#doesn't want anything to do with it at all ever. which is not the case. he does like & want sex to some degree. and he's very sex positive.

[reasonsforhope]

Hey cactus! I wanna say I am really greatful for all the hopeful post cause it is really is a big relief to know good things still happen. I also am curious how far you go to do fact checking to see if something actually happened or gives a positive impact cause I personally have problems in doing that myself and would like to know your take on it. Again, thanks for everything and keep on fighthing :)

My fact-checking protocol is that whenever I use a new source, I vet them, primarily by checking their home page to see the focus/tone of their coverage, and more importantly, by running them through one of the best sites ever, Media Bias/Fact Check.

They do report on history of bias and history of accuracy in detail, with sources/examples, and run their own fact-checks regularly. They're a massive time/life-saver.

From their home page: "We are the most comprehensive media bias resource on the internet. There are currently 8600+ media sources, journalists, and politicians listed in our database and growing every day. Don’t be fooled by Questionable sources."

Other than that, I mainly go off context, sourcing, and level of specificity in the articles. I don't go through and check all of the sources of my sources, or anything, unless I genuinely want to read more. That said, I've been doing this for a while, am fairly caught up on science and politics. I also literally work as a freelance fact-checker, sometimes. So I'm pretty good at figuring out when something doesn't smell right and needs more verification. I also have a couple sources that I have mentally asterisked as "90% good, but double-check just in case."

Generally, the bigger and more impactful a claim is, the more I verify it.

I also appreciate when people post corrections and/or more info, which is usually in the notes. I wish I could say I've never posted anything that turned out to be untrue, but unfortunately that is not the case! On the rare occasion that happens, I generally delete the post and sometimes make a separate post about it, or reblog it with corrections, depending on how much the inaccuracy impacts the story as a whole.

[abrahamvanhelsings]

the hitch in van helsing's words when he says "i beseech you" im going to cry for real this time. it's not even simply that he knows how important it is that he gets arthur to trust him, that he's conscious of their duty to all living souls and lucy herself to do this to her and how difficult this will be physically and emotionally. it's that arthur now distrusts him, cries at him in anger - arthur, the man who looks like his lost son and whom he loves because of it. the man whose love and respect he may now never get back after suggesting mutilating lucy's corpse. he isn't just desperate for all the men in that room to trust him so they can give lucy peace and keep the living safe. that's the sacrifice of his father's heart splitting in two right there. wtf alan burgon.

[whirligiggler]

it's so fucking annoying when you just wanna read peoples' hcs about astarion being on the ace spectrum but you're pretty much only met with people insisting he can't be for whatever idiotic reason or people essentially saying to keep that hc to yourself because they don't like it and don't wanna hear it. like for fuck's sake you can't even be normal about a fictional person being *headcanoned* as ace? y'all suck so bad

[opia-jpg]

.

[sepiasys]

Me when

When

When the others are not allowed in front 😭

If they are they aren't alone and thus get heavily influenced or dont have full control or smth 🥺💔

[chastiefoul]

nanami kento is known to have a habit of crossing his legs when he sits. when he's reading, or just idly thinking. it's just something he does unconsciously, often time he doesn't even realize it himself.

yet this quickly changes after he got together with you.

now, everytime you come into the same room as him, the man quickly shifted his legs back to a regular position; you know, just in case you want to sit on lap.

fine, he wants you to sit atop of it.

this is all because he had the mistake─one he'll gladly do over and over, of experiencing it once.

the feeling of your body pressed so close against him while you ramble on about absolutely nothing, which he listens to intently with a smile on his face; his hand running along your hair ever so softly while he hums once or twice as response to your animated chatter.

and then you rested your head on his shoulder after getting a bit tired, your strands tickling his neck in the best way possible. his hands moved smoothly to your sides, rubbing up and down. all soothed and relaxed, nanami loves the sight of you being so comfortable near him.

you probably couldn't get closer to him more than this could you? he thought, as he held you tighter nonetheless. he felt content, whole.

so yeah, in short, nanami wants you to sit on his laps.

and with how fast he does it too there's no way you don't notice the subtle change of how he sits lately. yet you don't have the heart to point how obvious he was being, so most of the times you just indulged him, no questions asked. although it's not like it wasn't enjoyable for you, it was the opposite.

not to mention the smile he wears everytime you do it... it's enough to make your knees go weak. a smile you'd go to war for, a smile that's worth doing anything he's asking for.

it seems like nanami isn't the only one who has a new habit, then.

