#dunno first time doing commissions

[royaltea000]

Would you rather have a twink dad or lesbian daughter

[talkorsomething]

Actually i feel like my voice goals are not that unreasonable since the people i get jealous of the most really are my age or older

......

Well, reasonable though they may be, realistic is another matter

[iplayghoul]

let the light in

xx: cowboys! eren & onyankopon x reader . .

9.9k words — life on a ranch, porn with plot, tension, feelings, eventual sex, fucking in.. mud & rain, reader is referred to as 'she', 'girlie' etc, use of 'daddy', lots of spit & being dirty, reader is a country bumpkin, light arguing, thumb in ass, pussy spanking, spitroasting, cunnilingus, crying, some squirting & creaming, lots of shortened words & punctuation (country dialect duhh), not proof read sorry, awkward moments.

notes: been writin dis since december 2023... enjoy u guys :] rbgs appreciated

“hiya mrs. brown!”

worn out boots of marble cake pink and brown swirls, graze the dirtied gravel near the elderly woman's cottage as you slip from the horse. mary-lou, you affectionately call her, dusting her pinked moist nose with a pat before hobbling onto the stone path. over the horizon, the pastel orange and yellows of the sun threaten to melt into your skin, kissing it golden as the morning begins and so do your deliveries. 

golden-blonde, french curl braids woven into your roots fall past your lower back ending in thick, loose curls, some held together by bows and others hair clips. they bounced with every step. mrs. brown was the first on your list of deliveries today. on cool mornings like this when spring teases its approach, you often bake little treats for the other villagers. apple tarts, blueberry jellies, cherry pies with freshly picked fruits, warm buttery honey-milk breads and healthy breakfast muffins: all made with ingredients grown at home! but, we'll explore the garden later.

calling this a village was a bit of a stretch, realistically, a happy delusion at most. acres of farm property was shared by each of the residents whose homes were nearby, despite the farm areas creating distances of land behind them. tok, tok, tok! the haste below mary-lou's hooves pulled you back to your task as you rearranged the goodies and stepped onto the wooden plank. mrs. brown sat atop her rocking chair, crocheting a blanket you'd commissioned. a chuckle, “ [  ] , dearest, always in y’head, aren't yuh?” mrs. brown softly muttered, deep brown skin crumpled besides her lips, short pastel curls tickling her ears. hands busied with the neapolitan coloured yarn. her countryside twang was a pleasant aerated tone, reminding you of your own parents. 

you huff and offer a smile. “mrs. brown I've—”, “must I remind you, dearest, eleonora,” the playfulness in her voice offers it a quiver. “and let me guess . . . cherry pie?” thin, quivering lips stretch to a smile, your plump ones mimic hers as you nod with a sweetened expression. “yes, eleonora, I know how much y’love cherry pies n’–”, “and my grandson does too, y'know!” you stop to stare at her as she wears nothing but a smug look on her face, her head bobbing side to side with a ‘you know damn well’ manner. 

eleonora lived mostly alone. when her daughter married, giving her a sole grandson they'd moved to the city. luckily for her, and you, her grandson moved back on his own to the country. he fixed cars, motorcycles, tractors– you name it, he's got it covered. she said his name was onyankopon or, ony’. to be honest, you spied around one time to catch a glimpse of him. back when you first moved in and eleonora became immediately smitten with the idea of you and her grandson as potential lovers, you snuck around where ony's ranch was, peaking at who the man could be. you barely saw him really, the small flash of him you saw all greasy with engine oil was so far away! but infatuation always grew in you from a small bud, slowly growing before flower petals started spilling out your throat.

“are ya’ stoppin by him too, darlin’?” she pries further, “I ‘dunno els’ . . . y'know I haven't actually met ‘em right?”, “oh I know dear,'' she breathes, “ he's strong, he's tall, he surely is handy ‘round the house and- and he's not ‘onna dem toxic masculine things i hear ‘bout on the Internet! I think he's had a boyfrien’ b'fore, that must count!” she relieves your hands of the heavy treats while speaking, “eleonora . . .”, “c'mon darlin’, you've got t'get married someday, n’ imma’ be the flower gal!” 

all you can do is shake your head and accept the sweet kiss to the cheek she offers you before trotting back to your horse. mary-lou grew rather impatient! settling her brown and white spotted body to the ground awaiting your return. to be completely honest, you craved love. the partying, sex and relationships of college got old and moving here right after left you high and dry with the weight of ‘unlovable’ bearing down on your shoulders. the lack of men your age was . . . a troublesome dilemma but who were you to complain? you hiked yourself back onto mary-lou and continued your journey to the next cottage home. 

looking over the blueberry skies and whipped cream clouds kept you in grandiose delusions of a love so pure and sweet, like powdered sugar that you could indulge in, maybe one day.

♡

“down girl, down!” 

The rough, deep voice shakes the silence near the upcoming ranch. after your deliveries, you'd end up with a few apple-cherry tarts remaining, sometimes the neighbours are vacationing in the city, or insist you keep some! by this time, the sun shone fully now, its warmth tingling your skin. “awe, shucks, man!” another voice caused your brows to furrow, peering up ahead at the ranch . . . the one in which eleonora's grandson resided. from what you could see without the sun in your eyes, two men of tall statures– roughhousing with gorgeous horses. the one in the cowboy's hat was doing a terrible job of trying to calm one of them. their manes were a beautiful silky white, shining healthily under the sun as they lifted their front legs to the air before trotting around the . . . shirtless men again. mother would scold you now if she could see you openly ogling at the two, you push that thought to the back of your mind.

mary-lou slows on your command beside their ranch gate, huffing and happily shaking out her mane as she watches the other horses play. something possesses you to hop off with the remaining tarts, awkwardly shuffling to the fence– your pink-brown boots were worn mismatched to your strapless white lace top and similar mini-skirt. “uh . . . howdy there fellas!” both men turned to your direction, blocking their eyes from the sun and beginning to stroll over.

the closer view made your breath catch in your throat. the one on the left, you assume is el's grandson, his skin was a dark mahogany brown, he glistened slightly with sweat in the sun, deeply defined muscles prelude veins below his belly button then covered by bright blue jeans and black cowboy boots to match his hat.

he had a handsome face. 

thick two-toned lips spread to reveal a bright smile, a few teeth plated with gold caps as he teased the man to his right. this man had dark, black, shining curls that rested atop his shoulders, two eyebrow slits decorated with piercings, matching ones on his . . . pretty lips. his skin was a dusted tan, sunkissed tone and he wore black jeans atop his brown boots. You couldn't miss the tattoos that crept up the side of his abdominals, you were curious.

“how c'n we help ya’, miss?” the left spoke up and your cheeks felt hot, it's been a while since you heard that pet name, you chalked it up to the blazing sun. “well, uh, you're eleonora's grandson, right?” you nibble on your nails nervously, he nods, “I just . . . thought it’d be nice to give y'all these extra treats i baked.” pushing the basket in their direction and allowing the dark haired one to peep under the cloth, he had a mischievous look to him and he elbowed the other in the ribs with a slick smile, “wass ya’ name, pretty? ‘m eren, dis is ony’,” he pointed between them, “ n’ y’made these y’self, ma’?” eren pulls out a tart, staring down at you through long eyelashes, “oh! uh I‘m [  ], n’ yes! I did n' I grew all'em fruits m'self too!” you bounce on the heels of your boots, nervously.

ony’ stays mostly quiet you've noticed, taking in your outfit as well, his eyes raking over you. eren warmly feeds him a bite of the tart as their horses trot over to mingle with mary-lou. “how long ya’ been livin’ ‘round here, sugar?” ony’ speaks up soft and mellow, grabbing himself his own tart to taste. eren reaches out to pet mary-lou. “i guess it’s been a about a year now! y’see i moved out ‘round here after college.” you nibbled your shiney bottom lip, “what ‘bout y’all? your grandma talks ‘bout you all the time, but, i ain’t really seen you round here?” you turn to eren who makes a kissy face at mary-lou before turning to you. “i mostly tend to the farm ma’, as y’can tell, ‘m better with the animals than ony’ here.” he flashes you a smile and props his arms against the fence biting his lip and lowering closer to your eye level. ony’ playfully smacks his arm, flashing a gorgeous smile with his gold teeth sparkling in the sun, “shut up, man.”

you look away quickly, catching yourself staring at his lips, he certainly doesn't miss it. you totally push the basket towards eren’s arms, “y’c’n have the basket y’know i always weave more, i’ve gotta get goin, now,” you rush, “wait– take m’ number, pretty,” eren offers before reciting it a couple times so you’ve got it down. “n’ which onna’ these ranches ‘s yours, mama?”, you're mounting mary-lou once more, “it's not too far! it's the ranch with the blue fence n’ the pond out front!” 

♡

the days after that remained uneventful, with no deliveries of any kind, you preferred to remain on the ranch tending to the animals and house work. you'd never texted eren, only saved his number and stalked his contact profile . . . and opened his chat section many-a-times without saying anything. taking a liking to someone new is hard. you don't forget the many times a partner toyed with you, assuming innocence and naivity of you based soley off your appearance, then doing whatever they'd wanted behind your back. you were past that now, hopefully at least; the concrete walls you used to block others out wasn't something you'd liked to be reminded of.

padding out the back door, the coldness of the stone path chills beneath your bare feet. your toes painted with the cutest design within your artistic range, accompanied by the musical arrangement of your anklet. you pick up a dirtied bucket with the many things you'd needed to complete your chores for the morning, taking a long look at the expanse of the ranch. 

a deep breath of clean air, healthy green fields relieve your eyes of their stress; partly cloudy skies was the forecast! weather for hanging outside, the cumulus clouds indicated it to be the perfect day for fishing too! the pond was still, the little lambs were just waking up in their pen, the gardenias were blooming; the white dexter cattle mulled around, seemingly bored behind the fence. just as you begin to walk by with the bucket of feed, the cows behind let out soft, deep ‘mooooo’s’: a ‘good morning!’ greeting in their own way. each receiving gentle pets to their fur.

your mental list of duties was shorter today: pet the cattle, inspect the lambs & brush their fur, throw feed for the chickens & clean their coupes, feed the dogs, feed the fish.

you couldn't help but wear your best little dress to do the tasks today, a simple white thing that cupped your breasts just right. “oh, how are ya’ buttercup!” you squealed in delight as the silky white wolf dog rushed up to lick your feet, his opposite onyx counterpart, bentley offered a short bark to show her delight, sitting peacefully and obediently. she'd recently fallen pregnant with pups, confusing as you'd given both animals the proper precautionary procedures! while filling their food bowls, you couldn't help but be reminded of eren and ony’. your toes dug into the grass a bit, excited at the idea of . . . sharing your home with someone else again. both men seemed pleasant, highly attractive, but feelings always confused you. perhaps they were only being decent human beings to you, nothing more.

to be honest, you hadn't had the best history with relationships. it's part of– it's one of the main reasons you'd decided to move out to the countryside. casual sex was fine, yeah, whatever, you enjoyed it. however, when it comes to your relationships, you refuse to believe you attract shitty people. from making fun of how excited your are by things, to the way you dressed, wore your makeup, your hair, how you cry— the whole works had been used against you. there was only so much of it you could handle. moving away meant . . . fresh start, new people, new experiences. and most importantly, a place where everyone did as they pleased. as much as people think gossip goes around in small villages, the country area was mostly pleasant. neighbours traded crops for items, enjoyed each other's company and minded their own business.

sitting beside the pond, bentley and buttercup eagerly cuddled up at your side; the joy this life brought you was comparable to hot chocolate at the end of a winter day. now you think about how long its been since you could cuddle someone on a cold day. it probably hasn't been since your mother was alive. now was a good time to visit eleonora.

♡

a raspberry lemon loaf warmed your hands as the weather began to cool. the trudge to eleonora's ranch was tranquil, pleasant animals, butterflies and chirping birds kept you occupied for most of it. that is, until your boots dragged to a stop in the dirt, noticing a familiar face in el's front yard. 

onyankopon's hair was short, brushed into smooth waves atop his head and faded on the sides, revealed by the lack of cowboy hat. he was shirtless, once again, knee deep in the dirt of his grandmother's yard where he dug the soil for new plants. you swallow, nibbling a plump lip that made your mouth spring from the strawberry flavoured gloss. a colder breeze blew up under your thighs, blowing your simple little dress slightly; furrowing your brows with concern as you peered at the beautiful bright sky, you force yourself to walk up to the gate and begin to unlatch it. 

eren's grassy green eyes meet you first, his hands busily feeding a plump cherry into his mouth. pretty pink lips sucked them in, unwelcoming to the juicy red droplets that escaped the cherry. he licks his lips to pull them in. you take a deep breath and focus on not dropping the raspberry lemon loaf. “h-hiya everybody!” you greet, noticing eleonora seated in her usual spot on the rocking chair of her porch while observing the two men. 

you hold the loaf somewhat close to you and swallow hard, walking along the stone path of which both men were at either side of. ony’ in the dirt and eren manspreading on the front steps. you held eyes with the ground. “howdy ony’, eren, nice to see you two ‘gain,” you say in a pleasant mumble as you make way up the stairs to eleonora. “brought you this raspberry lemon loaf els’!” you look at her smiling slightly, caught off guard by that signature smug look she held. what insane thoughts about your love life could she be brewing now? the silence from the two men was noticeable too, you were sure they'd turn to look at you as you presented the treat for el’, “my, my! well doesn't this just look lovely!” she claps clammy hands clad in flower themed rings and laughs jolly. “ony’, son, could you get us some tissues n’ forks? oh- n’ eren darlin’ why don't you bring out the pitcher ‘f lemonade with s'm glasses.” the two men stand as she calls upon them, uttering out their deep ‘yes ma'am's’ as they towered above you in walking by. your eyes trailed them slightly before turning back to eleonora who never (not once) misses your silent pining.

ony’ wore his jeans low on his waist, the band of his boxers showed off its maker's name. eren, on the other hand, wore a white wife-beater below unbuckled blue overalls, leaving them hanging over at his waist. “so, have ya’ found y'self a boyfren’, honey?” eleanora asks somewhat loudly as the two men shuffle around the kitchen bearby and your eye widen. “now what kinda’ question is that els’?” you sputtered, “you know I haven't got one.” eleonora giggles like a school girl. you take a cool seat onto the steps. eren and ony’ share small smiles as they return with lemonade and dishes. ony’ takes a seat in a chair opposite eleonora, elevated above you whilst eren makes himself comfortable back in his spot across from you on the steps. raspberry lemon loaf is shared around with the cool glasses of not-too-sweet lemonade to wash it down, eating brought silence besides low groans from the two men who seemed to enjoy your baking. their groans were not sensual, but pressing your thighs together was still a must as a reaction to the unexpected sounds of pleasure. fuck, you felt like a creep. eleonora complimented your skills, asking, “[  ] , did ya’ grow these in the box gardens y'made?” you nod and swallow quickly, all attention to you as eren mumbles ‘box garden?'. ``yea els’, the box gardens ar’ doin’ great, but I've got some extra wood around I think I'mma try to make a few more like the boxes I bought from the market!” eleonora smiles as if she were expecting to hear you randomly bring up your recycling duties. 

