy with the dopamine rushing through his brain but that didn't stop him from thanking you. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes look at the mirror, showing his cock being held by you. Focusing on the design he can tell how much love you put on it.

It starts from just below the head, the whole thing wrapping around his whole dick. It was something akin to an insect, maybe a scorpion with 4 sharp legs, the head of the creature sprouting tentacles. The tail of it was long, twisting around until it stops, the sharpened end on the base, close to his balls. It was honestly really good, the shading makes it look realistic, almost like it will jump at him and bury itself into his skin. He's kind of sad that it's not similar to any of your tattoos. Still, he's happy to have been marked by you.

"Did you bring extra clothes?"

"What?"

"You can't walk around the streets with a cum stained shirt, and you need to wear looser pants so it won't irritate tattoo."

Chris you better fucking pick up.

I should've called Luis instead.

Chris brought him clothes, probably from his own closet and Leon knew when Chris arrived because he could hear his boisterous laughter right outside the private room. SHIT! If I could hear him, people definitely heard me earlier.

After dressing up and doing the walk of shame towards the main studio, he sees Chris and your assistant laughing their guts out. Yeah they definitely heard me, and he's probably telling Chris everything.

You went over to them and smacked the tanned guy upside the head, introducing him as Carlos. Leon strains a smile, regardless of how much he wants to curl up into a ball and die. But Carlos reassures him that it actually happens and how he also cummed from you tattooing his dick, although he was not as loud as him. After that he was informed how to do aftercare for the tattoo and both him and Chris were off to go home.

Sitting on the passengers seat, Leon tuned out Chris' teasing and how 'I can't believe you actually did it!' and 'Imagine cumming while getting a tattoo LMAO'. On his hand is a piece of paper, written inside is your number and a note that read; 'See you when it heals ;)'.

Hey, maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

The vid in question:

https://twitter.com/miauaoo/status/1740150245672321112?fbclid=IwAR17lRhs4MBgodCPaPNCDPLYxKSiTYr5xonOdN2QpnHtEZjODEXAN-6TuYs

[drchucktingle]

Hi Dr. Tingle!

I was wondering if you have any advice for anxious buckaroos that are a little scared of putting themselves out into the world?

Maybe some advice you would tell your younger self?

Thank you for all you do <3

yes bud. part of my way on autism spectrum is that when i used to create EVERYTHING HAD TO BE PERFECT i would get so riled up by every small imperfection and if one little dang problem popped up then everything was ruined and chuck was in a BAD WAY.

there is no 'cure' for autism and i do not want my way to be cured, i LOVE being autistic, but this particular part of my trot was not healthy for me and i learned to adapt. part of my adapting trot was to start letting things be perfectly imperfect. it was small steps at first but now i can swim in a beautiful ocean of chaos pretty dang well.

anxiety and autism are not the same thing of course but maybe you can relate to this philosophical lesson of chuck:

when you create, whether that is with VISUAL ART or FOOD or A WALKING PATH THROUGH THE PARK or a BREATH OF AIR you have already made the perfect version of this thing, because it is a reflection of that moment on this timeline. you have CAPTURED THE NOW

any anxious feelings of 'am i doing this wrong?' 'is this weird?' 'is this incorrect?' 'is this awkward?' can always be answered with 'well this is perfect representation of right NOW'. if you are trotting with love in your way and fueling your path then THAT will shine through at the end and you will move towards something great, and the STEPS to get there are ALL perfectly imperfect.

to move it back to art, lets say you are trying to paint a field but you get out there with your canvas and you forget your dang GREEN PAINT. you might think 'DANG what a disaster i cannot paint the green grass gotta use red now this is the worst painting ever'. but here is the thing, that painting is not broken it is a PERFECT REFLECTION of what led to it and it is a PERFECT REPRESENTATION OF NOW because now is not perfect. what that painting says is 'this is the field of someone who forgot their green paint at home' and there is nothing WRONG with that. in fact that is exactly the kind of thing that makes trotting through this timeline fruitful and wonderful.

if you get anxious worrying about mistakes, maybe try thinking on idea that most mistakes fall into this category. dont worry bud we are ALL just bumbling through this timeline trying our hardest and making perfect imperfections.

[quinnyundertow]

Yuta Okkotsu x Reader 18+ NSFW

First Cunnilingus & First Blowjob

All characters are 18+

Excerpt from “When I Catch you Gege” Chapter 36

You gaze at each other for a long moment imperceptibly bridging the gap between you until your lips are on each other once again. It’s clumsy and bumbling but sweet and impassioned. His lips break away from yours long enough to kiss up the side of your jaw. You can’t help but giggle when he kisses a particularly ticklish spot near your neck. He’s quietly laughing along with you, his actions playful and needy. He sucks on your neck just under your jawline and a lust filled cry is pulled from your throat.

Thighs clenching you can feel yourself grow damper with every teasing action he takes. Your fingernails rake gently up the back of his neck and into his hair. The action draws a shiver from him and a low groan. You retreat much to his dismay, but it’s only for a moment as your hands go to the bottom of the sweatshirt you are borrowing. Yuta’s eyes widen slightly in anticipation as your fingers curl around the fabric and begin to pull it up. Pausing right before your breasts are revealed you playfully ask your starstruck partner, “Do you want to continue?”

Yuta can’t help but nod in a way that’s adorably over eager. His own interest is very apparent by the hardon in his sweatpants. “If that’s okay with-” the rest of his sentence dissolves into a hiss of air as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. The chilly air surrounding you makes your flesh tighten and your nipples harden. You toss the sweatshirt to the floor a little apprehensive as to what his reaction will be.

He’s just absorbing you like he’s trying to ingrain your every dip and curve into his brain permanently. You can’t help but flush under such a reverent gaze, your arms going to cover yourself in trepidation. This action spurs his own movement. Taking your hands in his gently he pulls them to him, kissing the palms of both. His eyes continue to drink you in, “How can someone be so perfect.”

He sounds a little breathless when he says it and you can’t help but laugh incredulously “I’m far from perfect.”

He meets your eyes for a moment and the desire burning there takes you aback, “You are my vision of perfection.”

His words are so honeyed you want to reject them but there’s such fervor in his voice you know he believes it to be as he says. Yuta’s soft lips leave a heated trail up your arms. His hands tracing softly down your back and sides making these seemingly mundane areas into new erogenous zones. You clench your thighs, your core throbbing with want. You are trying to be patient; you want to let him explore you at his own pace.

The breath is snatched from your throat, by a jarring surprise, as a sudden wet heat engulfs your breast. A gasping sound leaves you as he suckles you gently in his mouth. His tongue swirling over the sensitive bud of your nipple and pressing against it in a way that makes you jerk with arousal. You can’t help the obscene moan that escapes you when his teeth gently scrape your nipple as he releases you with an audible pop.

Yuta’s hands are on your ass and he’s pulling you to straddle his lap. His mouth is already descending on your other neglected peak, the bud of your first suckled tit hardens almost to the point of pain in the cold air. It’s clear he’s been paying attention to the noises you make by the way he treats your second boob. He’s repeating all the actions that dragged moans from your lips. His hands kneading your ass on his lap. You want to pleasure him too but he’s overwhelming you with attentiveness and you can’t bring yourself to stop him. “Yuutaa.” You’re gasping his name out while your fingers get lost in his raven locks.

He gives a particularly hard suck that has you seeing stars then pulls off long enough to say, “Again, say my name again.”