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[racefortheironthrone]

Hi- er, this is my first-ever writer's strike, how does one not cross a picket line in this context? I know how not to do it with things like Amazon and IRL strikes, but how does it apply to media/streaming?

Hi, this is a great question, because it allows me to write about the difference between honoring a picket line and a boycott. (This is reminding me of the labor history podcast project that's lain fallow in my drafts folder for some time now...) In its simplest formulation, the difference between a picket line and a boycott is that a picket line targets an employer at the point of production (which involves us as workers), whereas a boycott targets an employer at the point of consumption (which involves us as consumers).

So in the case of the WGA strike, this means that at any company that is being struck by the WGA - I've seen Netflix, Amazon, Apple, Disney, Warner Brothers Discovery, NBC, Paramount, and Sony mentioned, but there may be more (check the WGA website and social media for a comprehensive list) - you do not cross a picket line, whether physical or virtual. This means you do not take a meeting with them, even if its a pre-existing project, you do not take phone calls or texts or emails or Slacks from their executives, you do not pitch them on a spec script you've written, and most of all you do not answer any job application.

Because if this strike is like any strike since the dawn of time, you will see the employers put out ads for short-term contracts that will be very lucrative, generally above union scale - because what they're paying for in addition to your labor is you breaking the picket line and damaging the strike - to anyone willing to scab against their fellow workers. GIven that one of the main issues of the WGA are the proliferation of short-term "mini rooms" whereby employers are hiring teams of writers to work overtime for a very short period, to the point where they can only really do the basics (a series outline, some "broken stories," and some scripts) and then have the showrunner redo everything on their lonesome, while not paying writers long-term pay and benefits, I would imagine we're going to see a lot of scab contracts being offered for these mini rooms.

But for most of us, unless we're actively working as writers in Hollywood, most of that isn't going to be particularly relevant to our day-to-day working lives. If you're not a professional or aspiring Hollywood writer, the important thing to remember honoring the picket line doesn't mean the same thing as a boycott. WGA West hasn't called on anyone to stop going to the movies or watching tv/streaming or to cancel their streaming subscriptions or anything like that. If and when that happens, WGA will go to some lengths to publicize that ask - and you should absolutely honor it if you can - so there will be little in the way of ambiguity as to what's going on.

That being said, one of the things that has happened in the past in other strikes is that well-intentioned people get it into their heads to essentially declare wildcat (i.e, unofficial and unsanctioned) boycotts. This kind of stuff comes from a good place, someone wanting to do more to support the cause and wanting to avoid morally contaminating themselves by associating with a struck company, but it can have negative effects on the workers and their unions. Wildcat boycotts can harm workers by reducing back-end pay and benefits they get from shows if that stuff is tied to the show's performance, and wildcat boycotts can hurt unions by damaging negotiations with employers that may or may not be going on.

The important thing to remember with all of this is that the strike is about them, not us. Part of being a good ally is remembering to let the workers' voices be heard first and prioritizing being a good listener and following their lead, rather than prioritizing our feelings.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

[skrunksthatwunk]

so a thing that my brain does on the reg is it makes me get nervous about a scenario (ranging from probably-won't-happen to Definitely-Won't-Happen) and then i have to spend like 40 minutes meandering my way through an improv youtube apology video until my brain feels like I've addressed the scenario about as well as i can and lets me move on. usually this comes in the form of like

you accidentally said a forbidden slur (i.e. one i can't reclaim) while streaming/in a group conversation and now have to explain that your brain misfired catastrophically hard and that you've never said this word before (true) And You Have To Do It Well Enough To Be Believed

because like. i wouldn't believe that guy either, y'know? most people in that situation just cross that bridge when they get to it and do pretty bad, so maybe my brain is trying to help prepare me via interrogation. my point is that i spend a lotta my spare time pacing in my bathroom fending off theoretical murder charges (which are either phony OR true OR a secret third thing depending on the day).

as soon as i woke up this morning my brain gave me a new one:

what if people accuse you of faking your (middling) knowledge of french? and also you're a celebrity and have to prove it by speaking french live on a talk show or something.

which like. good morning to you too, brain. the first thing i did was (slowly, mediocrely) construct an appropriately indignant sentence in my head (i haven't used french since my ap exam like a month ago) and then