“ony’, can't you n’ eren build those boxes f’[  ]? I strongly believe lil’ ol’ her shouldn't handle all dat’ wood . . .” you internally blush deeply at the innuendo and take the final bite of your slice of the loaf. eren speaks up, “y'sure right on we can, els’ . . . y'okay wit’ us helpin’ y'out ma?” he takes a quick glance up at ony, locking eyes with him who also lets his stare above you burn into your scalp. “s– sure, I don't mind!” you mutter out lightly and eleonora gives a jolly clap, “well ain't that just darlin’! the day's young, y'all can get started right now!” you have to hold your breath to avoid your last sip of lemonade going down your larynx. the two men mentioned how they're not busy the rest of the day and wouldn't mind before you can even collect yourself. somehow, coming over to eleonora always results in you being roped into another scheme of hers.

and just like that, you found yourself on a quiet . . . and awkward walk back to your ranch with the two young men following closely behind you. anxiety bubbled in your stomach, clamping your lips shut to avoid letting the insecure feeling from escaping your lips. the nerves were getting to you with every second that passed by. “s-so, uh– wassup wit y'all ‘round here?” they both walk up to match your pace. “oh, well, ony here prefers to do all the technical shit like– fixin’ cars n’ all'at.” eren shoves his palms into the pockets of his overalls, walking up ahead where he could look back at the two of you while talking, he maintains glances with onyankopon that you just don't seem to understand. “I prefer to stay on the ranch n’ watch the animals– y'got any besides that horsie?” 

“oh– yea i've got m’ horse, mary-lou, two wolfies: bentley n’ buttercup.” a sweet smile stretches on your face, tummy warming a bit. “oh! and I've got names f'all my fish in the pond, my little lambs– oh they're just the cutest! a–and my fluffy cows! they're lovely,” you clasp your hands in excitement, eyes following your footsteps, sputtering happily over the animals. “gosh, n’ I'm tryin’ out a little butterfly area in my front garden, but m’ not the best at it, can’t tame butterflies y’know— they pee on ya’ too! that's fuckin’ crazy,” you reveal with a giggle. as you look up to ask the two a question, you can't help but blush, embarrassingly at that. eren and ony stared at you with pleasant smiles, deeply dimpled too. “oh my, m’ sorry for my ramblin’ how rude of me–”,��no. no, keep talkin’ pretty.” ony's deep voice encourages you and you peer curiously at him: trying to figure him out. he turns away from you licking his lips and spares eren a look before he starts walking again. it urges you both to continue onto the ranch as well, eren shakes his head with a chuckle; he thinks he’s got a handful on his hands. 

“y’got a boyfren’ ‘round here, [  ] ?” eren brushes hair over his shoulders, asking the question calmly whilst maintaining a look up the path, ony’s arm brushed yours as he walked close by. “well– no, what about you?” you melt your lips together before stuttering out,”wait, not– i mean, girlfriend . . . well– i don’t care–!” ony barks out a laugh while eren turns around to give you a bright smile, all three of you burst into giggles. “nah, no girlfren’ or boyfren’, ma’.” ony speaks up gently, “but, uh– me n’ E’ might be lookin’ for a third to make us official, i dunno.” your eyes widen but ony gives a nonchalant shrug, handsome face glowing with a smug smile like he didn't just drop #thebomb on you. it reminded you of his grandmother, you look to eren who’s looking back at you and onyankopon with just a slight grin and your breath catches in your throat. “oh! there’s the ranch just up ahead,” you blurt out and skip past eren, scurrying over to unlatch the gate to your front garden as the two followed you in.

now your heart felt like it could melt. like– like a huge strawberry ready to burst! what did ony’ mean by that?  oh, how you felt like a dizzy little dove. luckily the dogs rushed up to you, excitable and ready to meet the new visitors who they eagerly sniffed. ony’ and eren were happy to roughhouse on sight laughing with the dogs and complimenting the patch of primula's you were trying to grow, the pretty pinki-ish flowers were just beautiful. you lead them through your home, overly conscious about each step you took while they surely eyed every nook and cranny of your decor. “um- y'guys need anything? I've got some snacks . . .”, “nah, we're good,” eren mumbled, sounding obviously distracted by their nosey observations of your living space. you hear the tone of your dryer going off just as you unlatch the netted back door that served as another layer next to the already opened wooden one. 

“holy shit,” ony’ whispered, your organization of the backyard was impeccable. clean and solid fencing around the cows, plants on the left with storage on the other. you left the two to walk out into the cold breeze that passed by as they observe the surroundings and the pile of wood waiting for them; all while you quickly rushed to the laundry room nearby to dislodge your clothing and stuff them into a basket. you hurry back out to join them.

“so, here's one of the other boxes i made,” you gesture to the dirty box filled with planted Spanish thyme, “i know it looks kinda wonky but, hopefully you guys can do better,” you offer an awkward laugh and sit on the back steps, legs crossed. 

eren and onyankopon share a look, then grab some planks bringing them more into your line of view with some of the tools nearby and sitting in the grass. even in your own home, you felt a little out of place. in silence, eren and ony’ shared alot of chemistry you didn't understand. despite this, what ony’ said on the way here never left your mind. “y'guys got alot ‘f experience . . . relationship-wise?” you scratch behind your ear. they worked separately lining up wood and nailing them into place, muscles working diligently. “mm, yea. ‘guess y'can say that ma',” eren glances at ony who hums low and offers you a small smile.

“it's jus’ that– ‘m thinkin’ ‘bout watchu said earlier . . .” you blink, fumbling, “unless that was like a joke ‘r somethin’—”

“i wasn't joking.” onyankopon confirms calmly, his jaw tight. you allow the silence to continue for a few beats, eyes flickering back and forth between the two and your hands petting the dogs that came to lay beside you. “we don't expect ya’ to jus’ trust us like that, missy,” eren offers gently, shoving his curls into a small bun and you nibble your bottom lip. 

ony's brows furrow and he's hammering the last few nails into his box before he speaks up. “how c'n we get to know you ma’? me n’ E’ been . . . chillin’ for over a year. since college, actually, n’ we been watchin’ y'too. w’dont expect you to feel the way we do in 10 minutes or even in a day. let us get t'know you.” you squint a little.

“y'serious?” your chest feels a little hot and you're praying to the gods you don't fuck this up. “c's i don't intend on gettin played wit’ ‘specially not out here, y’hear me?” and you don't mean to raise your voice a little, the sounds just flow out. “hey, hey now,” eren pushes his finished work aside and stands, tugging his overalls up, hands resting on his hips. “we don't got no bad intentions, sugar, chill wit’ us,” and you blink up at him, unmoved.

“m'kay, let's just say i decided to ‘chill’ wit’ y'guys,” you stand up, fold your arms and start, “what exactly are we g'nna do, hm?” you look back and forth between them, not missing the way your buttercup whines on the steps where she lay, evidently fed up with all the chatter. “y'got 3 seconds n’ don't say sex. one,” 

“who said anythin’ ‘bout sex?” ony’ joins you two as he puts the tools down, “two,” “yea, y'better shut that shit up. let's bake sumn together, show us around y'day, hang wit’ us at our ranch, talk about shit. fuck y’mean sex?” you stubbornly stay silent and stare. eren’s jaw bone pokes out with the way he clenches it. “we're not lookin’ for sex. if we wanted sex from you we coulda seduced you a long time ago, sugar,” he shrugs with a smile and you lick your lips, sighing. “okay, ‘m sorry. I’–I'm such a bad host,” you mutter out, “y'all want anything to eat? or some water.” you hear a low ‘okay’ from ony’ so you shuffle away to the kitchen to grab some bottles for them.

you tried to focus on the coldness of the bottles on the way back as a way to cool your temperament. “i moved out here wit’ intention ‘f startin’ fresh n’ shit.” you start, tossing them bottles before plopping yourself beside buttercup who nuzzled her cold nose into your thigh. the two men were sitting once again, evidently having spoken to each other in your absence.

your voice was shaky as you took a deep breath, garnering the courage to speak up for how you felt, “i'm tired of gettin’ dogged out, n’ played wit’ n’ allat bullshit.” you pout.

“‘m not exactly sure how gettin’ involved wit’ two handsom’ fellas is gonna help me figure out to– to i dunno, regulate m’ emotions.” you frown and shove some braids back behind your ear, “s’ like i damn near avoided it– i moved back t’the country damnit.” a sigh, “i cant just figure out how to adore n’ love– people again or if i'mma be able t'dish it out as much as before.”

“you get what i mean?” your ramble ceased as you finally look up from your focus on your knees and look back and forth between ony and eren. ony chuckles softly while eren offers you a smile and speaks up.

“we'll take it slow, you'n gotta ‘love’ anybody yet, mama,” ony nods at his words, “gotta build a friendship wit'chu first, we not playin’ ‘round.” 

♡

a week or so passes in which life goes by as normal. you spend your days busying yourself with gardening and grooming your animals, baking treats and new concoctions. the only exception is eren and onyankopon have somehow easily squeezed themselves into your life.

on your deliveries you hear, “howdy, ma',” they chase across their lawn and hop across the fence to drag you inside and sit you down in the warm house where the two eagerly pester you to try the . . . ‘shrimp alfredo’ they whipped up. 

thus, the two would end up in your kitchen, breathing over your hair whilst you instructed them on the proper technique. “naw, i don’ told E to do all'at,” onyankopon protests. so too do they pester mary-lou and your dogs, roughhousing and giving them baths much to their dismay.

through many experiences you learn, onyankopon isn't particularly fond of being tickled, or of wearing shirts. he stays shirtless almost all twenty-four hours of the day and you can only avert your eyes. eren is obsessed with overalls and has an array of them: gray ones, distressed ones, short ones, and he never buckles them properly.. on the ranch, the two gorgeous white haired horses were named armin and reiner, two friends they shared from college. sparkling like diamonds as you're given the opportunity to ride them each around the boys’ ranch in the golden sun. you'd also learned that the two were sexually . . . fluid, they'd called it. vaguely, they'd mentioned their sex lives and based on what they said you couldn't help but assume they were talking about each other. who else was there out here except you?

“yeeehaw! can't catch up, can'ya’?” eren howls and shouts as he trots across the ranch on his horse, ony lagging behind in the chase. here you sat on a wooden little bench near the steps of ony' and eren's ranch; clad in a simple white cropped tank and blue jeans with a chunky belt, your cream coloured cowboy hat sit pretty atop your head. a pretty calico cat licked at your bare feet and nudged you for pets. 

at this point, you felt yourself slipping. it was obvious by now you'd grown to enjoy each other's company and serious conversations were imminent.

what were we, how will the dynamics work, what would they expect from you? just then you felt a tap to your forehead.

“heya, girlie,” eren squats down before you to grab your attention, “watchu, thinkin’ ‘bout,” ony’ mumbled, toying with a toothpick between his teeth. 

you smack glossy lips together, “jus’. . . ‘bout us three y'know? how- like, where do we go fr'm here huh?” your eyes flutter, cheeks warming. you feel the silence actually, eren and ony’ are doing that stupid thing where they talk to each other with their eyes. 

butterflies flap their wings about, joyous as ever. it makes you smile a little, as you're beginning to grow nervous. “let's talk inside ma’,” onyankopon suggests, stepping past you into the house where eren follows. 

“me n’ ‘ren c'n take care ‘f each other n’ you, know that?” 

you all shuffle onto the dark gray couch in the living space. ony’ and eren's ranch had a deep modern aesthetic. dark oak accents adorned both the outside and inside, complimented by gray and brown shades of furniture. 

“i know that . . . ,” you pout, 

“so wassup,” eren stares you down, the emerald swirl of his eyes warmed your belly yet you couldn't maintain eye contact with him for long, eren just had that kind of stare without realizing it himself.

“‘m g'nna be frank, ion wanna impose on nothin’ y'folks got . . . n’ my past relationships ain't been the best.” you huff and continue, “‘m jus’ puttin’ that out there. i feel like we've been talkin’ for a while n' I'm fond of y'all.” 

“i jus’ don't wanna be the one to mess things up,” you finish in a whisper. 

onyankopon hums low and eren plays with his lip ring, “n’ das’ all, girlie?” he asks and pursed his lips, dimple deepening at that. you give a nod and a small ‘yup’ while intertwining your hands onto your knees that were pressed together. “y’ talk to us, we talk to you, got that? if it's an issue y'got: don't hesitate to let us know,” ony’ iterates.

eren makes a noise of agreement, “y’communicate everythin’ wit us, sugar, we're serious,” and you nod slowly. “‘kay . . . i get that,” your eyes feel a little wet with emotion, ones you're not too sure of yourself.

you were happy to hear them affirming their commitment yet still anxious for the future. regardless, you couldn't help but lurch forward, you grab the back of eren's neck to press a sweet strawberry jelly flavoured kiss to his cheek, leaving a baby pink glossy print on his cheek along with a loud ‘mwah’ as you smiled. similarly, you crawl over his lap to do the same to ony’ who only bit back a grin, gold capped teeth glistening in the light much like the glossed smudge on his face.

♡

inevitably came the days you'd call the ‘honeymoon’ phase in a relationship, except it lasted what felt like forever.

these days you preferred to be cuddled up in your bedroom, legs being warmed by a black, gray and white blanket you were committed to crocheting. with a couple dark, gloomy days where the usual creamy clouds frowned down on you, the animals often retreated to their pens and little beds of hay to seek warmed from stormy weather. buttercup and bently invaded each others personal space in their dog beds down at the living room, you smile a little at the thought.