You shiver with anticipation, unable to deny him as his hands are running lightly up your thighs, his mouth back on your first breast, the bud turning a darker shade from his ministrations. You shakily let out his name and he moans around your flesh in response. “Y-Yuta, I-I can't, it's too much.” You beg him for something, what you are not even sure of. Your cries do nothing as he is clearly content to lave your chest for hours.

It isn’t until your hand goes for his sweatpants band that he releases your chest. He captures your hand swiftly and with no effort at all both of your wrists are held by one of his larger hands behind your back. “I want to make you feel good too.” You whimper as he manipulates you to standing on your knees.

He’s kissing your thighs lovingly and you're reminded of the game of truth or dare you played what seemed like ages ago. His voice is husky and deep with desire when he murmurs, “Trust me this is making me feel good.” He releases your wrists only to spread your thighs enough for his hands to manipulate the flesh there softly. You're so turned on at this point you can’t even see straight. Embarrassingly you can feel a drop of your arousal running down your thigh.

You can’t help but blush scarlet as with no hesitation he licks the trail it left up to your aching cunt. He pulls back just before reaching it only to admire your slick folds. You whimper as the heat of his breath caresses the outside of your labia.

“She’s so cute.” He mumbles leaning in and kissing you right on top of your clit. You squeal and place your hands over your mouth to try and keep quiet. His tongue is dancing all over your sex. Trying different motions and speeds, soft sucks and rougher thrusting. You're practically crying in pleasure, your thighs shaking as his tongue finds a steady rhythm that has you seeing heaven. His name becomes your mantra as your hands delve into his hair. Pushing him closer and trying to pull him back when you become over stimulated. Your legs are quivering uncontrollably as he holds you to his lips, his tongue now pushing against and under your clitorial hood. You don’t have time to warn him before you’re bucking against him an intense orgasm making you writhe and whimper, “Oh god Yuta, oh god.”

When you push him away this time he obliges. His mouth is shiny with your arousal, his eyes half lidded. Yuta’s face, a textbook example of what a pussy drunk man looks like. He’s giving you this small smile as you practically collapse into him totally wiped from your orgasm. He’s holding you while scooting back in bed. He’s still fully in his pajamas while you are totally debauched on top of him. As you try to regain your composure and teach your legs to go back to listening to basic commands you murmur, “Yuta, what the fuck was that.

He can’t help but laugh out loud at that. He leans down and kisses your sweaty forehead lightly. When he doesn’t respond other than to hum in acknowledgment you reference the truth or dare game, “I guess all those cunnlingus videos paid off..” The hand you have on his chest roams downwards. You find the light body hair of his happy trail and let your nails run over it. His breath catches as you go under his waistband. You’re not stopping until you feel his hard length in your hands.

His eyes clench shut as he lets out a hissing noise between his teeth. “You don’t have to ..” you’re not about to let him finish that sentence. You’re straddling his legs before he can say anything else and are pulling his sweatpants down enough so that his hard on is released. His pretty uncircumcised cock bobs up, the tip an angry red with beads of precum running down it. You lean forward and kiss the head while running a hand down his shaft. He’s average in size and it suits him beautifully. You stroke him to the base, tightening your hand just enough to vary the pressure, the sensations causing his thighs to tighten beneath you.

You give his tip a few experimental licks, his body shivers as he moans out your name. When you stroke one particular spot on the underside of his head his hips buck harshly as he gasps. You are addicted to how responsive he is and make sure to pay special attention to that area.

As your mouth gives his aching cock the attention it deserves, your hands move to rake your nails lightly down his thighs and pelvis. It doesn’t take long for him to be panting and whining. His head is thrown back, a sheen of sweat visible as his hands fist his covers. He’s the perfect size to deep throat not so long as to bruise you when trying to fit him in to his base. Without any warning your hot mouth covers the head of his cock completely. He’s letting out these adorable panting, Hah, hah, noises; as if that will help him last longer.

Your tongue flicks against the bottom side of his dick, running along a pulsing vein. You can’t help but watch his face while he writhes. His mouth is opened partially as gasps and sobs of ecstasy escape. You bob on his cock taking in a little more each time. His hazy eyes meet yours and you decide to devour him all the way to his base. Your nose nestles in his pubic hair as his eyes roll back into his head; he is totally overwhelmed with this intense reality.

This was nothing like using his hand. He didn’t know how he could go back after this. His tip hits the back of your throat and you swallow; the walls of your throat massaging him. You hum lightly the sound vibrating and providing a new sensation, “F-fuck Y/N, I think oh God.” You feel his member pulse and his pelvis tighten as he orgasms hard. Spurt after spurt of cum coats your throat as you try and swallow it all but you're surprised at just how much there is. Before he’s done it seeps around your lips making a messy pool of drool and cum slide down your chin and onto your chest.

As he tries to come down from his high you grace him with a few more kitten licks to the spot he seems to favor. The light caressing contact forces him to cry out and jerk from overstimulation. His face scrunched up in pleasure and ecstasy. Deciding to let him indulge in the orgasms afterglow you kissed his cock one last time before tucking him back into his sweatpants.

Yuta’s eyes are on you with reverence as if he found his new religion. He holds his hand out to you and pulls you towards him so you’re laying halfway under him. He leans into your gravity, his forehead touching your own and his nose nuzzling against yours. “Thank you.”

He utters this just loud enough for you to barely hear and you can’t help but laugh. “You're such a dork.”

Yuta reaches towards his desk to pull out some wet wipes and he gently cleans you off with a satisfied smile on his face. “As long as I get to be your dork.”

Once he’s cleaned you off and you’ve shared several slow paced kisses. You find yourself drowsing off to sleep, your head on his chest

[rumblebat]

2nd place was (one of my top favorites) Piccolo! The sexy Namekian himself! Please enjoy the story and look at the rating! >w<

rating: [MA-X] - for a mature audience cw: smut/nsfw, implied afab reader with gender neutral pronouns, implied reader is buzzed/tipsy, breeding, implied piccolo/king piccolo, language, slight yandere theme, very VERY horny Piccolo word count: 1,822

sneak peek: The Demon King glared down at you, grabbing you by the hair. "Speak up, bitch…I don't think I heard you."

x | x (you are here) | x | x | x | x | x | x

Zarbon waltzed over to you, nudging you out of your chair. With a faint grumble, you turned away from your conversation with Goku to the handsome green prince.

"Can I help you?" You asked, slightly annoyed. Your semi-buzzed state only seemed to heighten your senses. Everything seemed to annoy you more and more, and Zarbon only made it worse.

He made a disgusted face and rolled golden eyes, pointing a freshly manicured finger to the closet. "Your services are requested in the closet…(y/n)." He said, a slight hint of sass as he said your name.

You looked over, tilting your head. "Me? Tsk…whatever." You said, taking your nearly empty glass of booze and chugging it. Saying your goodbyes to Goku and the others, you made your way to the closet.

You grunted and bumbled inside, sucking your teeth as the door struck your backside. "It's too damn dark in here! Zarbon is such an ass…not even telling me who's in here." You mumbled to yourself, cursing at the emerald-haired man. Your hands trailed along the wall, at least trying to find a light switch or something. Instead, your dainty hands skimmed across a chiseled, yet soft, chest.

You quickly moved away and stumbled back, "Ah! Hello?!" You called out. The body that occupied the same space as you grunted. "Quit being so loud. You're giving me a headache."