BUT WHAT IF PEOPLE THINK SOMEONE FED ME THE LINE

ok we'll have the audience write in questions live

WHAT IF THEY STILL THINK IT'S RIGGED AND ALSO WHAT IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE ASKING ((<- LIKELY AND UNCHARACTERISTICALLY ROOTED IN LIVED EXPERIENCE!!!)) WHICH WOULD PROBABLY MAKE IT WORSE

girl that's The Most i can do what do you want from me.

and then once i woke up more i had a realization in that blasted out, quiet way—like an astronaut drifting away from their ship untethered, forever. that

the prognosis of taking american public high school language courses is to remember jack shit (pardon my french). it's a classic babe it's near universal. we all know we don't know.

Babygirl, (And I Cannot Express This Enough,) No One Is Ever Going To Make You Speak French Live In ~5-40 Years To Prove You Took It In High School. Go Back To Sleep. there's only like two scenarios you can think of ever where that happens and there's like a 70+% chance you can just say no or ignore it. what a weird thing to fake in the first place too who would even accuse you of that.

anyway sometimes being a citizen of Braintown is funny and not exhausting in a kind of sad clown way but it's usually just kind of awful. something something c'est la vie

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, violence/abuse, threat of bodily harm

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes again…

They’re both so patronizing – suffocatingly so. 

But where one is a brute, the other is sweet – or sweeter than the former, in any case...

He has a certain calm about him – gentle with you – considerate when showing his affection, and patient with you when he’s intimate. He doesn’t growl at you to shut up and lie still the way the other one does – instead, he asks you if you can be good for him – if you can let him love you – lipping at your throat without the touch of teeth as he all but begs for your consent.

The brute doesn't bother with such foreplay...

Your will doesn’t seem to interest him in any other aspect than ripping it from you and strangling it in his fist with a big grin, laughing while watching those pitiful tears start slipping down your cheeks.

He'll just shrug off the kinder one when he chides, telling him to stop being so rough with you. He just squeezes you a little tighter, sucks your neck a little harder, and kneads his cock a little deeper – saying that he can do whatever he wants with that which belongs to him.

When you struggle against him, he’s not shy of punishing you accordingly – in fact, he jumps at the opportunity – bending you over his lap with his fist riddled in your hair – landing strike after strike until you’re screaming in surrender, all cute pleas for his mercy, words he’s told you to say. 

He likes fucking you like that – when you’re a broken mess who only clings to him for comfort, crying into his neck while he pumps you full of cock and cum.

The kinder one scolds him afterward. Tells him he’s a fiend while petting your head and hair, carrying you away from the scene and into the bathroom. He draws you a tub of bubbles and holds a glass of water to your lips. But for all his niceties – he still gets in the hot water with you – cock in your sore hole while he washes your hair.

Still, he’s more reasonable.

When he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost like every night of you sleeping stuck in between them, you ask him if it’s really necessary – promising him you’re not going to run away – telling him that you’re going to stay right there, peacefully asleep.

The brute says that it isn’t something that’s up for discussion, that if you push your luck, he’s gonna tie every inch of you up like a floppy fish caught in a net ready to be gutted. But you don’t heed the warning – looking to your kinder warden with puppy eyes and a pout on your lips, saying please, it hurts your wrists – again, promising him you’ll be good and stay sound asleep between them the entire night.

You just needed to get to the door. 

You just needed to get to the door – through the door – out into the street, screaming while at it, and surely someone, anyone, would come to your rescue. 

Why wouldn't your feet move quicker? Why weren’t you faster? Why were you clumsier now? Tripping over rugs, missing steps when scrambling down the stairs, slipping when turning corners – trying to navigate the house when you’d barely ever seen anything but the bedroom.

You just needed to get to the door – but you could hear one of them coming after you – just behind you – big monstrous thundering steps shaking you to the core, strangling your heart, shattering your bones – and it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel anything other than the numbing fear and the awful way it cripples you – throwing your mind into a tailspin while choking your lungs free of all air, clawing up your throat into a scream. 

You just needed to get to the fucking door –

You hadn't known you could make a sound like that – like something out of a horror movie – high-pitched and desperate – ripped from somewhere raw and primal.

There’s a hand in your hair, yanking you backward where you’re received by a hard chest and an arm snaking around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, kicking and yelling.