“yeen gotta be like that, ony’,” you hear eren groan in a mischievous pout as the two men exit your bathroom smelling of your bath soap. onyankopon mumbles something of ‘’s a stupid idea’. you giggle under your breath, hands hard at work weaving and looping the thick yarn for the blanket. 

“ [  ] , watchu’ think, sugar?” eren plops himself onto the bed, “hm?” still fixated on your progress, ony’ huffs from his seat on the ottoman, lotioning his chest and arms then turning back to rub some excess onto eren's foot. “i told ony’, let's take the horses f’ a ride, ma’, he talkin’ bout ‘oh it's rainy’, i think it'll be chill,” he smiles big and winks expecting something of an applause for his great idea of fun.

“ion mind whateva’ y'guys wanna do, jus’ once we shower ‘gain after, ‘fore we get sick,” you shake your head at the thought. ony’ smacks his teeth, “c'mon, don't support him.” 

“what, playin’ in the rain is fun, baby!” you chuckle, eren simply props his head on his palm, enthralled by your meticulous work. regardless, he nods mindlessly in agreement at the discussion.

just like that, cowboy hats and boots were thrown on and you head down to the stables to round up the horses. ony’ and eren raced each other down to them before you could even get a word in. the thought reminded you of buttercup and bently who currently settled and slept with one's head atop the other.

the fresh rain smell hits your nostrils quickly, smelling of the humidity off the grass and pitch of the street. you could audibly hear the wind bristling about the bushes as it cooled your skin. all you wore was a thin white tank top, jeans along with your classic pink-brown boots to match your hat. eren and ony’ warmed up the horses, encouraging mary-lou to shake out her mane and trot a little. onyankopon was seated by reiner, rubbing at his legs to warm him a bit and doing the same to armin. of course, you stare unabashedly, his muscles (unclothed) bulged with each motion, waistline visible amid his jeans.

you stare so much so, that you don't even notice eren come up to your side to press a wet kiss to your neck, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives your ear a kiss too, “starin’ at my man, girlie?” he laughs boyishly and you swat him, “dat’s m’ man too, freak,” he gasps falsely at the insult and you speed off to grab the harness for mary-lou; ony’ pretends he didn't hear the bickering and mounts his horse.

“s’ not rainin’ all too much now, see?” eren comments, scooping his hair back into a low bun under his hat. the three of you clicked and clocked through the damp grass and onto the street, letting the drizzle of rain moisten your skin with each speckle. you gnaw at your bottom lip, lost in thought as you trail behind the two men. at the same time, another cold gust would brush past you three, drying your skin again. yet, as you flinch when a particularly large droplet mands on your cheek, the rain picks up again and you smile.

sometimes moments like these felt so good, connecting with nature and taking in the beauty of the weather. it didn't stop you from being distracted, eren's white wife-beater was getting soaked. the tattoos creeping up his side peaked through the material and stared right back at you. you bitr back a groan and cover your warming face with your palms, wiping it clean of rain, while eren and onyankopon fall back on their horses. the peaceful silence with nothing but the ‘tock’ of the horses’  hooves kept your mind wandering. 

now drenched, you could only imagine peeling off these clothes, a strap of your flimsy little tank top blew off your shoulder, and you felt the material sticking to the bulge of your breasts nestled in your black bra that now stood out ten times as much. god, you felt like a fuckin’ pervert. you couldn't even bring yourself to look down at your own chest, feeling scandalized enough. something about thinking of yourself in . . . near erotic situations such as this made your clit thump like a sweet little rabbit's nose.

nonetheless, you ignore it and allow the rocking atop mary-lou as she walks to distract you. onyankopon rides his horse nearer to yours and eren does the same, you gasp under your breath when ony’ nudges you. “wassup,” he murmured, “nothin’ ‘m jus’ distracted.” you comment plainly and eren huffs out a laugh beside you. 

all you do is stare down at mary-lou and pet her mane, the pulse between your legs pushed to the back of your mind. “y'so bad at lyin’, know that?” eren laughs, you blush and groan, “no ‘m not, shut up,” 

“chill, chill,” ony’ whispers, in his stupid, sexy, amazing, deep voice and you let out a big shuddering breath. as you're riding you feel ony's wet bicep brushing against yours. this had to be the end of you.

ony’ reaches an arm behind you, stretching to meanly pinch eren's shoulder. you're not sure what that meant but you didn't care to know. “where we ridin’ to?” you ask, rubbing glossy lips together. “mm, let's jus’ head to me n’ ony's ranch,” 

“kay,” you settle with that, sweet n’ soft.

“wanna race, jaeger?” ony’ slips in lowly, pulling ahead and looking back at you two with his. . . stupid handsome smile, “h- hey now, let's not–” and you're interrupted by shouts, “let's go!” eren pulls off.

you groan softly, hiking up mary-lou’s harness a bit as you begin to gallop behind the two men. the raindrops stung against your skin and you whined trying to catch up to the two and your breaths harsh. with each hard breath you let out you couldn't help but let it bubble up into laughter, you just felt so good. 

you felt giddy, blinking away raindrops that attacked at your eyes and racing past the two men, who yelled and called out to you, “yo, ma’ we gon' catch up,” ony's cowboy hat flies back behind his head, held up by the string beneath his string as he pulls the white horse forward chasing after you.

the three of you speed past grunge fencings and rosey bushes all bowing their heads now from the deluge. your tank top was completely soaked, and you imagine so was eren's when you pulled in the gates of their ranch and headed around back where you could free mary-lou to run around in the fenced horse enclosure.

you sit on the ground and linger near the side of the house by some plants, boots kicking about scattered hay and picking up sticky mud. eren and ony’ pull in the same time, wet chests heaving and eyeing you as they quickly hop off and lead their horses to the enclosure. “you win, watchu want?” eren huffs out, swinging his hat off and tossing it to the side, letting the rain seep into his curls. “hm?” you moan while rain kisses you, “i get a prize?” 

he nods and slumping down against the wall next to you and propping his arm on a plant. you take the time to stare at his pecs . . . light brown nipples peaking through at you. eren catches you staring, it forces you to look away quick and brush a wet braid out of your face just as ony’ arrives.

“yall chillin’?” 

“yea . . . mama's chillin’ alright,” eren smiles up at ony who lays in the grass beside you. “she baskin’ in her– win,” eren laments, reaching forward to tickle you and you bark out laughter lurching at him. his fingers pet your ribcage and you grab eren's shoulders, “what the– fuck! eren!” you squeal and wrangle with him. ony’ sits in the wet dirt beside you guys with his hands resting behind his head, basking in the rain and ignoring the shoves and pushes nudging him.

“i swear t’ god ‘ren, you– ack!” eren flips you on your back and you land hard with your head on ony's thigh while he wrangles your hands above your head. digging your feet in the ground for leverage couldn't help with the mud slipping beneath you. onyankopon only hums in amusement, watching you stop struggling beneath eren, your chests bouncing with gasps of air.

“you . . . y'know that's not fair, eren,” “i know what's not fair, sugar?” he stares you down, grip on your wrists tight with his chest pressing against yours. the swell of your breasts popped out of your tank top, glistening and sticky when it touched his skin. “mmm, you want somethin’?” he sucks his lip rings into his mouth teasing you, eyes wide and glossed over, throat drying. you lick your lips and slip from his grasp, sitting up and leaning your back onto ony's chest. just as you make that decision you swallow hard feeling his wet chest through your thin top. you wipe some wetness off your forehead evidently applying some mud that was on your arm to the spot.

you catch your breath, rubbing dirtied arms onto your shirt to clean them as best you could. you felt filthy but god, your fat little cunt ached laying in the dirt. 

“onyan'” you call out to the man behind you with your eyes trained on eren who simply sits back smiling impishly at you, “yea, sugar?” 

“wan’ m’ prize,” it comes out in a whine.

“yeah? ‘n what's that gon’ be,” he murmurs low in your ear, eren still hears him. you let out a ‘hmph!’ deep in your throat. then, you drag dirty hands against your tank top before peeling it off you and above your head, tossing it into some grass elsewhere.

crawling on your knees, ass arching in ony's direction, you gesture to eren with a finger, “come here, c'mon,” and you grab the back of his neck, kissing up his sweaty wet throat licking and sucking up anything your mouth touched. you press your lips to eren's, cold wet metal between you two when you let his tongue into your mouth, sucking it up when your lips lock hot.

eren groans into your mouth, hand gripping at your ass concealed by your jeans and he falls back into the mud. you reveled in the slick sound of your lips separating from each other, tuning out how soaked your jeans were getting in the rain. the ambient pelting sound on the rooftops only edged you on further, sitting in eren's lap.

“fuck, you're nasty,” eren mumbles against your lips when you pull away for a second, fingers toggling with the buttons on his jeans. he resists a big smile, elbows resting in the muddied dirt to hold himself up while you roughly tug his jeans down a bit. just enough room for you to reach his dick.

“see how she treatin’ me, ony'?” eren wipes rain off his nose, locking heavy-lidded eyes with onyankopon then down at you, “she roughin’ me up ‘cause she won,” he grumbles and you pull his cock out.

eren flinches when his dick is exposed to the rain, tan-brown tip oozing pre mixed with droplets. your knees dug into the mud beneath you, ass arching up. you stare shamelessly at eren's dick, letting the saliva build up about your tongue while you press a few kisses to the tip. his breath shudders above you, leaning his head back for the rain to fall on his face. “c'mon, pretty, do watchu want,” you grip him tight, feeling like your palm could memorize the girth and veins that popped out. then, tugging him up slightly, you slot your mouth in the gap between the bottom of his dick to his balls. sucking on the skin, you let you built up salivation drip down his balls, slurping the heavy sack onto your tongue.

you suck eren's balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around mounds and his mouth drops open revealing his tongue ring. he grins, giving you a loud shameless groan, he was certainly showing off for ony’ who sit behind you watching. “suck it like dat, yea,” eren mumbles to you, licking the rainwater off his lips. he lets you have your way a bit more, focused on your features: the way the rain made your eyelashes clump together, the droplets sliding down your nose, to the spitty goop around your mouth all over his balls.

“c'mon, c'mon,” he pulls your mouth off him with a hand gripping the base of your hair, licking the splittle off your chin then kissing it into your mouth and swallowing your whines. “y' fuckin’ nasty, jaeger,” onyankopon mutters lowly behind you and eren bites back a smile. “filthy ass, take that shit off,” you up off your knees, flopping back on your ass where you fiddle with the buttons on your jeans. 

your cheeks burned, both eren and ony's eyes grilled into you and everywhere you touched got streaks of mud in it after having your hands dig into the sopping ground. on your arms, your boobs, eren's shirt. slowly, you shucked your jeans down, slipping them past your ankles along with your boots. your panties were stuck up your ass when you sit in some wet patches of dirty hay, tossing the jeans aside realizing you wore significantly less than the other two men with rain beating all over you.

eren and ony’ share a look then eren's the first to lurch forward gripping your legs with his muddied hands, pushing you back to lay in the dirt and kissing about the clear parts of your belly. he nips at the swell of your breasts in your bra, sucking and kissing wherever he saw fit. “er– eren,” he's prying your legs apart, pushing them ‘till your knees were besides your ears. “eren, stop–,” then he's plucking your panties out your ass and sliding them up your thighs, he stretches the thin little things beyond repair to sling them off your ankles. “what the fuck,” you whisper, eren's fucking unreachable n’ you're both staring at your fat puffy cunt. he takes a second to look to the side at ony’ before returning his attention to your pussy, sprinkles of water sliding down, yet the blubber of slick collected between your lips was noticeable.

the pretty thing was so fat your hardened clit could barely peak through. eren dips his tongue deep, digging at your hole then dragging his tongue through your folds illiciting a low gasp. the cold metal bar in his tongue nudged at your clit. he curled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, giving it a few flicks before spitting and licking another strop up your cunt. “feels– fuckin’ good, eren, oh,” you whimper, his gentle motions paired with the ambient beating of rain against your skin had you on a high. he shakes his head side in your cunt, arousal making sticky strings beside his cheeks as his nose nudges the fat of your pussy. “holy shit,” you press your head into the soft ground beneath you, eyelids fluttering shut when eren suckles softly on your clit. you hum and moan, licking your lips and feeling your head spin, “‘ren . . . oh my god,” he slurps noisily suctioning his mouth over your pussy, sucking hard over and over and over again relishing in the throb of your clit against his tongue.

“he knows, baby,” ony’ murmurs and your mouth drops open with a loud moan, his voice just did something for you. you felt the muscles in your legs twitch, itching to close them with each swipe of eren's tongue and swirling pleasure in your tummy. your hands dig into the dirt behind you, legs quivering.

“tastes fuckin’ good don't it?” he's mumbling and eren's groans into your pussy sends shockwaves against your clit, he nods vigorously. “ohh– shit,” you sit up on your elbows digging in the mud, hair soaked and heavy and your legs only spread wider; your eyes trained on eren's tongue making sloppy circles around the fat mound in your pussy.

eager, you slip your hands into eren's wet curls, stuffing his face into your cunt, “eren, eren– yea-ah!” his groans rumble in his throat and here came the fucking waterworks. your climax comes hard along with several slick kisses to your clit, beads of sweat and rain slipping down between a furrowed brow and a guttural moan ripping from your throat.

eren's mouth releases its latch onto you, your legs flopping into puddles of dirt beneath you. “prepped her f'you,” eren licks his lips and looks to onyankopon who sits there with a fat bulge beneath his jeans although unbuttoned.

“mm yeah?,” you both shuffle over to the wet patch of hay ony’ sat in, slightly less soaked albeit equally as muddy.

onyankopon gestures to eren with two fingers as he lifts himself up, brushing water from his face and allowing eren to take a seat against the wall. your eyes flicker between them, sitting with your butt resting on the heels of your feet feeling exposed. it doesn't help that eren reaches behind you to unhook your bra, your cheeks feel hot. nevertheless, you slip them off your arms.

onyankopon shucks down his jeans just below his ass,  “ [  ], come right here,” walking on your knees you shuffle forward to ony’ who puts a hand above the swell of your ass, pressing his bare chest to yours. ony's gaze is something serious, he bends his neck and clasps his lips to yours. it's slow, methodical and hot. onyankopon breathes deep and groans into your mouth. your body goes limp a little: drooping in his grasp and relaxing against his body as his tongue gently guided yours against his own. “mhm, okay . . . okay,” he presses a few kisses to your lips with a squeeze around your throat as he weans you off his mouth.