'That voice…' You said to yourself. "Piccolo?" You asked, "What the hell are you doing in here…?" The Namekian didn't say anything. He stood quiet for a few minutes, pondering the next thing to say.

"Since I don't get out much, in Goku's terms. He wants me to try something out. Like…parties. Ugh.." Piccolo placed his back to the wall, slowly siding down to the floor. "I honestly don't get this. Why are two people in a dark room, let alone a closet? What the hell are we supposed to do? Strain our eyes?"

"Talk…maybe kiss. Fuck, even." You said bluntly. Hearing a slight choke coming from Piccolo made you giggle. "Not used to it huh?"

"Of course, I'm not! You think I go around and lounge in people's closets?"

"I'd let you!~" You cooed at him.

Piccolo blinked, evidently unimpressed with your usual reply. "You are a strange one. I knew you'd say something like that…" He chuckled to himself before creeping over to you. The atmosphere around you suddenly changed, becoming denser. Your breath caught in your throat. "Well…" Piccolo's voice was gruff, nearing your ear. "If we are supposed to do those things. Why don't we get started…?~"

You sat there, shocked, and quickly got kicked out of your daydream when a slimy, thick tongue scrapped across your neck. A hefty shiver rushed over your body. "You taste better than I thought…" Piccolo whispered. Your face was quickly heating up. The Namekian sat beside you, then grasped your waist. He firmly placed you on his lap. "I want to take my time with you." He huffed.

You felt like you were going to burst. This was all you ever wanted! Piccolo's trained hands slowly made their way up your shirt and to your chest. You let out a soft groan, feeling his calloused hands play with your sensitive buds. Your hips slowly started to grind on him. To your surprise, he was fully packing. Minus the gags you hear from Vegeta.

You heard him groan, causing you to grind harder onto him. With whatever liquid confidence you had, you leaned over and placed a lustful, drunken kiss on his lips. He groaned and pulled you closer to him. His usual cool body was burning up. Piccolo's eyes slowly started to fill with desire.

With a slightly aggravated grunt, Piccolo picked you up again and placed you on the floor. He mounted over you and leaned down, kissing you back deeply. He slowly started to place his hand into his bottoms, pulling out his well-endoubt member. You placed a hand on his chest, causing his attention to be focused mainly on you again.

"Am I…going too fast?" He huffs. You shook your head, reassuring him with a delicate stroke on his arm. You gently push him up onto his knees and stand up. He follows your lead, "Stand still for me and try not to be too loud, okay…~" He nods and tilts his head, feeling you get lower. "What are you doing (y/n)? - !!?" Piccolo grunted and nearly fell back on his knees.

You moaned as you slid Piccolo's member deeper into your mouth. He let out a low whine and placed a hand on your head. You closed your eyes and pulled back, but before you could fully move away. Piccolo growled and jammed his way back into your mouth.

You squealed and grabbed onto his gi bottoms. He panted heavily and bucked his hips into your face. "I'm…sorry, but I need this!" Piccolo gasps harder, moaning out loudly. You were gagging and gurgling for him to slow down but to no avail. He threw his head back and let out a deep, throaty moan. Your eyes slowly roll back.

The light that peeked from under the closet door, enhanced the thin layer of sweat that coated Piccolo. Your teary eyes watched in awe as he rode out his orgasm in your throat. After a few minutes, he pulled away. Hunching over you to support himself on the wall, he opened his eyes to stare down at you. "Alright…" he started, picking you up and placing you against the wall. "Why don't we get started for real?~"

Your breath quivered as he easily undid your pants. You quickly moved around in his muscular arms to help him. He only chuckled and exhaled, sensing your pheromones. You looked back up at him, your buzz was slowly fading but you didn't feel like you needed it. Piccolo's dark eyes leered upon you, only making you feel smaller than usual. His gaze was similar to a wolf's, longing as if he was hungry for something.

You wrapped your arms around him. Immediately, he pushed you more against the wall before he slid you down onto his throbbing cock.

You both groaned at the feeling. He grits his teeth, feeling as if he won't be able to fit inside of you. "You're..so damn tight!" He exclaimed. You whimpered under him, feeling too full to speak. Without hesitation, he vigorously pounded into you. You squealed out, covering your mouth. Piccolo was losing his cool quicker than he had hoped. His mind grew foggy. He didn't feel like himself. He felt more feral.

You could feel him in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut as he kept brutishly thrusting into you. When he stopped, your eyes slowly opened, and looked back at him. Piccolo's pupils were blown out. His chest heaved. You studied what you could of him in the dark. Before you got a word out, he swiftly positioned you on the ground.

"You make a monster out of me (y/n)…" The Namekian snarled, raising your legs higher. He nearly had you in a pretzel. Your knees easily touched your ears. He eyed you more and more, taking in every piece of you. "I could take you for all myself…I wouldn't let you see the light of day again…~ You could be all mine." He leaned back over you, caging you in the mating press. With a keen foresight, he jammed his cock back into you. You threw your head back and cried out his name.

Piccolo couldn't help but laugh, mercilessly hammering into you. Your g-spot was being beaten and bruised. "Prepare for a heavy pounding, human…I hope you don't mind - but I won't be going so easy on you anymore. Now that I know you can take my cock!" He huffed out, mewling and howling at the feeling. You were so wet and accepting, he needed more. He wanted to be in you forever.

Piccolo bit his lips and jolted, cumming quicker than expected. He pummeled you more and more, drooling at the slick feeling. Quickly, he sat up and adjusted himself. He held you down, propping himself on one knee while resting his arm on the other. Without leaving you, he easily placed you into doggy and quickly picked his pace back up. "I'm not letting a single drop of my cum leave you! And neither shall you, got it?" He asked sternly. The heavy claps for your skin contact nearly drove you wild. You couldn't answer until a firm smack across your ass woke you up. "Answer me. Now." He ordered. You whimpered more, tears practically coming from your eyes. You nodded your head and looked back at him. Piccolo hissed, feeling you get tighter as he slapped your rear.

He started to get more amped. Latching onto your hips with his nails, he continued the rapid onslaught. You wanted to wail out, scream for him to slow down, cry out the intensity of this. However, you couldn't help but melt with each thrust. The fact that he can send you to King Kai's planet and back then to Namek was crazy to you. Your insides started to burn up. "K-keep…hitting that spot!~" You panted out, trying to make your voice heard. The Demon King glared down at you, grabbing you by the hair. "Speak up, bitch…I don't think I heard you." You nearly came on the spot but roared out. "Make me cum!! Please! Let me cum!~"

Piccolo grew a wicked smile and chuckled darkly. Nearly putting you in a chokehold but still easing up for you to breathe, he clashed his hips to your ass harder than ever. "If that's the case, I'll happily oblige but say my name!" You were biting your lip so hard, you thought you were drawing blood. He snarled and used his other hand to pinch your hardened nipples. "Speak!"

He really did it now. His gruff voice, his larger body hugging onto you and the nonstop feeling of his dick tip kissing your cervix. You were quickly unraveling. "D-Demon King!~ Please fucking me harder!~ Make me c-cum!!~" He whined, riding out your orgasm. Your hips tried to match his pace but were shaking too much to keep up.