It’s the brute. He looks almost happy you’d tried running away – a manic look of delight on his face when he finally drops you down on the floor – pinning you beneath him – shadowing you with teeth seemingly dripping with venom and all the ugly punishments he’s no doubt cooking up inside his sick mind.

“Your ass is gettin’ it extra fuckin’ hard tonight – my handprint won’t heal for a month – won’t even be able to sit down without cryin’.” He growls, his teeth on your cheek as he grips your jaw tight – starting off your punishment with a harsh lovebite.

You look at the more merciful of the two. 

He’s standing off to the side, looking down at the two of you. 

You expect he’d come to the rescue like he’d done all those other times.

But to your utter horror… he isn’t lifting a single finger to stop it. 

His face is blank – cold – as cold as the words that roll dryly off his tongue, “I think we’ve established that spanking isn’t enough…” 

The one holding you down halts in his advances and seems to get just as frigid as you by the cold-blooded tone of his partner – who takes slow steps toward the two of you, so close he’s got your hair pinned beneath his toes before crouching down until he as well looms over you like a darkening storm.

He reaches a stiff hand to soothe the ring of teeth left on your cheek by the other – seemingly kindly, but his eyes are so jaded your breath catches in your throat – soulless as they stare into your teary ones.

“Maybe we ought to get ahead of the issue and break your legs.” He suggests nonchalantly, making both your and your other captor’s faces bleach.

Then he smiles – that kind smile, only now you can’t help but flinch at the sight of it. 

“That way, everyone’s happy,” He states, explaining, “You won't have to be tied up, and we can trust you to keep your word and stay put when you promise us you will.”

Then he stands up and straightens himself, looking at his partner with that same eerie smile.

“Where’d you put the bat again?”

The brute stiffens. His crazed expression had melted in light of the other into a look you’d never seen on him before. He swallows thickly as though he’s just as worried as you are. His voice is hesitant, “I think rope is enough…” 

The other throws his brows up. “Oh?” Then he snaps his focus back to you. “What do you think, baby? You think that’s enough?” He walks back to the two of you, and you feel the intense urge to hide behind the one you’d initially been caught running from.

He looks down at you expectantly, watching your lip quiver as you struggle to form an answer without choking on it.

“Hm? What was that? Rope or bat, what do you prefer?” His voice is sharp, licking at you like a knife.

You stutter, “Ro-rope.”

“Yeah? Okay, then – that’s settled.” He confirms, then looks back at the other. “Go get the rope.”

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave – almost like he’s afraid of what might happen if he does. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes, now.” The smile tightens – sharpens into something truly lethal if you were to test it. “Our pet thinks they can run wild, so we’ll have to reintroduce them to the leash.”

Then he sets his sights back on you, robbing you of all air.

“Unless you’d prefer the bat after all?”

You whimper, shaking your head with a sniffle, “No-no – rope…”

He looks back to the other. “You heard 'em. Get going.”

He’s reluctant about it – looking from you to him, then back to you again, almost apologetically – before he gets up off you, leaving you on the floor – alone.

Your hair is then grabbed harshly, and you’re pulled up to your feet before you’re dragged off them – pulled along until you’re tugged from the floor up onto his lap as he plopped down, comfortably seated on the couch.

He sighs, letting go of your hair and placing both hands on the fat of your haunches, making you straddle him – mirroring your breathless, tear-streaked face with an expressionless one.

A hand ascends, and you’re convinced he’s going to slap you – but as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in wait for it, his hand finds your cheek, only to ever-so-gently pet the wet away.

Cupping your face, he places a light peck on the corner of your mouth, followed by his voice, “Apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes peel open, looking back into his. You regret it instantly. Still eclipsed, it’s a cold and blank stare that seems to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never- never ever do it again.” You whisper pitifully – as if you’re afraid to be too loud.

“Hm…” He hums, looking unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s good enough…” 

His hand slips from your face down your neck, circling it lightly before squeezing it firmly with whitening knuckles. “You hurt my feelings, y’know? I trusted you, and you lied to me – right to my fucking face.”

You cack, wrapping your smaller hands around his wrist as he strangles the words out of you. “I’m sorry- I’m really- really sorry-”

His breathing is thick, as though something’s bubbling underneath the surface – a beast within whose bloodthirst hasn’t yet been sated. “I want more than empty words.” He states flatly, unforgivingly.