“turn ‘round,”

you whine, “w'nna look at'chu,” 

ony's unmoved, he swallows, “look at ‘ren, baby,” and he guides you as you turn in the slippery mud to arch your ass up to him, his palm glides down the small of your back deepening that arch while your head rests on your folded arms before you. the position makes it hard for you to focus properly on eren, you peep at him through your eyelashes.

your cunt is sticky, swollen lips bound together by the white film of your arousal after the orgasm eren gave you, and you feel ony's hands kneading your ass. he spreads them, watching your pussy lightly spread open with it. you hear his belt buckle jingle slightly as his hands continue to massage your back right along with the downpour. ony’ grips his cock in his hands, tugging the thick thing lightly a couple times. he catches eren staring as he pumps it harshly before pressing the fat tip against you. 

“fuuuck,” ony’ slaps his cockhead at your entrance letting it get coated by your arousal before slipping the first inch in slowly and already you're speechless. “holy– shit,” your cunt stretched to accommodate the girth and ony’ grips the curve of your back for leverage, letting out a guttural groan while slowly inching into you. 

he sits in it for a moment, allowing you just a moment to familiarize yourself with the fat pipe he just lay in you; then, he's pulling out slowly and pushing in again and you whine. “what the fuck,” you feel ony’ lean his weight over you, and you gasp as he starts smacking his hips to your ass.

paired with the wetness of the rain, his hips leave a stinging slap against you and you're faltering with your tits mushed against the mud. eren left your pussy sloppy, your cunt whipping up loads of cream slick around ony's cock and your mouth is just ajar. jaw tightening with shallow, whiny moans cascading past your lips, ‘ah's and ‘oh's are all the men hear. “mm, ony’,” you try to murmur, body giving way fully to the mud beneath and ony's grip on your tightens,”watchu’ want, hm',” he grumbles.

oh how he knows nothing of the way your clit throbs everytime his heavy balls slap against your cunt.

“wan'— wan’ it deeper, please,” and you gasp hard when ony’s hand comes up to your ass, digging his thumb into the curled rim of your butt before bringing a foot to the ground for leverage; his ankle beside your ear, you eagerly grab onto it. “got fuckin’ good manners, don't she?” he grunts out, and the other man nods. 

onyankopon gives you two warning strokes, pressing his cock to the hilt and curling his thumb inside your ass and you feel overwhelmed. then, you gasp in a loud sob  as ony’ starts drilling his cock deeper into you, his hips smack you hard and his weight presses you everytime he drives his cock in. “fuck, fuck–,” you're squealing, hands draw digs into the mud as you can't help but writhe against the mud. “feel good?” you all but whine in response, “feel fuckin' good?” “ye- yes!” you mewl out. ony’s muscles contract and you can see it in his leg, intent on keeping you from sliding away from him under the soaked muddy slop.

the noises are . . . obscene. pornographic bursts of air shooting out amidst the stirring up of your melting cunt and your cheeks burn with embarrassment along with fresh tears streaming but you're breathless. “so fuckin’ loud,” ony’ mumurs,  his lips curling into a smile when he hears the noises you make.

“m’– fuck, m’ sorry,” you weep and your walls squeeze ony’ tight. you feel a glob of slick collect at the tippy top of your cunt, the fat bulge of your clit and stickily drip down onto the ground with each rock of your bodies. “takin’ m'shit fuckin’ good, sugar,” onyankopon drawls low and you sob.

you hear him whistle above you and with  a quickness eren's pants come into view. he sits, legs spread with his groin in line with your face against the ground. he scoots forward enough so he can lift your head and replace the mud beneath your nose with the musk of his balls. “‘ren, ‘ren, ren,” you're chanting, itching for your orgasm approaching with each quick and sloppy drag of cock in you. “m” right here, girlie,” ony's pummeling you from behind and your drooly mouth now has eren's pretty tanned cock slapping against it. “holy– fuck, hng- shit,” you mutter out before you're latching your lips onto eren's tip, inviting him into your mouth. he controls it, gripping your braids and rocking your head onto his dick.

“c'mon, c'mon, takin’ that shit s'fuckin’ good,” eren praises when he starts to snap his hips into your mouth, matching ony's strokes. he strokes your soaked hair gently, juxtaposing the nasty aggression each rock of his hips brought. you gagged, muffled, globs of spit streaking down your chin as you relaxed your throat for eren's dick. in the same way, you're making a mess on ony's cock, coating his length in hot creamy release that trickled down your own cunt. “she's fuckin’ creamin' on it, E',” and you moan when eren laughs cruelly above you, “cream on y’fuckin’ cock, ma’,” he grunts.

each drag of cock against the ridges of your cunt, the slosh of your mouth had you moaning in a frenzy. “was’ ya’ problem, huh?” eren groans out, and onyankopon knows exactly what your problem is.

“mama's bout to fuckin’ nut, huh?” he can feel the extra squeeze around his cock and rolls his neck to let some rain coat his face and distract him from his own ache. they listen to how you squeal around eren's cock, hands grabbing at his jeans and ony’ pumps his thumb into your ass consistency. 

“mmm, fuck,” onyankopon hums, angling himself so the curve of his cock digs at you just right, and he smiles: satisfied when you start to squirm and fuss beneath him. eren pulls you off and you sob, coughing a little to clear your larynx. you whimper as eren all but ruts against your face. “keep her right fuckin’ there,” ony’ groans and you grasp onto eren's jeans, cunt twitching with each movement yet eren forces your shoulders back to keep your body where ony’ wants you: daggering his cock into you with a forcefull quickness that eren's rutting mimics. 

“ohmygod, oh!” you blubber out, chanting ‘shit, shit, shit's

“gon’ leave you fuckin’ gapin’, quit playin’,” and you weep.

your hips twitch and you feel the knot in your stomach stiffening, “wan’ you're cum, want y'all's c–cum, fuckkk,” wail into eren's skin and take his cock back into your mouth just as your cunt spurts and your ears feel clogged from the rush of blood to your abdomen. “take it, take it, take that cum, baby,” eren groans. you felt light-headed, stars twinkling at you around the edges of your vision as your eyes rolled and soon you were forced to blink away the brain fog to swallow the thick loads eren gushes into your mouth. 

he whines, unabashedly and onyankopon gives you a couple more strokes before his cock is digging into you to bury his surge of cum into you with a hiss.

eren falls back, letting you catch your breath and stroking rain away from your face. ony’ pulls out quick before you start to get sore, giving your cunt a few wet slaps before eren's pulling your limp aching body onto him to give you some relief. “gotchu’, gotchu’.” he consoles.

“c'mon, E,” ony’ rushes, “huh?”

“gotta’ get out the fuckin’ rain,” he puffs out a laugh before he's lifting you off eren. they both try not to slip in the mud, hurrying off into the ranch for long hot showers.

[eyeritestuff]

Billy Kid x Reader Headcanons ☆

—X—

A/N: super into ZZZ right now (and billy.)

CW: nothing, maybe a few suggestive jokes but everything is generally SFW :3 i’m super sleepy and writing this at 1am so bare with me when it comes to spelling and grammar :’)

Reader: Gender Neutral [they/them]

—X—

Billy takes a lot of selfies, especially when on missions, and sends them to you. You don’t know what made him start doing this, but you save each and every one of them and you make sure to drop whatever you’re doing to ask him about it.

Billy is on the spectrum. Don’t ask me the logistics of it, yes he’s sophisticated AI, but hear me out! Though you like to indulge in some childhood nostalgia, you aren’t particularly fixated on watching just one media from your childhood. However, one of the medias you watched back in the day is called Starlight Knight. As soon as you told him you enjoyed that show, he would come to you to talk about it. It wasn’t all the time, of course, but whenever conservation went dry (in person or via DMs), he’d make it a thing to talk to you about it for hours. It didn’t annoy you, not in the slightest. It made you happy to see him so happy about the children’s show, and so you entertained it as much as you could.

When Billy texts, he uses old fashioned emoticons as punctuation. Think ‘ :3 , ^_^ , o_O ’ and then replace it everywhere a period, an exclamation point, or a question mark would be. So many emoticons…

Billy loves to play video games, especially at the arcade. He invites you, and usually you tag along. When you can’t, he sends a selfie of him making a sad face. He’d probably captions it something like ‘Missing my pookie.. 💔💔’

On that same note, Billy will pick up on vocabulary you use and steal it. So if you have a habit of saying ‘pookie’ ? That’s his now. He’s using it all the time.

Billy panics easy when it comes to you. not only when it comes to safety, but also when it comes to romantic scenarios. During times you hang out with Anby and Nicole, they spill all the details of how Billy went on a rampage to find the perfect flowers, or how Billy sat in a corner all morning whining about how he didn’t find the right color outfit for you. Things along those lines!

Sortve related, but Billy gets flustered easily. Especially when you make dirty jokes, most of which aren’t really directed at him. He doesn’t get the jokes at first, but when he does understand them, he reacts in such an over the top and dramatic manner. Flailing around, gasping really loud, whining, yknow the works! One time you made a joke about ‘whimpering audios’ and he didn’t understand it. For a while too! Once he asked enough people (Anby explained it to him), he went silent and locked himself in his room for a considerable amount of time. He wasn’t sad or anything, just… shocked.

Billy isn’t human, so he doesn’t necessarily get injured in the traditional sense. One time he came back from a commission with his arm all battered up. You never seen him so down in spirits! You were able to help him, luckily, because it was only one part on his arm that was damaged that really messed up the rest of it. You kissed his hand, and immediately after inspecting your handiwork, he stuck his hand out again. “I dunno.. my arm still feels wonky. How about another kiss for good measure?”

When you’re bored, you love to dress up as Billy. Well, you’re not really dressing like him, you’re just wearing his jacket. You also like to wear the jacket with certain outfits you think it would look best with. Since your boyfriend is so tall and broad in the arms, you mostly wore it as a shoulder drape in an odd anime fashion statement. Regardless, Billy loved to see you wear it.

Earlier I mentioned Billy loves to take selfies, but I forgot to mention how most of them include you, and despite having all of those selfies of himself, half of his camera roll is you. He likes to sneak pictures of you sometimes! It’s one of his more odder behaviors, but he takes such cinematic pictures of you, even when you’re wearing the worst outfits. You didn’t know how he did it, but it’s one of the things that made the random picture taking somewhat okay.

Billy loves hugs. Don’t ask me how it works in terms of comfort. I would assume it’s the equivalent of sleeping in a car. However, Billy does have plenty of plushies thanks to you, and you use those to your advantage… so it’s not all bad :)

You asked Billy to teach you how to sling guns, and the entire tutorial sesh was just him feeling every inch of your body, memorizing and admiring how you looked. He loved you. All of you! He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew (and secretly loved it too).

Billy loves to carry you on his back and walk around. All I’m saying is, he’s got handlebars on that jacket for a reason… this has to be one of them……

Billy loves stickers. Self Explanatory!

Billy loves giving you gifts. He puts your needs over his more than he should, but luckily you’re not in this relationship to take advantage of his immaturity and inexperience. You give back as much as you can.

Billy is clingy. Needed to type it out despite it being loud as hell in this list.

Billy cant cook. Not like he needs to anyways, but he wants to learn for you! So when you’re cooking, he watches close behind you and asks you every question he can think of.

Billy likes to ask why… a lot. It gets frustrating sometimes, but he genuinely wants to learn.

—X—

A/N: thx for reading! idk might make a part 2 i’m gonna go fall asleep now :3

[screwpinecaprice]

Okay I forgot to add. But it's practically just blabbering and it's a wall of text so you can ignore.

I learned the hard way that it's better for me to work on the commissions in an order based on complexity or how long I tend to work on a piece; starting from the simplest first to the hardest. I might draft or sketch them at the same time, but the definitive process will be prioritized based on simplicity. (Eg: A $10 Kofi commission will be prioritized over a Flat colored Regular commission. Doesn't matter which made the reservation first.)

My commission details here by the way:

Regular commission details

Ko-fi commissions

Order of priority: 1st. $2-5 Kofi commission 2nd. $6-8 Kofi commission 3rd. $10+ single image Kofi commission 4th. Flat colored Regular commission 5th. $10+ Single paged Kofi comic commission 6th. Mildly rendered Regular commission (less than two characters, no specified background) 7th. Two paged Kofi comic commission 8th. Mildly rendered Regular commission with more than two characters. 9th. Three paged Kofi comic commission 10th. Full rendered commission (headshot/half body) 11th. 3+ paged Kofi comic commission 12th. Full rendered commission (full body)

But we may have a discussion if you prefer to have your order made earlier than planned.

Reservations for May commission slots filled!

I'm taking lesser than the usual for the May batch. Though I might be doing a commission grind on June if the circumstances make it possible.

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Truth or Dare

Jinx x F! Reader

Warning: NSFW Minor DNI, Smoking, Freaky deaky stuff, Truth or Dare

Summary: You and Jinx are having a sleepover while there has been tension building between you both with friendly game of Truth or Dare.

Author note: This was heavily proofread so I hope you all enjoy ⭐️ #RunningoffofRedbulls

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Can you Roll?” You asked Jinx, showing her the bag of “goodies” you received from Ekko.

“Yea, I can. Just go to my desk and grab my kit,” She tells you. You and Jinx planned to have a sleepover over at Jinx’s place. It’s turned into a normal routine between the two of you since Jinx enjoys your presence and vice versa. Isha is over at Sevika’s for the night so you and Jinx have the place to themselves - after a while of not having one on one time.

As you are searching Jinx’s desk, you couldn’t find her kit, which had you checking inside each of her drawers. In the second drawer, you open you find something quite… interesting.

“Jinx, can you come over here,” You choke out. Jinx walks over and find you looking at her blue and black strap designed with light blue accents. “Shit, I should’ve told you my kit’s in the third drawer,” She chuckled at your embarrassed expression.