Piccolo on the other hand was a drooling, barking mess. He moaned out, feeling your walls tighten around him. "Oh..o-oh fuck! Fuck (y/n)!! That's it!~" He ruts himself as deep as he can go and cums, pumping you full of his hot seed. With each thrust, Piccolo's eyes looked down to see his seed spewing out from inside you. He grew hungry again as he watched a creamy ring around his cock form.

He placed his hand under your chin and pulled you back. He placed a deep kiss on your lips, sliding his thick purple tongue in; "You sure know how to treat a King…Let's see what else you're capable of.~"

**Please do not repost/claim/edit my stories story & title card by @rumblebat character(s) (c) Akira Toriyama tips + commission | wattpad

[rynnthefangirl]

You know, I saw some comments on TikTok that really flipped my opinion on how they did B&C. Because it really just perfectly showcases the Greens narcissism and incompetence. They started a war, they stole the throne, they murdered Rhaenyra’s son, and yet they act as though they are untouchable. As though this war is a quick thing that they will nip in the bud. Like look at the absurdity of the scenes framing B&C:

1. Aegon sitting on the throne, drunk with gang of lickspittle bros, joking and fantasizing about how glorious a king he is going to be. B&C walk right pass him on their way to murder his son, and he doesn’t even know.

2. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard fucking the Queen Dowager, walked in on by a traumatized and dissociated Helaena.

These are people who are so privileged, so entitled, so used to facing no consequences for their cruel actions, that they don’t even bother with the bare minimum protection, and two bumbling smallfolk are able to waltz right in and murder the heir to the throne. And the Greens are all too busy satisfying their own desires to do anything about it.

They started this war, and yet they are completely unprepared for what that means. Even after first blood was shed. Even after Lucerys died. Even knowing that Rhaenyra must be raging with grief and hatred, and that she has dragons, powerful allies, and the most feared man the realm on her side. They aren’t fighting a war or running a kingdom, they are just playing at it, an absurd facade. A perfect demonstration of the Greens hubris, entitlement, hypocrisy, and unworthiness.

Bravo, showrunners.

[forgeofthenine]

So let’s say the three tiefling bachelors s/o is a Drakewarden ranger and the Drake has taken a liking to them. What sort of shenanigans would the Drake and the bachelor tieflings get into? (My own head cannon is that the drake acts like a giant cat and doesn’t realize it’s too big for lap time now)

This was a fun little prompt to write, I just love these guys with various little pets tbh. Enjoy everyone, and expect some more headcanons tomorrow :)

The bachelors with their partners drake companion

Dammon

Dammon and the drake got on like a house on fire

He's the type of guy that every animal he meets just loves him, you know the type

As soon as you introduce the two Dammon is already treating the person sized, red drake as if it's his new puppy

You'll see him scratching it's chin or sneaking it food scraps from the table

It's hard keeping an eye on them both to make sure he isn't instilling any bad habits into your companion

After you've been out with your drake for the day you'll find it eagerly scrambles up the stairs to reach Dammons forge

Sometimes you even dare to think that Dammon might be more excited to see the drake than he is to see you

The both of them have their tails wagging in excitement at the reunion, and it would be endearing if your drake didn't knock over your lovers work equipment

These two can often be found snuggling on the couch, your drake dwarfing Dammon as he calls you over to join them

Zevlor

Zevlor is slightly unsure of your drake at first

It's a silver beast that towers over anyone, himself included, and he feels justified keeping it at arms length

He watches as the beast snuggles with you or happily letting you ride it's back as if it were a horse, and he starts to realise it isn't so bad

It's a slow process of getting them used to each other, your drake a bit too forward and Zevlor a bit overly cautious

You start with having Zevlor feeding your companion various treats, first having him throw them and working him up to hand feeding

Once he's a bit more comfortable the two actually get on quite well

If you're hanging around the house or otherwise occupied, you'll often find your drake trailing around behind Zevlor as he goes about his duties

The drake is quite the good helper, carrying buckets and equipment from place to place as Zevlor cares for all your other animals

Despite a slightly rocky start, the two end up being quite close friends

Rolan

Rolan and the drake have the worst start of the lot

He's very grumpy about having a 'big, bumbling beast' in his tower, but he bites his tongue because he loves you

The two generally try to avoid each other as much as possible to start with, they much prefer trying to find one on one time with you

Until you leave them both home alone one day

You get back to them having a truce and a budding friendship and neither will give you a clue how it happened

Rolan definitely takes advantage of having a new purple drake friend, afterall they're both scarier when together

He also thinks he's sneaky when he gives it quick forehead kisses if the drake is pouting and you look away

Definitely puts on a magic show or two for it if you leave the room entirely, he's always happy to show off to an adoring audience

And the best part is Rolan doesn't mind now every time your drake clambers onto the couch with you both and completely takes over any available lap space

[billerak]

Bumble that Bee or something idk

I recently finished RWBY (catching up after years leaving it aside) and I have thoughts and feelings and, as I am me, a lot of those are about the canonical WLW couple (sans the secondary wives in V6). So I put my thoughts into a rant. It's not as negative as the word 'rant' would have you believe but I don't wanna call it an essay or whatever. It's still pretty negative tho, so be warned. Anyways on with it:

RWBY is a mess.

Sometimes, it's a wonderful mess. Others, it's a terrible one.

I could spend a few paragraphs explaining what I mean, but I think anyone who watches RWBY with a critical eye knows what I'm getting at. Love RWBY, hate RWBY, just don't try to tell me it's good.

So, once that's established, let's get to the meat of this rant: Bumblebee.

Or should I say Fumblebee? Eh? EH?

Alright you can stop reading, have a good day.

Let me start by making a sharing something about myself: I'm Agender and Bi/Pan. I make a living out of writing yuri/gl/wlw or however you wanna call it. I watch entire seasonal fucking anime on the off chance it may be yuri and most of the time I hate myself for it by the end because they never fucking deliver.

All of this is to say, I like the concept of Bumblebee, the problem is it was treated like shit.

In this rant or whatever the fuck I should call it, I'm just going to talk about the things this ship makes me feel. As established I make a living out of writing romances like the one this show tried to depict—and in case you're wondering, I have written slowburns so slow the first romantic interactions between characters didn't happen until 300k words into a fic. I did it twice, fyi—so I believe I have fair grounds to judge this.

So let's tackle this from the beginning. Was it planned from the start?

No, I don't take the writers word for it. It's painfully apparent it's not the case. I'm fairly certain BlackSun was gonna be a thing until they decided to write him out of the story in V6. Or perhaps they decided on Bumblebee and so they wrote him out of the story. Either way, everything prior to V6 I call into question.

Sure, Blake and Yang have their moments. But it's important to point out they're not romantically coded. RWBY isn't subtle about romance, and it starts pulling the same sort of obvious romantic tropes as all the het stuff going on in the show for Bumblebee going into V7. Prior to that? Nothing. Not a single blush or any explicit show of romantic attraction.

And before any disingenuous bastard tries to say something like "oh but blushes aren't always romantic" or "no you don't need blushes to show romantic attraction" allow me to say you are fucking wrong. Blushing is the universal language for embarrassment or love related things. And RWBY uses this shit all the time. INCLUDING Bumblebee past V7.

So yeah, while the writers probably did draw from previous material—and I think the VA's shipped them since the start?—I do not believe this ship was planned from the beginning.