Still, he lets go of your throat, letting you drop to his chest, panting sore breaths with his words ringing hot in your head. You start kissing between sipping for air – desperately, up his neck and jaw, then his lips, even though he doesn’t kiss back – pleading, “Please forgive me- I’m sorry, I-”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He mocks, stroking the back of your head, down your back as though soothing you – voice dripping with fake empathy. “Sorry for what exactly? Hm? For being a dumb little bitch, thinking you could run when you haven’t even so much as walked on your own two feet for months.”

A laugh inches into his words like a sickness. The eerie smile returns, small and curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You were fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?” He breathes lightly – eyes wide, staring at you like cornered prey. “Trippin’ over yer own two feet, barely even making it to the door.”

The grip around your throat returns, and you squeak out a whimper.

“Say it.” He seethes, “Say you’re a dumb little bitch who didn’t know what you were doing.” His lips ghost yours with the command, forcing you to echo the words back into his mouth.

“I’m- I’m a dumb little bitch- I’m- I didn’t know what I was doing-” 

He hums at your shivering but doesn’t ease his grip – molding his lips against yours, he kisses you deeply until parting with your lips between his teeth – letting go slowly.

“I- I’ll be good from now on, I promise-” You add – in the hope it would thaw the ice of his stare.

It doesn’t. He keeps them just as jaded – half-masted now as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, brushing your chin and cheek with his lips until blowing on your ear. “You better be.”

You shudder, wincing.

“‘Cause if you ever try anything like that again, I’m gonna go get that bat – and nothing and no one is gonna keep me from bashing away at you until I’ve made certain you can’t lift a single fucking finger without my help.”

You’re a broken mess of sniveling apologies and prayers on his lap by the time the brute comes back with the rope. 

But the one who’d reduced you to it doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

“There you are!” He beams with a bright smile.

Acting as though you weren’t falling apart in his arms, gripping his shirt for purchase while sobbing hard and ugly into his chest. 

“Let’s tie every square inch of 'em up like you suggested.” He muses while picking your tear-stained face up in both hands, nose-kissing you with his words dripping fondly off his tongue. “Just like a floppy fish ready to be gutted.”

BNHA – BakuDeku, DabiHawks, EndMight, ShinKami, TodoDeku, KiriBaku, Shiggy x villain!Deku

JJK – SatoSugu, YujiKuna, YujiGumi

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo, KuniGiri

AOT - EreMin

DS - InoTan, DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu

[thehauntedetheral]

hi, how are you doing? If is not a bother can you make a yandere ex fuckboy x insecure reader, she is insecure of his past and the girls he used to stay with before they start dating and is terrified of him cheating on her, that bothers the yandere a lot and he goes to the extreme to prove to her that he doesn't want anyone else.

Hello I am doing well and hope you are doing well too. I hope you like this work.

Yandere Ex Fuckboy X Insecure Reader

Requests are open!

• You were always on edge thinking that your boyfriend is with some other girl cheating on you when he is not with you.

• You love your boyfriend a lot. And he has been an amazing boyfriend to you all the time being caring, protective, sweet, understanding towards you. But his past. His past always haunts you and makes you feel insecure.

• In the past before you two got into the relationship yan was the Fuckboy of your college. Girls always surrounding him and being attracted to him like a moth to a flame as he was tall, good looking, rich and extremely good in bed with his smooth as butter flirting skills and charming personality.

• Some even say that he slept with more than half of the girls in campus.

• But after meeting you this man gets changed for forever. He has never felt something so strong like this for anyone ever.

• He tries his best to court you. Begging to you on his knees to make him your boyfriend. This man becomes a simp when it comes to you.

• But you ignored him knowing his infamous Fuckboy image.

• To get your attention he follows you around like a lost puppy, Spoiling you with flowers, meals, coffee anything you want just please let him be your boyfriend and let him love you.

• Frustrated by his constant chaos you finally give him a chance and say yes.

• He tries his best to be the best boyfriend for you not wanting to disappoint you on the chance you have given him. And true to his words he is a really good boyfriend to you.

• You don't know that this is the first relationship yan ever had. Yes he slept around a lot but never dated anyone. You are the first.

• When he gets to know his love, his darling is feeling insecure due to his past he does all the possible ways to show you that he belongs only to you and no one.