Jinx moves over your body and opens the third drawer open where she pulls out her metal kit that has her rolling paper and tray, a lighter, and a grinder. “Is everything okay toots?” She whispers in your ear, moving her hand to your waist as she rest her head on your shoulder. Your breath hitches from her cold hands, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just never knew you owned one of those,” You manage to get out, “So spill. Who is it for?”

Jinx moves from behind you sliding her kit in her hand as she hums, “Dunno. Just decided to have it, that’s it. Or it might be for someone who commissioned me. You think I’m some pervert?” She then raises her eyebrow, “…or do you want me to test it out on you?” She says in a teasing tone.

You quickly respond, “Hmm I don’t know, what if you had Violet test it with Caitlyn?” The air between you two goes dead silent for a beat, and Jinx’s face twitches slightly—caught off guard by your complete lack of awareness.

Her grin falls as she processes what you just said, and then, with a laugh that feels more like a snort, she opens her rolling kit while in mock exasperation. "Oh, sweetie," she says, her voice dripping with playful amusement, "I was totally not talking about that." She gives you a sideways glance, her smile returning, but now there’s a glimmer of something more devilish in her eyes.

You stare at her, blinking in confusion, and she can’t help but laugh again.

“Alright, alright, God you are so innocent when you wanna be,” she finally says. She starts rolling the blunt shaking her head. “I’ll just… leave it to your wild imagination.”

You change the conversation and make plans about later with Jinx until she finishes rolling the blunt and glances up at you, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "All done," she says, holding the freshly rolled blunt up between her fingers. “You can have the first hit since you rolled it,” You say, with a dismissive hand gesture.

Without missing a beat, Jinx pops the blunt into her mouth, pulls out her lighter, and with a flick she ignites the end. She takes a long drag, her chest rising as she inhales deeply, savoring the taste. After a moment, she exhales a thick plume of smoke and then looks at you with a mischievous grin.

"Come over here, toots," she says, her voice low.

You blink, not thinking twice, and crawl over to where Jinx is lounging on the couch. Your movements are casual, but to Jinx, they feel like slow, deliberate torture. She watches you with narrowed eyes, a spark of something dangerous flickering in her gaze. “How does she not know?” Jinx thinks to herself, a sense of confusion in her chest. She's been around you enough to know how comfortable you are with her—how you’ve never judged her, always accepting her for who she really is.

Bur despite all that, Jinx finds herself fighting the urge to close the distance between you two in a way that goes beyond friendly banter. You don’t even realize how you drive her mad. “How can she be so oblivious?” she thinks with a mix of frustration and desire. She’s always been protective of you, but it goes beyond just friendship. She’d never admit it out loud, but the way you look at her—so trusting, so pure. You’re so precious to her, and the idea of anyone harming you—of anyone taking advantage of that innocence— she would destroy anyone who dared hurt you, without a second thought.

Jinx’s chest tightens as she watches you settle closer to her, unaware of the storm swirling inside her. You’ve shown her kindness when others only saw her chaos, and she wants to keep you safe from all the bad people in the world who would take advantage of your trusting nature. She wishes she could protect you from everything, from all the hurt and heartbreak that life could throw your way. And, deep down, she knows she’d do whatever it takes to keep you from ever feeling that pain.

Jinx breaks out of her thoughts when she hears you whining looking up at her, “Jinx, can I take a hit?” Your lips are so pouty and cheeks are so flushed, Jinx just wants to have fun with you a bit. “Hmm, I don’t know if I want to share.”

You furrow your eyebrows, hopping in her lap and straddling her thigh— you bury your face into her shoulder and cry into her. “I was the one who got these. You’re so unfair,” You protest as Jinx takes another puff, exhaling softly. “I’m not sure you deserve it… convince me.”

You look down and grip her shoulders slowly bouncing on her thigh, “Please Jinx, I will make it up to you and we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night,” Your voice dips slightly, and though you might not realize it, the quiet sincerity behind your words only adds to the tension between you two. Jinx feels her pulse quicken, but she hides it behind a playful smirk. “Okay fine, here.” She pops the blunt into your mouth and you take a hit, blowing out a big ball of smoke. You hug Jinx, saying happily, “Thank youuu!”

Time passes and you both of y’all take hits off the blunt until it was all gone. Afterwards, you both decided to take your showers and put on your pajamas. Jinx has on a white tank top with her Cookie Monster pajama pants, while you had on a baby pink and black nightgown that cupped your soft breast as it fell to your upper thigh.

Jinx is sitting on the couch, her eyes following you as you move around the room. The moment you step into view, she takes her time looking you up and down. Her gaze lingers longer than usual, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Hmm, cute," she murmurs, her voice low, but playful. She walks over to you and gently cups your chin in her hand, her touch soft but sending a spark of electricity through you. There’s a shift in the air, and Jinx seems to sense it, her eyes darkening slightly as her fingers traces your jaw.

She giggles, teasing, "So," she starts, her voice low, “what was that promise you were going to make up to me?” Her eyebrow raises, her playful tone mixing with something more calculating as she takes a small step closer.

You, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, smile brightly, hopping up in excitement. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” You rush to the kitchen, “I got your favorite!” you call out over your shoulder, grabbing the tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and rushing back to the counter. You grab the toppings from your bag — whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a jar of cherries. You're not aware of how Jinx's eyes never leaving you as you move.

You assemble the perfect bowl—two scoops of vanilla ice cream, topped with a mountain of whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top. You carry the bowl to the couch, setting it down between you both. You hand Jinx a spoon, smiling brightly. “Here, hope you enjoy!”

Jinx takes the spoon, and as she digs into the ice cream, she savors the flavor slowly, clearly enjoying it more than she lets on. She nods approvingly, but there’s a certain glint in her eyes that you don’t pick up on. “This is so delicious, sweetness,” she chirps, her voice teasing but also carrying a note of something else. You don’t notice the way she says sweetness, how the word rolls off her tongue, hinting at something deeper.

As you both continue eating, the ice cream quickly disappearing, Jinx suddenly breaks the silence. Her voice drops a little, but it’s still playful. “Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, her words laced with a subtle tension that you completely miss.

You hum in response, turning to her with a smile. “Sure, what are we playing?”

Jinx scoots closer, her body language shifting. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Truth or Dare.” Her voice is thick with mischief, but your brain processes it as nothing more than the next fun game for the night. You blink, tilting your head, completely unaware of the weight behind her words. “Oh, okay! Sounds fun,” you say, your tone bright and excited.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

At first, the game seemed harmless—questions like “Tell an embarrassing story,” “Have you ever broken a law?”, and “Send a random person a crazy text.” But as the night wore on, the questions grew more personal, more daring. “What’s your non-sexual turn on?” “Give me a hickey”, “Show me your favorite sex position.”

Now here you are on top of Jinx, and your head’s dizzy. Your whole body is feeling hot as you’re whining in Jinx’s lap. Jinx is groaning under you, her hand traveling up and gripping your hip to move your body against her clothed crotch. She rasps in your ear, “I would’ve never knew someone this innocent would do this with other girls... you dirty girl.” She quickly travels her hand under your nightgown to your ass, giving it a light smack and making you silently squeal into her chest. “How many girls had you do this to them? Huh? I bet there are many people that want a piece of you. You’re so cute, so innocent, ‘m almost sure I can make you do whatever I want because deep down you will chase that pleasure like a needy slut.”

You cry into Jinx’s shoulder gripping onto her blue locks for dear life, grinding your body harder and faster against Jinx. You look up to Jinx, cupping her face, looking deep into her eyes. Both of your lips are inches apart from each other. Before you can kiss her, Jinx puts her pink fingernail against your plump lips, “Nuh-uh toots.. your time is up.” She pats the side of your thigh signaling you to get off. You move off of Jinx, crawling back to your spot across from her while Jinx flashes a look at your ass. You sit in your spot looking down, while your hands trap between your legs to lessen the dull hum you’re feeling between your thighs.

“Dare,” Jinx practically purrs, giving you a devilish smile. You meekly ask, “Kiss me.”Jinx moves over to you, holding your chin in her hand as she caresses your soft skin. Her thumb toys with your bottom lip, slowly moving her lips to yours teasingly. “Please Jinx…” You whine softly, and Jinx closes the gap between you both, giving you a sweet but hungry kiss. You moan softly into the kiss. You needed her so bad.

Jinx pushes you back on the couch, needing to feel more of you as her mouth travels down your neck, creating more marks along with the ones she decorated your neck with before. Suddenly, she stops and moves back to her spot. Flashing you a sickly sweet grin, she looks at you. “So, what’ll it be, Truth or Dare?” At this point, you were so desperate and wanted to feel her more. You didn’t even think about what possible outcome could come out— “Dare,” You answered, absolutely certain with your choice.

“Grab the whipped cream from the fridge and hand it to me.” You scurried over to the fridge, grabbing the whipped cream… you had no clue what she was planning in that head of hers. That was one thing about Jinx, you never knew her next move. You walk over to her, waiting for what scheme she had planned. “Take off your nightgown but keep your panties on,” she demands. You slide the thin straps of the shoulder of your nightgown, it falling to the floor. The cold air hits your skin and as you stand in front of her, you can’t help but feel vulnerable especially since you’re almost nude while she is still fully clothed. Jinx guides you to lay down back flat on the cushion of the couch. “W-What are you going to do?” You manage to choke out. Jinx hums, looking down at your body, “Oh, you’ll see.” She darkly chuckles against you.

Jinx puts the nozzle of the whipped cream against your nipples, making you shudder from the cold hard plastic against your sensitive chest. She presses down and the white cream spreads on your breasts. You whine from the new sensation as the sweet treat is making a mess on your chest, down the valley between your breasts and onto your stomach. Once she finishes her masterpiece, she takes a minute to take It in… you looked so delicious she had to take a mental photograph to refer back to. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Can’t even believe I’m seeing this right now,” She giggles and dips her head down to your chest and starts attacking your nipple, taking it into her mouth. You shriek from the feeling of her tongue and her sucking hard on your poor chest. “J-Jinx please be gentl- ah!” You cry out loudly. Jinx completely ignores your request, going to the other side giving the same treatment. Her free hand grips your chest, teasing and pinching your nipple.

You feel your bottom half of your body tingle and you didn’t know what to do. All you can do is babble and moan from her mouth latching onto your over-sensitive chest. Once Jinx is finished with you, she lifts you up and all you both can do is giggle. “Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” She teases you. Your head is so hazy from the pleasure. To tease her back, you pick up her sticky hand and put her middle and ring finger in your mouth, sucking the lingering whipped cream off. All Jinx could do was just look at you hungrily as she spreads her slender fingers in your mouth, as your tongue is dancing between them, slightly gagging on her digits. You take your mouth off her fingers as a string of saliva comes off her fingers and onto your chin.

You sigh softly, looking into her eyes with nothing but desire. Jinx then takes a deep breath, “You know what… fuck it.” That’s all she says. She grips your hand and drags you into her room, closing the door for whatever the night has in store. You both knew for sure, you both will take your time with each other.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Part 2 coming soon !! Hope you enjoyed

- Angel 💋

[joonie-beanie]

Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends. 

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals. 

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around. 

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants. 

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to. 

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like. 

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off. 

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh. 

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons. 

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go. 

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is! 

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode. 

So…he goes snooping. 

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you��re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything. 

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”. 

Hi there! 

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling. 

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door. 

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights. 

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway. 

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word. 

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet. 

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction. 

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water. 

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion. 

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move. 

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you. 

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it. 

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back. 

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.  

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed. 

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting. 

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving. 

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants. 

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves. 

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers. 

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen. 

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him. 

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face. 

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you. 

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him. 

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him. 

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!” 

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot. 

But…you like him.

[jweekgoji]

yandere five with a reader who's just as smart as him, but is still really sweet. however, she won't take any of his shit and gets past all of his shenanigans, escaping every he drags her back.

Yandere!Five x Reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, dark themes (obviously), yandere Five, kidnapping, mentions of breaking bones.

a/n: I'm sorry if that's not...what you expected? i dunno why I'm saying this, it's just every time I'm doing requests I have a feeling I didn't do it perfectly? and you probably expected more-

For a man like Number Five, having a potential competitor around is kinda a great danger. For him? Haha! Definitely not, more for you. You see, since childhood, Five has been a pretty...competitive guy. He's faster, smarter, stronger than the ones he grew up with at the Academy when he was much younger.

In fact, meeting the same person who can make Five sweat so well would be very interesting to him. If Five were younger, his reaction would be simple. He wants to be the best, as well as get his dose of praise from Reginald, will simply start spending a day to get ahead of you. He'll work out, he'll solve more math equations, he'll read every book in the house day and night, he'll do anything to say, in the end, “I'll always be better.”

Five, who survived several apocalypses, life in the Commission and other things, will be a little...calmer. Yes, he has a younger body, which means he must have strength. But. Five was tired mentally and physically. His body may allow him to do a few runs around the academy if he really wants to, but the other question is, will he compete with you? No.

I understand that you are probably a little disappointed with this answer, yes? Sorry, but Five is not 13 years old! There may be a part of him that wants to get some praise from Reggie, but for the most part, he just doesn't care. He is an old man. He's 58 years old guys, all he wants to do is drink coffee and read some newspaper while enjoying a legal retirement. Your games do not impress him, play such games with Diego or Ben from Sparrow, and please do not bother him.

And so, we approach the other side, by some miracle Five liked you so much that he now loves you, congratulations! I think some of your sarcasm plus sweet and intelligent behaviour will annoy him a little, but for the most part it will amuse him. You, compared to him, are so inexperienced and cute, you are probably trying to copy him, right? He will rather laugh at your behavior.

But if you really are really incredibly smart, then congratulations, you can even shut him up for a while. Remember how Viktor reminded him of the events of season 2?

You stand next to Five, silently looking at him, then at his older doppelgänger lying on the cold metal surface of the table. A moment, and you noticeably shift your gaze first to the younger, then to the old man, and so on several times. This obviously does not go unnoticed by Five and he, already on the verge of breakdown, turns to you.

„What?” he practically grinds his teeth, trying to keep from sounding rougher.