But that's ok! I don't think it's a huge issue, really. Sure I'd have liked to see actual development but I don't need it to work retroactively if it makes sense from the moment they decide to go for it. So, 3 volumes and a half of development. Lots of time to put in the work, add the details, and-

Oh, no. Wait. They spend most of V8 separated. Hmm. K' so, 2 volumes and a half-

Wait. Oh. Oh they… they really have that little screentime together in V6, huh. Wow. Just. Huh.

Ok, the Adam fight is good. It's a strong setup! After fighting and making up for what Blake did after the Fall of Beacon, they finally come together to beat the demon that drew them apart in the first place. They hold each other close after beating him and it's good and I'm gonna say this is when they both actually fall for each other. We can argue about budding feelings or whatever, but I mean this is the moment they become aware of it one way or another.

So Volume 7 has them kinda being together? Honestly, they act like a new couple. Which is weird in retrospect. I think revealing they'd started dating after V6 would have made more sense than, uh... pretending this was a slowburn? Through V7 they stick to each other and fight in perfect synch and blush and all of that romantic stuff. It feels like… well, like they're kind of already an item but the show has other shit to worry about atm.

Then v8 is amazing really. Split the characters over an honestly kind of nonsensical ideological split, keep them apart most of the season, make Yang to be kiiind of an asshole in that one conversation with Kyle (<- my name for the post-v7 Generic McGenericus haircut Jaune. Yes this unironical, the friend I ranted to about this while watching the show can confirm).

To add insult to injury, the split doesn't even accomplish anything for the ship. The only two characters that get development out of being apart are Ren and Nora. These characters were CLEARLY in love last season why are they not having appropriate amounts of angst over this? Like, at this point we're not arguing whether they were planning on making Bumblebee canon or not, the point is asking why it feels like they weren't trying.

And then, Volume 9. For some context, I like V9. I think I'm in a minority, at least in the places I frequent about this stuff. Always comes with the caveat of 'it's still RWBY', of course, but I appreciate it. After the initial whiplash, I think making a fairy-tale season for a show that was born out of the concept of "what if Red Riding Hood had a sick scythe and used it to mow down hundreds of bad wolves" is actually a really fucking good idea.

That being said, the way they do Bumblebee is really strange.

They're basically back to their V7 selves. It feels like they're either already dating or on the verge of dating. I need to stress just how comfortable they seem to be around each other with the sole exception of that one time Blake didn't grab Yang's hand, but it didn't feel particularly awkward.

Then BOOM mind storm thing and while Ruby, Weiss and Jaune talk about like, actual issues, Jaune implies Blake and Yang had 'something more important to deal with'. And that something is RWBY's version of the room you can't leave unless you have sex.

Sans the sex I guess.

In the void, I think the scene(s?) is good. It's nice, the music is evocative, it's well framed and paced. In another story, it would really have been a perfect climax for a budding relationship.

The problem is this is not another story. These two have NOT seemed like two people awkwardly in love too scared to tell it to each other. In fact, it kinda felt like the exact opposite. If they kissed at the end of any episode for any reason, at this point, it would've felt correct. A simple quiet stare while sitting close and them just finally leaning in to take that final step would've been just as good if not better.

The bridge thing? It's the climax to an arc that didn't happen. Relationships don't need to be slowburns for me to like them, but if you're gonna pretend you were making a slowburn, at least do it right. Why did they need the bridge thing to finally get together? Come on! There was plenty of opportunity during V9 prior to this episode to at least make a show of them being awkward. Make it clear they were finally on the verge but were holding back on the final step. Make it actually cause some conflict, preferably between them as their fear grows into uncertainty and doubts.

Then the bridge would've felt cathartic. Force them to resolve said conflict, and the only way to do it is through admitting their feelings. Sure, it would've still been few episodes, but fuck man I'm sure they could've scraped a few minutes here and there to make it somewhat competent.

I like Bumblebee as a concept. I think the avid fans of this ship look at the concept, not at what the show did, and say "this is canon" and run with it. I don't blame anyone who is a big fan of this ship but… I just can't like it in its current state. I'm sure there's fanfics that fix it, I may give some a read.

Hell, just compare Bumblebee's development to Renora. Those guys have been kind of obviously in love from second one and Nora's entire character being focused on Ren was made into an actual plot point by the end.

Anyways that's about it for bumblebee. Here's some extra thoughts on shipping in RWBY in general.

If we look at the earlier seasons, I honestly think you'd have a stronger argument to make for White Rose being a couple. If we look at the later seasons, Nuts n' Dolts has a stronger impact. I already mentioned it but Blake/Sun had obviously a thing going on that didn't pan out. I hope chameleon girl whose name I don't remember gets a gf at some point tho.

I pray to fucking god they're not building up fucking Oscar and Ruby cuz they had a few awkward scenes here and there and they make me feel wrong in all sorts of ways.

Given how little interaction Ruby and Weiss have had despite how much time they've supposedly spent together, I think the writers are making an active effort to discourage White Rose. I'm not gonna get into the author's self insert being a love interest for Weiss at one point but let's just say the writers seem invested in making extra-sure Weiss stays het. I've made my peace with that. And Penny is fucking dead again so Nuts n' Dolts is a no go (canonically I mean I may read a fanfic or two about them they're very cute).

If they're gonna give Ruby a relationship by the end (which I kinda hope they don't at this point), I think it should be Kyle. They've had nice moments together and seriously shipping Oscar with Ruby just feels fucking weird. Like I assume Ozma's gonna be fucking gone from Oscar's body by the end of this story but even then idk that guy had a centuries old man is his head, it's fucked up.

Anyways that's enough. Why did you read to the end? Thanks for reading anyways.

[kairiscorner]

ok, but imagine noir falling for a florist.

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <;:D)

i'd like to imagine noir would have visited your florist shop before, but never really stepped inside. he might've come across it multiple times, walked by it so often he never realized it was right there all along.

the moment he stepped in, he was entranced by how lively and colorful the place looked to him. since noir is probably colorblind or is just generally unaware which colors are which, he's so giddy when stepping inside your florist shop one day when he remembered it was aunt may's birthday.

he'd probably be staring at a bunch of marigolds and he'd inspect them closer and mutter to himself, "really outdid themselves with the purple". he might sneeze a lot around the flowers, but he didn't care, he was too entranced with how pretty the flowers were.

it wasn't until you came up to him, asking him if you could help him, that he was entranced with something, or rather, someone else--you. you weren't a flower, but all noir could be reminded of when he saw you for the first time was that you were a red rose bud, blooming in the shade.

how could he have missed you, such a beauty was hidden from his sight for... so, so long. the first thing he'd tell you when he saw you would probably have been, "...am i dead?" because the only time he'd ever witness someone with such ethereal beauty, in a haven of colors and sweet scents that, even if they tickle him to the point of allergies, he's feeling the happiest he's ever been in his whole damn life so far.

when you ask him if he's okay, he finally snaps out of his daze and, all fumbling and mumbling, he blurts out an, "i'm pretty, and you're really okay."

damn it.

he cringes a little at himself for that first, more than three word introduction. he purses his lips, and sighs to himself, with a small sneeze as he inhales the pollen again. you giggled, and when you giggled... he smiled, he smiled widely. he knew he was being a fool, a complete bumbling fool, right then and there--but you made him a happy, giddy, mushy mess of a bumbling fool.

he introduced himself to you as you helped him pick out a bouquet for aunt may. "you know, i'm really glad someone like you's helping me with this." he told you as he watched you pick all sorts of roses, carnations, and dahlias.