• Wearing tshirts which have things like this written all over it " My girlfriend is hotter than you" or "I love my girlfriend" while walking around the campus showing everyone. If his tshirt doesn't have this written on it then it definitely will be a photo of you printed all over his tshirt.

• Wears the handmade bracelet you made for him 24/7 not taking it off ever.

• Always wears your hair ties on his wrist in case you need it and to show people he is already taken by his beautiful girlfriend.

• Is one of the best player of the college's football team and whenever he earns a goal during the matches he dedicates his goals to you pointing at you and screaming "I love you y/n" infront of the whole crowd.

• By the way he changes his jersey number to your birthday date number showing his jersey back to everyone.

• When a girl from his past approaches him he straight up says "I have a beautiful girlfriend whom I love to death so please leave"

• This man is so in love, committed and loyal to you that it's sickly disgusting for others to watch.

• Everyone thinks you have done some kind of witchcraft on him because he has suddenly became the most loving boyfriend for you from the college's Fuckboy.

• This man would do anything for you to never be insecure again that he would even say this "We can get engaged or even better married if it puts your mind to an ease y/n."

Meanwhile reader : "........"

• This man would kill himself before even thinking about cheating on you and hurting you. The thought of some another girl other than you now makes him nauseous let alone even think about touching them.

• Yan is utterly whipped and in love with you. He would even bring the fucking world infront of your knees if you want.

Let me know what you think about this fic.

Requests are open !

For more yandere reading

[beeing1alive]

Turning on Tokyo Revengers boys without knowing it pt.1

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija)

Warning: Nsfw content, minors do not interact

Mikey:

can't help but get a hard-on when he sees you sitting on his motorbike

especially when it's summer and you're wearing short clothes

his gaze veils slightly, he draws the air through his teeth slightly and watches every movement you make

i'm not going to lie, he's never got hard so fast

Without hesitation, he ran over to you and sat on his motorbike with you, just to kiss you a little more intimately than he wanted to

you can always tell if he's Horney when he kisses you extremely kinky in public

Draken:

Gets hard the fastest when you wear his clothes

I think we can all agree when I say that he has a size kink

I mean, he just can't help it when he sees you in his clothes, which are obviously way too big for you

especially when you're wearing one of his shirts and otherwise just a pair of panties

his eyes would darken slightly and he would slowly move towards you to tell you that he has a big little problem in his trousers and that you could help him with it

Mitsuya:

jealousy turns him on immensely

I mean, I know he doesn't look it so much, but he gets rock hard in seconds when he sees you talking to another boy for a little too long

a chiselled smile appears on his handsome face and he tries as hard as he can to hide the ever-growing and pulsating bulge in his trousers, which he manages to do quite well

as soon as you and the boy are ready, he pulls you behind him, gently but firmly

the moment you arrive in a quiet corner, you are his

Baji:

nothing turns him on more than seeing you in a leadership position

I mean, when you assert yourself and do all those leader things

he'll sit still, his eyes veil slightly and he watches every little move you make

I'm not even lying when I say that he just sits there and a slight, barely noticeable blush spreads across his face as he notices his trousers getting tighter in a matter of seconds

Chifuyu:

gets hard within a few seconds if he sees you in short clothes

for example, shorts and a revealing shirt

he is just too innocent and would blush extremely and in rare cases get a nosebleed too

if he feels confident enough, he'll snuggle up to you from behind so you can feel his hard boner pressed against your bum, which doesn't make it any better for him

he'll gently give you a sweet kiss on the neck and tell you that you know how much it turns him on when you wear revealing clothes

Kazutora:

turns him on most of the time when you're sitting or lying on his lap

the first few times this happened, he was very uncomfortable because you felt it directly when he got hard and he can't hide it

when he's feeling very horny, he tries to move his hips against your bum to create friction

if you're also wearing short clothes, he'll almost come in his trousers at the slightest touch

I mean, that divine view of you, in short clothes, on his lap, pressed against his hard cock

he just can't help it, so don't be angry with him

Here is pt.2

Attention: The characters and the GIF do not belong to me. The credits go to the original owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please contact me.

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[wolfiesmoon]

The greatest gift

it's the most wonderful time of the year as they like to say so how about you recieve the best gift from santa on top of that 😈

this is suggestive perhaps??