“Nothing,” you shrug, chuckling softly. “It’s just that if he is you, and you are the creator of the Commission, then it’s a little funny.”

He raises one eyebrow at your words and, moving away from his counterpart, now seems a little interested in your point of view.

“What the hell is funny about that? Can you try to explain yourself, missy?”

“You complained that the suitcases are not bulletproof, but it turns out that this is like your mistake?” you are still smiling. “It's not that I blame you...”

For a moment there is only awkward silence between the two of you. You look at him, he looks at you, only making this conversation more awkward now. He seemed to think about your words and the realization really hit him hard, and his face turns red, more likely from anger, and possibly embarrassment.

“You brat really think it's a good idea to say it right now-”

I think if you have yandere Number Five behind you, who, if you remember, is one of the most dangerous people in the world, then you must be pretty damn smart. You must be much smarter than him, considering the fact that you are a simple person with no abilities. It will be incredibly difficult for you to avoid problems if he wants to have you with him 24/7, since he can literally appear at any moment and move you anywhere and you won’t even have time to blink.

Dealing with a person with teleportation is a 50/50 situation where you may or may not get lucky. Your reaction should be quick and immediate, being able to analyze your situation in a stressful situation, because then the right to make a mistake is a luxury that you cannot afford.

Right now, one of your many attempts to escape from Five, and you can tell exactly how he is not happy about this fact. How many times have you already done this? Five times? Ten? Twenty?! He is tired of constantly pulling you away from leaving the house, you damn annoying him at such moments, and after each such attempt, he often has to change the doors and locks on the windows, because you, by some fucking miracle, manage to break them.

“Can you stop this for one freaking day?” he hisses angrily, wrapping one arm around your neck, pressing you closer to him.

His other hand is on top of your mouth, thereby shutting you up. Just from looking at Five's face, you can see how tired he is. Sweat runs down his forehead and his chest rises up and down incredibly fast.

There is a slight smile on your face and for a moment you froze, looking up at him.

“Oh, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I'm causing you,” you say in your real, sad voice. “And sorry about that too.”

Without giving your kidnapper time to react, you strike him hard in the side with your elbow, causing him to groan in pain and let go of you for a moment. Enough for you to be able to escape from it.

If you are smart and have abilities that can help you, then it will be a little easier for you. Because you can at least protect yourself a little if something happens. But in the end, Five is an experienced killer who has a lot of experience and a mountain of corpses behind his back, so at some point the cat and mouse games will end and you can hardly escape your fate.

“You really made me all so worked up over this little games of yous ,” he admits, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But in the end, you can’t run away from fate, right, angel?”

“My dear, it's only a matter of time before I can get away from you again,” you chirp happily, your wrists a little sore from how tight the ropes are pressing against your skin, but your whole appearance doesn't show it.

“Then I need to try to take this opportunity away from you forever,” his hand rests on your knee, squeezing lightly. Your breath is held for a moment and you look down, your heart beats stronger in your chest and it seemed that it was about to jump out.

He won't dare to break your legs, will he?

[royaltea000]

local idiot works at pet shop even though he has a fear of barking

[sageourplanetmeow]

FREE COMISSIONS

Ahem, so I have decided that in preparation for the possibility that I do commissions as part of a future job that I am going to practice doing that but for free. So the floor is open, go nuts with it! Basically go on the thing on my blog that says ‘Free Comissions’ and request something if you want.

It can be: a short comic, sketch or art piece and you can choose whether I do it on paper or digitally. For comics, there may be some possibility that I make an animatic but it would have to be relatively simple since I am still not that good at that. Practice would be nice though :>

!PLEASE DON’T REPOST THEM WITHOUT PERMISSION ONCE I’VE MADE THEM!!! AND REMEMBER EVEN IF YOU ASK I MIGHT NOT GIVE PERMISSION SO DON’T BE HOPEFUL!

!YOU CAN PRINT THEM OUT!

!YOU CAN’T REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDITS!

!DON’T EXPECT THEM TO BE TOO GOOD!

!I’M NOT THAT EXPERIENCED!

!IT MIGHT TAKE SOME TIME FOR STUFF TO COME OUT CUS I’M BUSY!

Stuff I Would NOT Like To Do:

NSFW

Revealing outfits

Right wing propaganda

Discriminatory/offensive content

Heavy HEAVY gore

Smut

18+

Pedophilia

Zoophilia

x… I don’t know how to say it but you know x reader but it’s in art

Things I Would Prefer To Do:

Hazbin Hotel

Arcane

Lego Monkey Kid

VAT7K

Tangled The Series

Helluva Boss

The Owl House

MLP Gen 4 (preferably as humans but I’ll take a swing at their pony forms even if it’s difficult)

The Ghost And Molly McGee

The Amazing Digital Circus

Carmen Sandiego

Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (the mutes would be difficult to draw especially Scarlamagne but I’d still be cool with trying)

Octonauts/Octonauts: Above & Beyond

Ducktales (either ducks or human versions would be fine)

Sophia The First (sue me Cedric is great)

Secret Life Of Boys (It’s a BBC thing)

Wallace and Gromit (it would have to be comical though because I don’t know how easy angst would be to draw)

The Emperors New Groove

Ramshackle

Lackadaisy

Steven Universe

Heartstopper

Dodger (the BBC series)

Hercules (Disney)

DC Superhero Girls (preferably the newer ones)

Thunderbirds (1960, I mean they’re puppets so it would be hard but I like them so)

Sherlock Holmes (black and white one or the BBC series)

Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I find them hard to draw but I love Donatello so I would do my best)

Moral Orel (I haven’t drawn anyone from there yet so it might take some experimenting but again this would be cool to do)

Murder Most Unladylike

Greek Myths

Picture Of Dorian Grey

Hermitcraft

Empires SMP

FNAF Security Breach (preferably Sun and Moon)

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off

Tangled The Series

Disney Movies I dunno

Circe (by Madeline Miller) and the Odyssey

The Wizard Of Ozz

Cats (animals)

Sharks (less easy)

Mushrooms

Minecraft Buildings but drawn

Your OCs

My OCs

Self-Inserts

Redesigns

Designs for certain concepts

Ships

Fanart

Fluff

Angst

Fanart of fan fictions/covers/illustrations for them (they might not be a consistent thing)

[desultory-novice]

You think Magolor and Susie would hire Adeleine for marketing and graphic design for their products?

I could see them both trying!

Adeleine, sweetie that she is, would probably be really shy about the offer at first, not sure she should accept, but also secretly SUPER EXCITED on the inside because, "Da-...ERR, King Dedede! Listen! I got my first 'professional' commission!"

Would it last past that? I dunno, lol...

I think both entrepreneurs would be incredibly happy with her demo piece for them! ...And then Susie, being Susie, would proceed to order a follow-up of 2,500 hand-drawn, personalized copies ("...Does two weeks sound like enough time? I'm on a schedule here. Oh, and if you can sign this ti~ny little non-compete clause!")

While Magolor would bug her for endless variations and changes until it's an entirely different piece of art; ad infinitum. ("Now, this is all still one commission, so I don't owe you anything extra, right?" "A-Actually..." "Wonderful! Pleasure doing business with you!") 

(Note that despite writing them as commissioner horror stories here, I don't see either of them as awful people. They're just quirky, as all our beloved cast members are. And, in this specific instance, a little short-sighted. ^^ )

Cue a burnt-out Adeleine sitting in the grass with a thousand yard stare. That is until Kirby, Ribbon, and Gooey come by to play and help remind her that her art is best when it's both personal and fun!

…

Haha… Is it clear yet how desperately I would want to be on the writing staff of a Kirby ensemble cast animated series? XD (Comic works too!)

[lelianasbitch]

DELETED SCENES DELETED SCENES GIVE US DELETE SCENES

Mother Miranda's crusty dusty bootyhole . . .

Alright I get it!

Little side notes:

This scene was before Donna even spoke to Courier.

If it wasn't already clear in my story, the portrait of Donna doesn't exist. In this scene it does.

Originally, I put Donna as tall in this scene but I just changed it to be closer to Courier's height.

Maybe I'll include something like this in a chapter . . . who knows.

You didn’t hear the footsteps on the other side, so when the door moved, you jumped. It only opened an inch. The door creaked as it was tugged again but refused to budge. You heard a tiny grunt at each tug, and you couldn’t help but look through the crack.

On the other side was Lady Beneviento attempting to get the door open but failing. She gestured for you to wait a minute. You nodded and stepped back as she forced the door closed. Instead of trying to open it again, she opened the other door. Thankfully, it was less resistant.

“Hi!” Angie happily greeted.

“Good morning. How’re you two today?”

“Pretty good! Donna just started a commission.”

“I bet it will look beautiful,” you said, acknowledging Angie before returning your gaze to Lady Beneviento. “Your work is always stunning.”

She bowed her head.

“What happened with your door?” you asked as you handed her the small package.

“I dunno, shit’s old,” Angie answered.

You examined the doorway and saw that on the bottom right, the wood was rotting away with a large chunk of it missing. The hinges of the door also looked worn out. There was no doubt that the door jamb and hinges needed to be replaced, but at least the door itself still seemed to be in good shape.

“I could fix it for you, you know.”

Lady Beneviento shook her head again and Angie made an annoyed noise.

“Let her do her job! One of these days that door is going to snap off its hinges.”

“I really don’t mind,” you insisted.

Angie looked up at the doll maker and stared at her. For a moment, they remained quiet as if communicating with their eyes even though Angie couldn’t see Donna’s.

“Okay, but in exchange, Donna will make you a coat!”

“What’s wrong with my coat?”

You looked down at yourself. Admittedly, the grey coat was a little too big on you, but it was the only one available at the time and you liked how warm it kept you considering how bad the winters could get. It was several years old now and may be missing a button, but it still did its job well.

“Seriously?” Angie took the end of your coat between her thumb and index finger and made a disgusted noise. “Trust me, Donna can make you a better one.”

“I don’t want to impose. I know you have other commissions as well and I don’t exactly have the funds to pay you.”

“You don’t have to pay!” Angie said. “If you get sick, then who will deliver our packages? Like we said, you can pay us back by fixing our door.”

Lady Beneviento nodded eagerly. Oh God, did she think your coat was ugly too?

“All right.”

Angie cheered and pulled you into the house as Lady Beneviento closed the door and continued walking further in the house.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“Donna’s gotta measure you, duh!”

Letting the doll guide you, your eyes wandered up, completely enraptured by the high ceiling and the chandelier. You didn’t have the chance to appreciate the architecture the first time you were here, but you were grateful for this second chance. Then, you saw the giant portrait. The moment was brief, but for the first time, you saw Lady Beneviento’s face. And Mother Miranda’s breath she was beautiful. Her subtle and gentle smile was charming as if she was shy about having her portrait done. Angie on the other hand, looked happy to be there.

“C’mon, this way!” Angie said, tugging pant leg and pointing to the door Lady Beneviento was standing by. One hand was pressed against her midriff while the other hung at her side. Her fingers rubbed against each other. She must have not liked you staring at her portrait.

You ducked your head apologetically and entered the living room. There were the dolls on the shelves among the books and one standing alone on the antique cabinet. You expected them to speak and move like Angie, but they remained still and silent. Their eyes were motionless, but you felt like they were watching you. Lady Beneviento gestured for you to wait by the table while she went through one of the drawers of the cabinet while Angie made a grabbing gesture at you with her hands.

“Gimmie your coat.”

You did as you were told, and she hung it on the back of a chair. Then, she scampered off to the desk that was in front of the fireplace and returned with a piece of paper and a pen. The doll climbed onto the chair just as Lady Beneviento turned around to you with a measuring tape in her hands. She wound one end tightly around her index finger as she looked at you. She didn’t say or do anything for a long moment, but you could feel her eyes burning into your skin. You shifted your weight awkwardly under her gaze.

“Lady Beneviento?”

Her head perked up as if she snapped out of a daydream then tilted curiously. Did she forget what you were here for? She seemed to snap out of her reverie and walked behind you. You felt her fingers on your shoulder as she pressed the tape measure on your last vertebrae. Angie started writing something on her piece of paper, but from where you stood, you couldn’t tell what it was. She continued writing more things when Lady Beneviento measured the length of your shoulders and then moved to your arm. She brought the tape down the length of your arm and you began to raise it a bit, thinking it would help, but she gave you a light slap on the wrist.

“Sorry,” you muttered, bringing your arm back to a relaxed position.

She walked around to stand in front of you and lifted both of your arms in a horizontal position at your sides. You knew that she was close to your height, but she had always kept a respectable distance from you which made it difficult to gauge just how tall she was. It looked like she could comfortably rest her head on your shoulder if she wanted. Not that you actually wanted her to, but you wouldn’t mind if she did.

When she moved close to you, you couldn’t help but stiffen in surprise as her veil brushed against your cheek and smelled the familiar scent of wood and paint. It reminded you of your workshop and you couldn’t suppress the smile as you imagined her working late in her workshop on a doll. It was easy to lose yourself in your work and you knew that feeling all too well. Perhaps Lady Beneviento did the same.

Her arms came around you as if she were going to hug you, but she pulled away with the tape measure coming around you and over your chest. Then, after some scratching noises from Angie with her pen, the tape loosened around you to move to your waist where she crouched. Her fingers slipped between the tape and your hip, allowing some extra space to be measured.

Lady Beneviento wrapped the measuring tape up and stood. You put your arms down and shifted uncomfortably as she stared at you silently. A pale hand reached out to you, tugging and rubbing the fabric of your sweater around the collar. Lady Beneviento made a quick exhale through her nose. She clearly seemed displeased.

[fluffyxai]

Melyssa the Lamia

Aaaah it's finally here! I've been working on htis ref sheet for a hot minute. I was veeeeery happy with how the main drawing came out! Except that I couldn't fit her necklace on XD Please don't forget her necklace if you can fit it! Melyssa is a character I first drew ages ago as just a one-off thing. a cobra hooded lamia hypnotising berry twist. Then everyone wanted a piece of her coils (I wonder why) and wanted to commission her. So I ended up making her a permenant character. But she's never really had a proper full ref sheet. just whatever I could throw together. THIS HERE is the definitive, up-to-date, accurate reference sheet for Melyssa. You should defer to this one over all others. You are welcome to draw Melyssa or write about her if you would like to.