"how come?" you asked, turning to look at him in the eyes. he turned pink when you looked at him with your big, bright eyes--those eyes that any rational man would become a bumbling fool over. "well... i'm sure a pretty, lovely, and patient woman like you gets bouquets from guys that... don't lose themselves over your beauty in front of you." he confessed.

you giggled. "mr. parker, i hate to break it to you, but... i've never once had anyone gift me a bouquet." you admitted, looking down at the colorful array of flowers in front of you. "oh..." noir said as he looked at you, still picking flowers for aunt may's bouquet.

"wait right here." he said as he dashed off around the store. you were a little confused as to where he might've gone, but he was a grown man, and this was a small store, you didn't need to worry. not long after, noir came back with a sloppily made bouquet; the ribbon was the color of your hair, the flowers... they were all the color of your eyes.

"mr. parker..." you began, but noir handed them to you still, his gaze pointed away from you, because he was so incredibly flustered to be even doing this. "i believe that... a pretty, lovely, and patient woman such as you shouldn't have to... go without knowing she's absolutely stunning, perfect, even. you're perfect." he confessed, trying to keep his voice leveled, but his embarrassment got the best of him, and he mumbled the last bit out.

you smiled as you took the bouquet from him, admiring how some loose flowers that clashed with most of what he got you poked out a little. you chuckled as you looked up at the sweet man. "now, i can't really take any of these home, but..." you trailed off as you picked one of the flowers and tucked it behind his ear, getting on the tips of your toes to reach him.

"i'm very grateful for that, mr. parker." you said with a smile, a tinge of red on your cheeks. "no... problem." he said as he was getting redder and redder by the minute.

as you rung him up, noir couldn't stop staring and smiling at you. you smiled back at him. "hoping your aunt loves the bouquet." you tell him. "and i'm hoping i'll always see you everyday after this." he said with a small chuckle and a blush on his cheeks as he ran his fingers gently over the flower you tucked behind his ear.

[anarcho-catboyism]

I need y'all to understand that treating Fascists as bumbling nonhuman idiots is dangerous real fucking fast

Fascists are HUMANS. Fascists are humans with skills and intelligence and they use those to harm people.

Fascists can be your coworkers, your friends, your neighbors, your bosses, your parents, etc.

They are people who live with the same access to resources as most of us, sometimes with more access (police officers).

Fascists know how to doxx and avoid doxxing. Fascists often train in martial arts and in ways to harm people. Fascists put up stickers and graffiti, fascists evade police, fascists are actively finding ways to harm people.

Their ideology is abhorrent and needs to be ashes, but you cannot do that if you keep underestimating them. Trust me, if you continue to go about your day thinking "Fascists are dumb!" You will lull yourself into this false sense of safety and ignorance and it will knock you on your ass. Stop walking around with a big "I AM ANTIFA" shirt unless you're ready to possibly get hurt or even killed. Stop covering fascist stickers / posters / Graffiti / banners without checking out the area first to make sure they don't fucking follow you home. Wipe your images of Metadata so they don't find your location. Don't turn your backs to the fascists when you're countering them.

I get that we laugh at them and call them less intelligent or inhuman (which is fascistic in itself) to comfort ourselves but your coping will kill you. It's denialism.

Watching a proud boy vandalize a Walmart by destroy Bud Light is all fun and games until you realize "Oh yeah they're this violently angry because a trans person is on the can. They want to and will do this to trans people if given the chance".

Fascists are real people, with malicious fucking intentions, and if you at all want to stop them then you have to take them fucking seriously. While you laugh at them, they're organizing together and practicing fucking knife fights.

Get out there and take this seriously before it bites us in the ass. Because it will.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

this was supposed to be a Bucktommy focus version of this ficlet (Buck & TK owning a coffee shop and Tommy and Carlos being regular customers) but it turned into more of a first meeting AU thing. And it got kind of long.

---

"Before we start your grand tour of LA, I need coffee." Tommy said, greeting his new neighbour Carlos. The guy had moved in next door to him about a week ago, and after talking to him and finding out he'd barely made it to the end of their street yet, Tommy had offered to show him the city.

"Alright. Are there any good places around here?'

Tommy smiled.

"Yeah I know just the place."

They'd decided to take Tommy's car so Carlos could sit back and check out the city without having to deal with traffic.

He drove them to a coffee shop he'd discovered a few months ago. He'd taken a short cut to get to work because he'd been running late and a rainbow flag had caught his eye.

Apparently the place had just opened and Tommy had made a mental note to check it out when he had more time.

The first time he'd actually gone in, there had been a fairly cute guy behind the counter. Definitely attractive and apparently a huge flirt, but not exactly the kind of guy Tommy tended to go for.

Though he was only human and he enjoyed the attention. And it turned out the coffee wasn't bad either so he figured he could come back every now and then.

The second time he stopped there for coffee, the place was a lot busier than the first time and the flirty guy had apparently called in reinforcements. There was a second guy behind the counter this time.

Tommy watched him for a minute. He was serving up an order for a woman and a little girl and winked at the kid and told her he'd put extra whipped cream on her drink.

"You spoil her." the woman commented with a laugh and the guy just shrugged and smiled as he watched them leave.

And oh. That smile. He was adorable.

Though knowing his luck, the woman was his wife and the kid his daughter.

"Hey, what can I get you?"

"Uhm I uh... a coffee... please?" Tommy stammered.

Smooth Kinard, smooth.

"I can do that. What kind of coffee? We kind of have a lot of different kinds."

"Uh yeah... I uh... what's your speciality?"

"We kind of just opened... so we don't really have that yet... But I'm told I'm really good at guessing people's orders. Can I try with you?" The guy asked, getting excited.

"Oh... uh yeah... yeah sure."

The guy looked him up and down.

"Ok. I know just what to make you. Any allergies I should know about?"

"No... I uh... don't think so."

"Alright. Give me a few minutes and I'll have your drink ready for you." He grabbed a marker and a to go cup. "What's your name?"

"Uh Tom... Tommy."

"TomTommy?" the guy gave him a grin.

"Uh... just... Tommy..." he corrected himself. He wasn't usually this much of a bumbling idiot around cute guys.

The guy nodded and wrote Tommy's name on the cup before turning around to make his drink.

Tommy watched him work. Watched the way his muscles moved under his slightly too tight shirt. imagined for a moment what he might look like without that shirt, before shaking his head and reminding himself of the woman and little girl that had been there when he'd walked in.

"Ok, here it is." The guy set his cup on the counter. "Be honest."

Tommy was curious and carefully removed the lid, a habit he'd picked up in the army, where some of the guys loved to play pranks on people by putting something in their drinks, and took a sip.

"And?"

Tommy tried his best to keep a straight face while making himself swallow the absolute worst concoction his poor taste buds had ever had the misfortune of coming across.

"It's uhm... different..."

The guy's face fell.

"You don't like it."

"It's uhm... not what I usually go for."

"Sorry... I don't actually guess people's orders... I just wanted to impress you." the guy admitted with a sigh. "Just tell me what you do like and I'll make you that. On the house. And you won't have to pay for this either."

"You... wanted to impress... me?"

"Hmm... it's not every day a Greek god walks into my shop." He said with a shrug. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"I... I'm Italian actually. On my mother's side." Tommy's brain managed to come up with. He wanted to kick himself for being so awkward but the guy smiled at him so maybe it wasn't all bad.