Characters featured: mikey, hanma, baji, mitsuya

₊˚⊹♡ Mikey

You were joking when you asked for "Mikey" for christmas. You thought Hina and Emma knew you were joking.

So why the hell was Mikey currently tied up with a christmas ribbon and sitting under the christmas tree in your house, staring back at you with a slight smile?

"Merry christmas."

"I- HUH?!" you quickly covered your mouth, not wanting to be too loud at midnight. "Mikey, why are you in my house?" you whisper yelled.

"Emma and Hina jumped me." was his comically simple response. Well, it would be comically simple if Mikey didn't scare the living crap out of you just a few moments ago.

"That- That doesn't explain anything!" at this point, you've given up with trying to be quiet.

"I can't tell you anything more. I have no idea what's happening either."

"How are you so calm about this anyways?" you walked closer to him, inspecting the tag on the ribbon that said "Merry christmas from Emma and Hina".

"Now that I think of it, it is pretty weird to be kidnapped by your sister."

You're not even going to ask how they managed to get him in here without the keys.

"Well, uhhh... how about I unwrap you...?" you offered awkwardly after a small silence.

"Are you sure you want to do that? You'll unleash the true present by doing that." something... strange flashed behind his dark eyes.

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. ♡"

₊˚⊹♡ Hanma

"Merry christmas. ♡" you froze at the sound of his voice.

You were woken up by some weird noise downstairs, quietly walking down to investigate the source. You even took a knife from the kitchen just in case.

But instead of a robber or kidnapper, what you found was Hanma Shuji tied up in a big red ribbon. Smiling at you.

"Don't you merry christmas me." you didn't know what to say or do. You were scared out of your mind just now and that combined with the strange sight in front of you made you at a loss of... anything, really.

"Woah, that's a big knife... What were you going to do with that?˜" he sounded more amused than anything.

"You little... I don't... What is even happening?" you dropped the knife on the ground.

"Someone told me that you want 'Hanma Shuji' for christmas."

"Well, you know what I thought I was going to get for christmas? Kidnapped, that's what!" you yelled, not even caring about how loud you are right now.

"Hahahah, how amusing!" he laughed, seeming very satisfied.

"You won't be saying that after the things I will do to you. You know you can't escape when you're tied up, right?" a smirk crossed your face suddenly. A sense of boldness overtook you.

"Oooh, aren't you bold. ♡" his smile only widened.

₊˚⊹♡ Baji

"No way." you had to do a double take when you saw what you thought you saw.

Turns out this christmas is more interesting than you thought it would be. A present from Toman ended up being Baji Keisuke in the flesh.

"Mmmf!" he's probably telling you to free him right now, which admittedly, is hard to do when your mouth is gagged.

"Wow, this is like, the best present I ever got. I gotta thank the boys later." you walked closer to him, kneeling down and inspecting him in all his tied up glory.

Baji looked half angry half embarrased, and honestly that just made you want to tease him more. You kissed his cheek, smiling cheekily.

"Hmmf..." you laughed a little at his face.

"Mmmf! Hmmm!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'll let you out. But that doesn't mean that I'm done with you just yet." you smiled, taking the bow of the ribbon into your hands to untie it.

"Mmm..?!"

₊˚⊹♡ Mitsuya

"Me and Mana have a surprise for you." Luna ran up to you all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you placed your hands on your knees to get closer to Luna's height.

"Wait till christmas." that was Luna's only response before running off to continue playing with Mana.

"Hmmm..." you hummed, a bit confused.

.

"Was this... Luna and Mana's gift?" you looked at the comically large christmas present under the tree. What in the world did those two give you?

You carefully removed the lid of the box, worried about the contents. Only to find Mitsuya inside.

"I- What the hell?" Luna and Mana sure are some evil children.

"I don't know either. Hakkai approached me just now and said "sorry" before wrapping me up and putting me in this box with no further explanation." his eyes never left yours.

"I think I know who's idea this was..." you stepped inside the box, sitting directly across from him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your little sisters told me something about a surprise for christmas..."

"Oh my god. That explains... a lot." he looked as if he just made a big realisation. You couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight.

You pecked his lips all of a sudden, making him jump slightly. "Tell them thank you later."

"Shouldn't you be thanking them?" he smiled.