Melyssa is a beautiful creature that has the upper body resembling a pony and a lower body of a serpentine form. Her long, smooth, shiny coils can easily wrap a pony up all the way! Or maybe even two or three. (they cna change size a little if she needs them too.) She lives in an abandoned temple on the other side of the everfree forest, kinda in the middle of nowhere. (Not the castle of the two sisters, further than that and a different direction I think probably. I dunno, one only ever seems to find Melyssa's abode when they're hopelessly lost!) Melyssa LOVES the feeling of holding ponies in her coils and hugging them. She'll capture ponies and cuddle with them all day. This sounds great, but she also sometimes eats ponies! so be careful. She has a very powerful version of the same magic that the snakes in the Everfree forest do, which lets her dominate a pony's mind and scramble their thoughts, putting them in a lovely, warm and relaxed state of complete freedom from their thoughts and worries. For the price of their complete obedience, of course~ But I hear it feels super nice to have the honour of being put under this beautiful lamia's spell. You just have to understand she'll probably keep you for a while and play with you, maybe letting you think you've shaken off her power and can make an escape for it, only to find out she was playing snake & mouse with you the whole time.

[pea-brain]

example donation link

if you are an artist or something and want to offer the same commissions, please feel free to take any of these images and use them yourself (edit however you want, remove my art, obviously), the text is free to use.

*in the unlikely event i receive a ton of these, i might have to close them. will let you know. reblogs will be turned off if i close commissions

extra information below v

thank you so much for reading! i used all caps for ease of read, it comes across super agro lol sorry <3 i will be nice in person

also, small note, i dont consider mobility aids (including wheelchairs) to be props, those are free to add.

any further questions DM away!

TEXT IN FIRST MAJOR IMAGES BELOW

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

HOW DOES THIS WORK?

FIRST: AGREE UPON AMOUNT IN APPROPRIATE CURRENCY (SEE "QUESTIONS")

SECOND: WE AGREE UPON ONE OR (IF THE COMMISSION IS OVER $40) MORE GOFUNDME'S TO SEND IT TO TO SEND THE AMOUNT TO

OPTION 1: PAYPAL

SEND ME THE AMOUNT AGREED UPON VIA PAYPAL

I WILL IMMEDIATELY SEND THIS AMOUNT TO THE GOFUNDME OR GOFUNDME'S WE AGREED UPON

I WILL SEND YOU PROOF OF DONATION (SCREENSHOTS, FORWARDED EMAILS, WHATEVER YOU NEED).

(THIS IS MY PREFERRED BECAUSE I CAN BE 100% SURE THE MONEY IS SENT)

OPTION 2: STRAIGHT TO THEM

CREATE AN ACCOUNT WITH 'GOFUNDME' AND ALLOW THEM TO SEND YOU AN EMAIL TO SEND YOU A DONATION RECEIPT

SEND THE MONEY STRAIGHT TO THE AGREED UPON GOFUNDME/S

SHOW ME PROOF (SCREENSHOTS AND FORWARD THE EMAIL CONTAINING THE RECEIPT TO ME)

IF YOU CANNOT FORWARD THE ACTUAL EMAIL TO ME, I WILL NOT ACCEPT YOUR COMMISSION.

THIS HAS TO BE A NEW DONATION THAT WE MAKE TOGETHER (PEOPLE NEED MORE MONEY RIGHT NOW, I WILL NOT BE ACCEPTING COMMISSIONS BASED ON OLD DONATIONS.)

additions:

+75% extra character, complex background/ scene*, full render, complex outfit design by meee ;)

+50% medium background/ scene*, flats (will include nice lineart), complex outfit/ design, simple outfit design by me

*scene means a complex pose or it looks like they're actually in the background. interpretation of this is up to me

addition prices are calculated based off of the base price and do not compound

example calculation: half body ($30) + extra character (+75% of $30 = $23) + medium background/scene (+50% of $30 = $15) = 30+23+15= $68

for stuff not covered here (like a complex prop) just shoot me a DM

will draw: furry (not great but i can try), gore (incl extreme), horror, artistic/ casual nudity, fanart, your roc's, my doc's, romantic/ ship art, anything LGBT+ (people might not know me i felt i should add that)

wont draw: porn, fetish (up to me to interpret what i consider that), ship/ romantic/ nude art involving persons who are or appear to be under the age of 18 (even if they are 'aged up'.) even if its like kids kissing, i'm not comfortable with that cheers, anything i consider 'hateful' (i dunno man i felt i had to add it)

if i am uncomfortable i reserve the right t refuse aspects or the entire request

ownership of the art is yours, if you dont want me to post it to my account i wont

QUESTIONS

USD? AUD? CAD? EUROS?

I TRUST YOU TO BE HONEST, IF YOU ARE AUSTRALIAN, AUD, IF YOU ARE AMERICAN, USD. IF YOU DON'T USE THOSE, PICK ONE. (EUROS AND USD ARE WORTH MORE SO I WILL PUT MORE EFFORT IN NGL)

DO I (THE ARTIST) KEEP ANY OF THE MONEY?

NO!! 100% GOES TO A GOFUNDME (OR MULTIPLE) WE AGREE UPON MUTUALLY

WHEN DO YOU (THE COMMISSIONER) PAY?

ASAP! (BEFORE I START PREFERABLY) THESE PEOPLE NEED MONEY NOW. IF YOU CAN ONLY PAY HALF NOW, HALF LATER, THAT'S FINE. I WILL NOT SHOW YOU THE FINISHED PRODUCT UNTIL ALL THE MONEY IS DONATED. (I WILL SHOW YOU PROOF OF WORKING ON IT (A SKETCH))

WHEN WILL YOU (THE COMMISSIONER) RECIVE THE ART?

I AM CURRENTLY A FULL TIME UNI STUDENT, AND IF I RECEIVE A LOT OF REQUESTS IT MAY TAKE SOME TIME. I DON'T KNOW HOW STRESSFUL THIS WILL BECOME

HOW MUCH WOULD ONE LIKEDRAWING FROM MY (THE ARTIST'S) ACCOUNT COST?

DM IT TO ME I'LL TELL YA

HOW IS 'RENDERING' DIFFERENT FROM A 'FULL PAINTING'

RENDERING INCLUDES CONSIDERED LIGHTING AND SHADING AS WELL AS ATTENTION TO DETAIL. A 'FULL PAINTING' INCLUDES THAT PLUS INTERESTING COMPOSITION, BETTER LIGHTING AND DETAIL, A BETTER 'VIBE' TO IT. ITS HARD TO EXPLAIN, BUT YOU CAN SEE IT FOR SURE. IF YOU DISAGREE

REFUNDS?

NO FULL REFUNDS

IF I AM UNABLE TO PRODUCE A DRAWING IN A MAXIMUM OF 3 MONTHS I CAN REFUND YOU 50% OUT OF MY OWN POCKET. IF THIS HAPPENS, YOU WILL NOT RECIVE ANY ART FROM ME FOR THIS COMMISSION

IF THERE IS AN ISSUE WITH YOU DECIDING YOU NO LONGER WANT THIS, OR YOU ARE UNABLE TO PROVIDE SUFFICIENT PROOF (OUTLINED ABOVE) FROM THE ACTUAL GOFUNDME THAT IS NOT MY PROBLEM. YOU HAVE JUST DONATED MONEY TO PERSON/S IN DIRE NEED SO THATS AWESOME ACTUALLY

TO BE CLEAR: IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND AND THE MONEY IS SENT, I WILL NOT REFUND YOU. I WILL ONLY REFUND 50% IF I FAIL TO PRODUCE A DRAWING IN 3 MONTHS FROM TIME OF COMMISSION

[rayshippouuchiha]

Thank you! So here I am to infodump, full of gratitude, and you can post this if you want no problem it's just a bunch of scattered ideas so yeah. Feel free to chuck suggestions at me too! I really don't know what to do with these... building blocks just yet.

Akatani Mikumo is Midoriya Hisashi.

Toshinori gets sandwiches by the Midoriya couple and it turns into an OT3 but that's much later down the line.

Hisashi is a journalist, keeps getting into everybody's business and Knows™ more than he frankly should.

Hisashi is a Cryptid™. But of a different energy from his son who is all lightning-in-a-bottle jittery On The Verge Of Throwing Hands feral sort of cryptid, Hisashi is mostly of this... supernaturally unflappable blank-faced chill entity.

Who keeps spooking people bc No Footstep sounds.

And might possibly be partially mute or just ridiculously soft-spoken bc when he tries to speak at normal volumehis fire-breathing quirk goes ballistic.

Might or might not have bloodline relations to AFO. Origins ambiguous, Inko just literally plucked the (then) teen off a back alley like he was a stray cat.

Also might or might not have more than one quirk, see the probable AFO connection.

Izuku got his mumbling thing from Hisashi.

A cryptid man who seems normal enough except a little off-kilter, like two inches to the left of what's a “normal” man? Weirdo but nobody can pinpoint how or why. That's the sort of vibe I want with this Hisashi.

And some Wack™ backstory lore I came up w for Hisashi, I dunno what I'll do w it but:

Cw: mention of infant murder, bc I'm Me™ and I was thinking about Yotsumegami (it's my favorite game) and how my version of Hisashi would tie in with it.

Yanno how in Yotsumegami “unwanted children” (children with disabilities, the younger of a twin pair or every sibling except the eldest in triplets or higher, etc) would be killed (it's a real historical practice in Japan, mabiki, they called it) or something like that? Would be kinda fun if an offshoot of that variety existed in the BnHA world, even if it's not outright child murder kids would be abandoned, especially in the chaos of the Dawn of Quirks. People who were scared of quirked people would abandon their quirked child, quirkist folk abandoned their quirkless children, it's chaos.

It would be more prominent during the initial chaos, though I guess laws and stuff would've been passed later on to prevent it or at least cut down the numbers— and the practice fizzled out but there's still a few remote rural villages who accept “unwanted” children.

One such secret community could be like, giving the surname “Akatani” (red valley, for the red of spider lilies used in mabiki in times past) to the children that were discarded at their metaphorical door. Do they still practice mabiki? Debatable. But it's like a giant secret orphanage with questionable, cult-like mentalities.

Akatani Hisashi was one of those until he miraculously escaped and tried to survive in the outside world.

Or maybe he didn't have the Akatani surname at first bc nobody in the remote village had any surname but once he got out he might've created the surname as a way to hm, not quite honor but carry his origins into his new life.

(maybe Yoichi was almost mabiki'd too, like I said I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with this)

So Izuku gets to grow up w two parents who care a great deal for him. Maybe they move away, resulting in Izuku not having to deal w Bakugou in his childhood. Maybe Izuku makes friends with some other future 1-A classmate.

The Commission keeps trying to track down this one rogue “vigilante reporter” whose name is unknown. And they keep failing because Hisashi (along with his son and excessive gaggle of... comrades? followers? does the Midoriya family accidentally create an organization of rabid info gatherers?) is a certified cryptid.

Izuku has his hands in so many pots. He's a lot more nosey than in canon probably?

Endeavor had better be prepared bc his entire way of life is about to go up in smoke

I don't know why but I just have this very strong feeling that Stain doesn't like Hisashi for one reason or another.

I... wouldn't be entirely opposed to the AU just chucking Bakugou out the window so that he's not in 1-A (or in UA at all, fuck that pomeranian) and instead is replaced by another loud blond...

Fucking Monoma, LMAO.

A lot of the AU is just ?????? for now and most of it is Hisashi backstory but hnnnnng I want to do something with these jigsaw pieces I just don't know what

Also I'll be sending in Hisashi's design in a non-anon ask but could you append it to this ask's answer instead? Thanks!

I adore everything about this!?!?!

Also I didn't get another ask, anon or not, so Tumblr might have eaten it

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,690 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10, The Reapers Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst A/N: This is Part 3 of a commissioned miniseries! Thank you to @ankhmutes​ for their generous support! Summary: Daryl and Y/N have more time to talk and the group heads back home.

Your name: submit What is this?

Part 2

The sun wasn’t yet breaking over the horizon when Daryl awoke, though a pink glow was beginning in the distance. He was a little stiff from laying on his thin bedroll, but surprised to find he had managed to get a good amount of sleep. He felt far more at peace than he could remember in a very long time even though his mind was still whirring with unanswered questions. He glanced back and could barely make out the prone shapes of you and DJ in the darkness of the shipping container. He got up as silently as he could and stepped out into the twilight. Kelly was on watch and Daryl climbed up to stand beside her on another steel container.

“Hey,” he greeted her, speaking it and signing with his right hand. “Did you get some sleep?”

“A little,” she said, nodding, turning her eyes back out to the night. “I took over watch so Elijah could get some.”

Daryl nodded and gazed out over the stillness, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. Kelly tapped his arm lightly with hers.

“Soooo… Y/N?” she asked, spelling your name.

Daryl ducked his head, but his lips curved in a small smile.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

Daryl looked back up at her and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Ten years,” he said.

A struck look of understanding hit Kelly’s face. “You were… together?” she signed.

Daryl avoided her eyes a little bashfully but nodded. “Yeah. We were.”

She tapped his arm so he’d look at her again. “The little boy?” she signed. “Yours?”

Daryl nodded again.

“Holy shit,” Kelly said out loud, smiling at him. She happily grabbed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring look. “I’ve seen you with Judith and RJ. He’s lucky to have you as family. And Y/N? Now?”

Daryl looked anxious and shrugged. “I dunno,” he drawled, his heart speeding up even as he thought of you. “Ten years is a long time.”

She gave him another reassuring smile and then some movement below caught both their eyes. “I think she’s looking for you,” Kelly signed. You’d stepped out of the shipping container, your arms wrapped around yourself, and were glancing around.

Daryl gave Kelly a tight smile and climbed down, heading your way. “Hey,” he greeted you, shoving his hands into his back pockets. You smiled at him and he felt another jolt of electricity. How was it possible that you were even more beautiful now than he remembered?

“I was wondering where you went,” you said, tucking a strand of your hair back behind your ear. “Everything okay?”

“Just checking in with Kelly on watch,” he said. “All good. Still quiet out there.”

There was a silence that felt a little tense before both of you said “Did you get some sleep?” at the exact same time. Daryl ducked his head and let out a small laugh and your smile widened.