"Well then I guess you're definitely used to better coffee than this."

"It's not that bad." Tommy lied but didn't make a move to take another sip.

"It's ok, you don't have to lie, I'm a big boy, I can handle it." the guy promised. "Just tell me what you do like and I'll make it. Latte? Americano? Ice coffee?"

Only before Tommy could reply, the little girl from before ran into the place and up to the counter.

"Uncle Buck! We lost mister snuggles!"

"Jee, inside voice please." the guy, uncle Buck apparently, told her after wincing and covering his ears in an overdramatic way.

"We lost mister snuggles." the girl repeated, at a more suitable for the environment volume.

"That's not good. Did you have it when you were in here with mommy?"

The girl nodded.

"I will look around and if I find him, I'll come bring him home to you myself tonight ok?"

Another nod.

"Where's mommy? You didn't run off without saying where you were going did you?"

As if on cue the door opened and the woman that had been with the girl earlier walked in.

"Mister snuggles disaster?" Buck asked her.

"Not anymore." she turned to the girl. "Auntie Hen just called to say you forgot him there, Jee. So let's go and get him and then go home. Daddy should be home from work by now. Say bye to uncle Buck."

The little girl reluctantly left with her mother and Tommy made a mental note of the use of the term uncle. Not his daughter then.

"Sorry about that. She's three and we haven't found her off button yet. Which is kind of my fault because that drink earlier was basically pure sugar. But normally that's her parents' problem." Buck joked. "Anyway, what can I get you that you will drink?"

Tommy smiled and felt his cheeks heat up as he put the cup on the counter.

"Just a latte is fine. I'm easy." He said and wanted to kick himself when he realised what he'd said. "I mean... for drinks. I'm easy to please for drinks. I uh... like simple things I guess. No fuss. Just... I'm going to stop talking now."

Buck laughed a little.

"One latte coming up." he said and made Tommy his drink. "Better?" he asked as he watched Tommy take a sip.

"Much. I mean the other stuff wasn't bad but... well..."

"it's fine." Buck waved his comment away. His coworker was busy helping other people but Buck didn't seem in any rush to move on to another customer.

And Tommy found that he really didn't want him to.

"So... Buck?" he asked after staring at the other man like an idiot for way too long.

"It's a nickname. Short for Buckley. My last name." he replied with a shrug.

Tommy nodded.

"And what's your first name?"

"It's uh... It's Evan."

"Evan Buckley." Tommy said, testing out the name. "Is it ok if I call you Evan? I think it suits you better than Buck."

Buck Evan smiled and ducked his head and Tommy swore he was blushing.

"Yeah... Yeah that would be ok."

That had been a few months ago, and the place had become Tommy's number 1 stop to get coffee. He'd wake up earlier than necessary so he'd have time to talk to Evan before he had to go to work, and on his days off he had to remind himself the cafe was Evan's place of work and he'd look like a stalker if he camped out at one of the tables the entire day.

They'd gone out on a couple of dates and after the last one they'd ended up in Tommy's bed together and he'd discovered making coffee wasn't the only skill Evan possessed.

He was pretty sure they were on the same page, but they hadn't officially defined them yet.

And maybe offering Carlos a tour of the city was the perfect excuse to go see Evan on his day off.

And then maybe invite him over for dinner. So he could ask him to be his boyfriend. As juvenile as it might sound, Tommy really wanted Evan to know he was serious about them, and didn't want either of them to date anyone else.

The place was a little too busy for Tommy's liking when he and Carlos walked in and he could see Evan do a double take when he noticed the two of them coming in together.

"Hey, Tommy right? What can I get you? The usual?" he asked and Tommy realised he was trying to stay professional for Carlos' sake.

He decided that wouldn't do and put on what he hoped to be his flirty voice and told Evan to surprise him. Judging by the grin on Evan's face it had the desired effect.

He briefly glanced at Carlos who was deciding what to order and talking to TK. Tommy figured he was in good hands and focused his attention on Evan.

"Busy day?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. "I've been telling everyone I know about this place. Even dragged my new neighbour over here by offering him a tour of the city. Looks like my work is starting to pay off."

Evan briefly glanced at Carlos before looking back to Tommy and smiling.

"And we appreciate it very much, I'll have to think of a good way to thank you." he leaned forward onto the counter. "How about coffee and something sweet?"

Tommy smiled and leaned closer too.

"I won't mind a little sweetness."

Evan laughed and pulled him to the side and briefly kissed him.

"I was hoping you'd do that." Tommy grinned. "I kind of like it when you do that."

"Good thing I like doing it too then." Evan replied. "You look nice today." he smoothed out non existing wrinkles in Tommy's shirt. "All this for a little sightseeing?"

"I'm just being friendly... are you jealous?"

"No... I just... would like to spend more time with my boyfriend when he's looking like this instead of him hanging out with another guy all day."

"Boyfriend?" Tommy asked, hopeful.

"I uh... yeah... I know we haven't really talked about... us... yet... but uhm... I'd like it... if you were my boyfriend."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... It's ok if you're not there yet or want to keep things more casual or..."

Tommy put two fingers under Evan's chin, tilted his face up, and softly kissed him to shut him up.

"I'd really like to be your boyfriend. If you'll be mine."

Evan looked at him with a dopey smile on his face.

"I... I yeah... yes... yours... ok... yes." he stammered and Tommy couldn't help himself and kissed him again.

"God you're adorable."

Evan blushed and mumbled something under his breath Tommy didn't quite catch, but was pretty sure it was something along the lines of "shut up" and "I'm not."

He decided to ignore it for now. He'd have plenty of time to convince Evan if he had anything to say about it. He squeezed Evan's hand to get him to look at him again.

"So my friend is getting married soon... And I kind of need a date..."

[bonefall]

can you tell us more about bb!shadowstar? I really liked her in dotc but I think that was because I read it years ago and my brain has ignored canon and made her my blorbo since then lmao

also dotc autocorrected to ditch and I think that’s where it belongs

She gets done SO dirty in canon OH my god.

BB!Shadowstar is a pious, quiet person who cares first and foremost about what's most beneficial to her cats, and her cats alone.

The Shadow Family is descended from Broken Shadow, who famously adopted The Tyrant and ruled by her side through the destruction of the Kinships.

With the lake poisoned and the ancient forest cut bald, it laid a curse on the family. All Shadow cats are born with pure black pelts. If they come without one, they are dead before their first moon.

Tall Shadow has lived her whole life with the curse of tyranny in mind. It defines her. She is both ambitious, and wants to rule through respect.

She cares immensely about the will of the Stars, and listens when they send a sign... though, she can still be guilty of interpreting their omens in a way that benefits her people.

She speaks with a LOT of "we" statements.

When Jagged Peak broke his leg and it didn't heal, it wasn't her idea to exile him. It was Clear Sky.

She didn't know how to feel about it, necessarily... it struck her as wrong, but he phrased it as fairness. "A cat who does not contribute cannot take. We can't make exceptions. He was broken for a reason."

When only Bright Storm returned, carrying a little kitten with a leg missing in the same spot Jagged Peak broke his, her stomach twisted in horror.

She was convinced, instantly, that Gray Wing had crafted that child. Xey had sent them a sign; what they'd done was cruel and unforgivable.

The first child of the forest, an echo of the first cat who died here.

From that day on, everything she did would be for the health and safety of ALL her cats. She would spend the rest of her life atoning for what she allowed to happen to Jagged Peak.