"No, I'm sure you'll be the one thanking them tommorow." His eyes widened at your mischevious smirk.

an early christmas present for my mikey, hanma, baji and mitsuya babes 💕

i want to make sure yall are well fed with that christmas dinner this year

[himbosandhardwear]

Eddie scans the room, looking for who or what he's not sure, just keeping his eyes peeled for something interesting. It's Saturday night, a packed house, some of the usual suspects but some new faces too.

One in particular stands out, especially considering his Sears Catalog attire and artfully tousled hair.

There's something about his loose body language that draws Eddie's eye. He's out of place but he doesn't act out of place. Eddie can respect it.

Unfortunately, when their eyes meet, he gets a kicked gut reaction that makes it clear this guy is off limits. The guy looks away immediately, probably thinks Eddie is more likely to pickpocket him than buy him a drink. Oh well. No great loss, he didn't come to get laid anyway.

He makes his way to the bar, gets a shot of Jack and a Miller Lite and waits. Teddy will probably show up before too long, maybe they can bar hop. He sips his beer and looks around some more, noting the older Mexican lady who runs the flower stand on the corner. You wouldn't guess it just by looking at her but she can drink anyone in the place under the table. He should really get her name.

Sears Catalog has moved to a table on the right side of the room, standing with a presumed girlfriend. Their heads are bent close together. He looks up and catches Eddie staring. They both look away again. He's really gotta stop doing that before he gets hate-crimed. It's a known problem, his type being untouchable preppy boys. He's sure if a shrink studied him, they would say it was because he didn't think he was worthy of love, or some shit, but he can't help it. The straighter, the meaner, the cleaner cut, the more Eddie falls all over himself. It’s a miracle he ever gets laid. Thankfully there’s always closet cases. He swore to himself he wasn't going to do that anymore though, he needs to have some self-respect, not let asshole jocks use him and drop him the second an emotion is displayed.

“That outfit is hideous.”

Eddie jolts in his seat. He finds Sears Catalog smirking at him like what he's said is the height of wit.

Eddie wastes no time pouring the rest of his beer over the guy's head.

He stares back at Eddie in shock, almost hurt. Fuck him. He doesn't care, he's not letting some dumbass gymrat hone his bullying skills on him. Not today.

The guy's girlfriend jogs over with a handful of napkins, which is when Eddie splits.

“I told you not to use that line!” He hears her exclaim. Eddie stops in his tracks.

“But…but...he didn't even let me get to the good part,��� Sears laments. Eddie can't turn back around, he's frozen in place.

“Yeah, dingus, because it's a stupid fucking line. I'm sorry you had to find out like this but not every guy who makes eye contact with you wants to fuck you.”

“I know that! I just thought… I don't know. Let's just get out of here.”

He sounds so defeated. Eddie did that. He assumed the worst and reacted accordingly. Like an asshole. Like a bully.

They're halfway to the door when Eddie's feet unstick themselves from the floor. He rushes to intercept.

“What was the rest of the line?” He shouts.

Sears turns, eyes wide, unsure.

His…friend? Looks Eddie over, unimpressed. “What's it to you?”

He winces. “Just…uh…I guess I thought you should know, some of the guys who make eye contact do want to fuck you, they're just too stupid to realize they're being hit on.”

Sears and Mean Friend make their own eye contact. Mostly ‘Beat it' and ‘Are you serious?’ and ‘Yes, oh my god, please go.’

Eddie respects their bond.

Once Mean Friend has sufficiently rolled her eyes and threatened Eddie with bodily harm should anything worse than beer befall her friend, she stalks off into the night.

“You should take it off.”

“Huh?” Eddie responds, stupidly.

Sears smiles. “That's the rest of the line. ‘Your outfit is hideous. You should take it off.’”

Fuck, it really is a terrible line. Something a middle aged creep would use. If he'd waited long enough to hear it the first time it would've made him laugh though, which would have broken the ice.

“Awful. Zero out of ten,” he says while grinning. “Looks like you already offended one guy.” He looks at Sears’ wet shirt, appreciating his own handiwork.

“I'll keep workshopping.” His hand comes up slowly, like Eddie might react badly again. “Steve.”

It's his honor and privilege to clasp Steve's hand in his own.

“Eddie. And can I say, your outfit looks great. It would look better on my floor.”

Steve practically twinkles at him. “Stop, I'm already a sure thing.”

He uses the hand still in his grasp to pull Eddie forward and smash their lips together.

When their grandkids ask how they got together, Eddie is going to have to lie.