After a fight with Clear Sky because he rejected his child, Tall Shadow broke off her supporters. They didn't go to the Marsh at first, that happened slowly.

Their first camp was at Snakerocks, in the cave the dogs hid in many generations later. There's ochre drawings from them deep inside.

Her kindness only extended to her own cats, however. While she allowed Turtle Heart to bring Bumble to the group, she was clear that it was only on her vouch.

If Bumble couldn't learn to hunt then she would not be allowed to take. Clear Sky had still left a mark on her, and the whole Clan.

This wasn't a cruelty of herself alone; this was the agreement that the Clan had come to.

So when Turtle Heart died, they sent Bumble away. Thunder Storm returned from his time with Clear Sky. The rest is history.

But, when Thunder Storm and his cats came to ask for Bumble's kittens, Tall Shadow asked how she could know if they could care for them?

Part of her was legitimately concerned, and this was the part she put foward. Another part of her realized that the budding group could benefit her somehow.

She's not completely selfless, nor is she totally heartless. She's more influenced by Clear Sky's mindset than she realizes, but can take a stand when she feels it goes too far. Tall Shadow isn't above using people as chips to bargain, but stops short of putting them in danger.

Of all the leaders, she tends to play the most safe. Even Riverstar will stick his neck out for his ally Thunderstar on occasion, but Shadowstar needs to see something that could threaten her before making a move.

[forlorn-crows]

Mushy May Day 25: 'Adopting' a Stray Animal

Characters: Mountain, Cirrus, Dew, new animal friends

Words: 1073

behold, hank the raccoon lore!!

"Mountain,” Cirrus says warily. “That is a wild animal."

The earth ghoul remains unbothered. "He's my friend." 

"A friend with rabies, probably," Dew mutters, arms crossed protectively in front of his chest.

"Don't say that about Hank, that's rude."

"Hank?!"

"Can he not have a name?"

"It's not that he can't, it's–"

"Good," he doesn't wait for Cirrus to finish. "Because his name is Hank." 

The wild animal in question is a (rather fat) racoon currently bumbling about the greenhouse. Hank sits perched atop one of the worn benches munching on the remnants of a puffed cheese snack. Mountain reaches into the pocket of his work apron, producing another bright orange cheese ball and holding it palm-out for the raccoon to take. Hank chitters and plucks the snack from his hand, holding it between his paws as he munches.

"You just fed him a cheese ball," Dew deadpans, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"They're his favorite," Mountain replies. He pops a ball into his own mouth, crunching noisily. 

The fire ghoul scoffs. “Did he tell you that?”

“You think because I’m an earth ghoul I can talk to animals?”

Cirrus looks between Hank and Mountain, seriously contemplating the idea. “I mean . . .” Hank finishes the cheese ball and wipes his paws on his cheeks, leaving little neon orange crumbs in his whiskers. He flicks his tail and peers up at Cirrus, little black eyes shining with curiosity. 

He can only be described as round, which is nothing out of the ordinary for a raccoon, of course. There isn’t anything particularly distinguishable about him—standard wide black and white banded face framed by white whiskers, little bits of brown above the nose, tiny sharp fangs pointing past black lips, wiry double coat and matching banded tail, too-tiny paws. Standard, that is, save for the scarred tear in his left ear. It cuts through the center, splitting his ear into two tufts. He paws at it now as if to scratch Cirrus’ and Dew’s gaze off of him. 

The scar piqued Mountain’s interest the first time Hank came toddling up to him, chirping with curiosity at the snack he was scarfing down after a long day of work in the greenhouse. The snack in question was of the cheesy variety, of course: a tiny bag of white cheddar popcorn. 

“I see you eyeing my snack, little one,” he had said, stopping to let the raccoon brush up against his bare ankles. The animal let out a quiet chitter, staring pointedly at Mountain’s hand. His eyes had shone with a glimmer of mischief, too cute to resist. The earth ghoul sighed amusedly and tossed a few pieces of popcorn down to him. 

“Just a few; I’m sure you know there’s more nutritious snacks out here for you.” He couldn’t blame him for desiring processed snacks, though, they were pretty delicious. The raccoon had taken them happily, cradling each kernel between his tiny paws and munching away with delight. 

“Enjoy the treat,” Mountain trilled, reaching down to give him a tentative pet between the ears before returning to the abbey. Some may call it a mistake, but ultimately it was the start of a budding friendship between ghoul and raccoon.

Mountain started seeing him around more frequently, little eyes peeking at him from behind a tree trunk or the outcropping of rocks by the lake. He would never ignore the crinkle of a chip bag or the tasty aroma of freshly picked berries—but only ever when Mountain was alone. He felt a fondness grow for the creature, blooming to the point where he would stash a variant of cheese snack in his pockets any time he left the abbey, just in case his friend were to appear. 

Naming him had been the only logical next step. “Hm,” he had pondered, holding out another cheese ball to the raccoon as they sat in Mountain’s favorite forest clearing. “What do you think about . . . Bandit?”

The little thing hissed softly, baring his tiny fangs at the suggestion. “Okay, okay, no Bandit. Um. Little One?” He snorted and began grooming himself. “You don’t complain about the nickname,” Mountain grumbled. “Okay, what about . . . Cheddar? Since you like the cheese balls so much?”

The raccoon huffed and rammed his squat body into Mountain’s thigh, banging his hard head against his leg. “Ow!” Mountain yelped, rubbing his hand over the spot he rammed into. “Lucifer, you’re like a tank,” he complained. 

The raccoon had perked up at that, hopping onto Mountain’s lap and gazing up at him with those dark eyes. “Tank?” His scarred ear flicked in annoyance. He pawed at the earth ghoul’s stomach as if pleading with him to try again. “Uh, you like how it sounds? But not Tank?” The raccoon rubbed his cheek into his shirt in agreement. “Okay . . . um. Huh–Hank, then?”

He had given the most delighted scratchy squeal, flopping onto his back and snuggling further into Mountain’s lap. The earth ghoul laughed and gave him a scratch on his soft exposed tummy. “Hank it is, then.”

Mountain supposes that’s the closest he’s gotten to actually talking to animals. He says as much to Cirrus and Dew, who are currently looking at him skeptically. Somewhere in the midst of telling his story, he’s scooped up Hank into his arms, cuddling him like a baby or perhaps a small dog. His fluffy tail certainly wags like one, swishing along the earth ghoul’s forearm as he pets behind his ears. 

“So is the raccoon your . . .  pet, then?”

“He’s not my pet,” he sighs, letting Hank roll out of his arms and pad towards the open doorway. “He’s still a ‘wild animal,’ as you so kindly pointed out. But he’s my friend. And I like when he hangs around.”

“Well,” Cirrus chirps, “it’s kind of cute, I guess!”

“It’s fuckin’ weird,” Dew mutters.  

Before Mountain can form another defense, there’s a loud screech from the doorway, followed by a soft purring meow. The three turn towards the noise in time to see Hank scampering happily around an elegant white cat. 

“Ah, Juniper, lovely to see you this morning,” Mountain laughs, striding over to greet her. 

“Juniper?!”

“She wasn’t so vocal about her name.” Mountain stoops down to run his hand down her back. She closes her eyes and gives a loud purr in return. “Found her in a juniper bush one day. Hank’s really taken a liking to her, as you can see.”

Dew scoffs, shaking his head. "Earth ghouls . . ."