“Um—you first,” you said.

“Yeah. Ya know, I actually did. Wasn’t sure it was gonna happen but I managed a few hours,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Good. Same. First good night of sleep I’ve had in—I don’t even know how long,” you said. A shiver from the chill morning air suddenly zipped up your back. You should have pulled your jacket back on before stepping out.

Daryl’s brow furrowed immediately and he quickly moved around you to grab a blanket off his bedroll just inside the door of the shipping container. He held it out for you and you gratefully accepted it, wrapping it over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you said softly. You gave him a long look, studying the scars you could see on his face that he didn’t have before and the years he carried now. Your heart still rushed at the sight of him.

“DJ’s still sleepin’?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. He somehow always seems to sleep just fine. At least much better than I do,” you said.

Daryl nodded. “Nah, it makes sense. He was born into this. S’all he knows. As long as he’s got ya by his side, everything is probably alright in his world. Means yer doin’ yer job right.”

Daryl watched a shadow pass over your face. “He’s had to deal with plenty of me being away, especially lately.”

Daryl gave you a questioning look but you shrugged it off. “Ah... never mind,” you said, giving him a tight smile. “Plenty of time for that later.” You adjusted the blanket around your shoulders and glanced back up at him and caught his blue eyes. They were fixed on you steadily. There was a stack of railroad ties nearby and you tilted your head toward it. “Want to sit down?”

Daryl nodded and followed you over, taking a seat beside you but being sure to leave a buffer of space. His eyes were searching your face when next you looked at him. “Go ahead and ask me,” you said suddenly, your eyes soft and perceptive.

Daryl gulped and looked down at his boots. They were scuffed with dark earth still from all the mad running in the forest the day before. He felt like his heart was in his throat. “Ask ya what?”

You shrugged and turned slightly more toward him. “Whatever it is on your mind. We might as well get started catching up, right?”

Daryl nervously licked his lips. He wasn’t going to ask you whatever was on his mind… because a lot of it he was still navigating himself and some of it was—well, it was too soon. But you were right, he had a lot of questions and he was sure you did too. “I guess—might as well start at the beginnin’. Atlanta. What happened after—after the walkers?” Just the thought of it dropped his heart from his throat down into the pit of his stomach.

You pulled in a deep breath. You could still see it all so clearly in your mind’s eye, as if it had just happened moments before. It was like it had been crystallized into glass. It was almost tangible. You could smell the moist rotting flesh. You could see the vaguely yellow or pink tinge to the whites of their eyes. You could hear the gnashing and mawing and growling. “I—I ran.” Daryl watched your brow furrow and cast a shadow over your eyes again. “I just ran, until I couldn’t anymore. And then I got into this building but the dead—they were all around it like a flood…” You ducked your eyes. “I was trapped in there for a day and a half before something must have led them away or they just lost interest. I got out. I tried to get back to where I had lost you…” Your fingers fiddled with a worn spot on the edge of Daryl’s blanket. “But I’d just run wildly to escape and I didn’t know where I was. I’d run so far and I just—I didn’t know.” You paused and pulled in another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was in pretty bad shape by then. I hadn’t been able to find any water so I went back into this high rise and just started looking for supplies, thinking I’d find something to eat and get some water and then get back to where we’d left the car somehow… I knew you’d go back there to look—”

“I did.”

You nodded. “Yeah… well, I never made it back. I’m sure you knew that. I don’t know if it was just having spent so much energy and being dehydrated or if it was the pregnancy but—I must have passed out.” The shadow that veiled your face seemed to deepen. “That could have been it right there… Some walker could have wandered into me and that would have been it. But instead, when I woke up, I was in this little dingy apartment. This young woman had found me and somehow brought me back to her place. She wasn’t that much younger than I was at the time and it was just her and her mom in this little one-bedroom place, holed up since the fall. They were surviving by scavenging supplies from the rest of the building and hadn’t even really gone down to the street. Of course, I wanted to leave as soon as I had any strength back but then I was getting sick all the time from the pregnancy. Baby DJ didn’t like most canned food at the time and unfortunately that was mainly what we had,” you said with a dry laugh, shaking your head. “And the longer I was sick, the more I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to find you. When I finally was able to keep some food down, I started heading out into the city but it was useless—I was just wandering aimlessly, running the risk of meeting some serious trouble.” Your hand went to your stomach as if you were remembering what it was like to be alone and pregnant with DJ...

Daryl’s expression was soft and sad as you met his eyes again. “‘M so sorry,” he said.

You gave him a sad smile. “It’s not your fault,” you replied gently. “But I knew eventually that I couldn’t stay in the city any longer. Maria and her mother were kind to me… but I worried about what was going to happen to them in the long run. Supplies were getting more and more scarce and—I was amazed they’d managed to last two years the way they had but—” you paused and shook your head, a look of distress tightening your features briefly. “I tried to convince them to leave with me, but they wouldn’t. So, finally I just left. I found a working car and packed it with as many supplies as I could find and I headed out.” Your gaze fell down toward your hands again on the edge of the blanket over your shoulders. A canyon appeared between your brows as you remembered having to make that horrible decision. “That was where I felt like a line had been drawn… until then I could tell myself that maybe you were still in the city, still looking for me, or maybe you’d come back with everyone and you’d gotten Beth and you were just waiting for me to show up at the car or—I don’t know. Then I kept having this dream.” The look in your eyes grew far away. You seemed to shrink back into some other deep pool. “I could see you and hear you. You kept calling my name, but there was this glass between us and you couldn’t see me. I’d yell and pound on it but you couldn’t hear me… It was horrible. I’d wake up crying. When I left Atlanta, I knew that I could go out and try and look for you, but there was little chance of us ever finding each other again.” You blinked away the moisture in your eyes and finally lifted your gaze back to Daryl. There was pain so explicitly written across your face that Daryl’s chest ached and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around you.

“Mighta been only a little chance,” Daryl drawled. “But it was big enough.”

You gave him another sad smile. “Wish it hadn’t taken so long.” You sighed heavily again. “God, I really missed you… I can’t even tell you how much. And DJ has missed having his dad around for almost a decade. I’m so sorry you’ve missed out on so many milestones with him.”

Daryl nodded and felt a lump of emotion tighten in his throat. “S’like ya said though. Ain’t yer fault. And we found each other now.”

“Yeah… still is real shitty though that we had to go through that,” you said with a wry laugh. Daryl nodded his agreement.

“What happened after ya got outta the city?” he pressed you. He felt the need to know everything that had happened since you’d been parted. Nothing, no little hurt, no little joy, was too small, but it was a lot of ground to cover and for now he’d settle for a summary. The details would have to come over time, building up a complete timeline of your two lives, split apart.

“I was alone for a while. Getting more and more pregnant and absolutely terrified about that,” you said with another dry smile. “I was moving around a lot, always looking for some sign of you. Every arrow or bolt I found I studied, hoping that it was one of yours. But it never was and I was still alone. And then all of a sudden, I just started finding people, you know? Or they were finding me. Some bad and some good… but eventually I had this—this found family, just like you have. The membership changed over time as we lost some and gained others, but there was a core group of us who stayed together for a long time, even if we did have to keep moving. We’d find somewhere and try to put down roots and something would happen—it would fall, sometimes to people and sometimes to the dead. Sometimes to completely stupid shit that used to be more benign but now is a catastrophe—severe weather or fires or whatever. We’d move again… Eventually, we stumbled onto this gated community near the coast and I just knew it was where we were meant to be. It was somewhere we could make safe and actually turn into a home. It had strong walls. It’d be safe for DJ to grow up and learn. I was so tired from all the running by that point… From what Maggie has told me, it wasn’t that different from what you found, from Alexandria. Of course, the pressing problem was that it was filled with the dead when we got there.”

It wasn’t lost on Daryl that you were speaking of this home in the past tense and he understood from the little Maggie had said that it fell to the living, not the dead, this time.

“But we managed it,” you said with a smile. “We drew them out and led them away and killed the rest. We set up homes and grew our own food. We had a governing council and school for the kids. It was still hard but it was good. It worked, for a long time. And then—” Here, your voice failed and face fell again and Daryl thought he caught a glimpse of tears in your eyes.

“Hey—” He was brave enough to touch you lightly on the shoulder. “We ain’t gotta talk about that yet,” Daryl said. “If ya ain’t ready—it can wait. Really, if it’s too much, all this can wait.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Maybe once I’ve had more time to process everything that’s just happened in the last couple days and have a little more distance from it.” Daryl shifted and nervously scratched at a non-existent itch on his head.

“What are—I mean…” Fuck, he didn’t know how to ask this. “Uhh—what ‘bout now?”

You gave him a questioning look and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. You waited patiently.

Daryl rubbed a hand over the back of his neck anxiously. “I just mean—what are yer plans… I guess, is what ‘m tryin’ to ask…” he trailed off and you could see that he was nervous.

You realized he was trying to ask you where you were going next. “Daryl—” Your angled your body more to face his and the blanket he’d given you slipped from your left shoulder. Your knee almost bumped his. “My plan is to take DJ and go wherever you’re going. If you’ll have us?”

A wash of relief spread from the top of Daryl’s head all the way down through his toes. The sensation was like a subtly electric tingling, a cooling wave, and he felt his muscles relinquish their tight grip on his bones.

You were looking at him now with one brow quirked up. “Did you really think, having just found you, that I’d take DJ and go somewhere you aren’t?”

Daryl let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. “I dunno what to think… I still ain’t sure yer sittin’ right in front of me, or that any of this is fuckin’ real…”

He started briefly as your hand found his and rested over the top of it. You gave it a gentle squeeze. He gulped and met your eyes again. “It’s real. I promise,” you said softly.

Daryl nudged his nose up at you in a nod and tried to suppress the tears that were starting to blur his vision. He blinked them away. “To answer yer question… course that’s what I want. Come to Alexandria. Please,” he said. “It’s still home, though it’s a bit worse for wear righ’ now, but—we always bring it back.” Daryl noticed then that the blanket had slipped down and he reached over and pulled it back up around you. His hands rested lightly on your shoulders after he replaced it and there was some thickness in the atmosphere that materialized between you. You were looking right back at him with bright eyes and he felt as if he was on the brink of something… something much bigger than himself.

“Mom?”

Both of you startled a little and you shot to your feet. DJ was standing in the doorway of the shipping container, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah, honey. Right here,” you said, smiling at him. You could still feel where Daryl’s hands had been on your shoulders almost as if they were still there. The blanket he’d just pulled back around you was now pooled on the railroad tie where you’d been sitting. You grabbed it and handed it back to Daryl. “Thanks,” you said, quite sure your cheeks were flushing a little pink. The dimness of the morning light may have saved you from him seeing that blush. You rested your hand lightly on his shoulder as you moved around him and went to DJ in the doorway. Daryl watched you disappear back inside with a sigh.

He nestled the edge of his thumbnail between his teeth and bit down hard, chewing it anxiously as his mind again whirred. He realized that it had quieted while you were here.

“Hey.” Maggie’s voice. She had a knowing smile on her face.

Daryl straightened up. “Hey.”

“Everythin’ alright?” she asked, pacing closer.

A dry laugh escaped Daryl and he paused for a moment thoughtfully. “Yeah… Fuck yeah.” Maggie laughed despite all the loss she’d suffered in the last few days. He stood and Maggie thought it looked like some flame had been kindled in him that she hadn’t seen since he’d lost you so long ago. _ _ _ _ _ _

The journey back to Alexandria on foot was long but blessedly uneventful. Daryl stuck closely beside you and DJ and before long the two of them were talking. DJ had started it. Daryl felt him looking up in his direction earnestly and glanced over. Daryl gave him a tight smile as his heart started to race with nerves.

“How heavy is your crossbow?” DJ asked him.

Daryl slung it off his shoulder. “Ain’t heavy at all. S’built to be light. S’only five and a half pounds. Wanna see?”

DJ considered him for a moment and then nodded. Daryl held it out to him and DJ held out his own little recurve bow, which Daryl took in return. Although it was light, the crossbow was a little unwieldy in DJ’s small arms, but he looked up at Daryl and grinned. Daryl felt a wash of some unexplainable feeling. You were watching the whole interaction with a blossoming bloom of warmth in your chest.

Daryl inspected DJ’s bow closely, testing the draw length and smoothing his hands over the wood. “This is a good bow,” he said, admiring the glossy red wood that made up the limbs and the riser.

“Mom made it for me,” DJ said.

Daryl smiled and glanced over at you briefly before looking back at him and holding it out. “I thought she might’a.” He held DJ’s bow out to him again and took his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder in a well-practiced motion that was mainly muscle memory. “Ya know, yer mom is pretty good at just about everythin’ she does.”

“I know that,” DJ said in response.

“Well, did ya know there’s only one thing I’ve ever seen her completely fail at?”

“Excuse me?” you interrupted, laughing.

DJ looked between you and Daryl. “What’s that?”

“Snipe huntin’,” he drawled, shooting you an amused glance. You laughed heartily and then shot him a look.

“Daryl, you better just be quiet over there,” you said through your laughter. DJ was looking between you and him.

“Snipe?” he asked.

“Yep,” Daryl said with a nod. “They’re real rare. Only way to hunt ‘em is to go out in the woods when there’s a full moon. And then ya gotta call ‘em out.”

“How do you do that?” DJ asked eagerly. You couldn’t stop smiling to yourself and Daryl stole another glance at you, just to see your lips curved happily.

“Ya gotta be real quiet. Find someplace to hide. And then ya use the one essential thing for snipe huntin’… a spoon,” he said seriously.

“A spoon?!” DJ repeated shooting a confused look at you that drew a full laugh from your chest.

“Yep, a spoon!” Daryl said again. “I thought ya taught him how to hunt?” Daryl asked you, smirking, his blue eyes filled with so much light it almost brought tears to yours.

You laughed again. “I guess I forgot a few things.”

“What’s the spoon for?” DJ asked.

“Ya use it to catch the light of the moon. They’re attracted to shiny stuff, snipe. It’ll bring ‘em right in, every time.”

DJ looked back at you again, perplexed. “I’ve never even heard of snipe,” he said.

You brushed your fingers through his hair. “They’re very rare. You’re better off spending your time in the woods hunting something else.” You shot another look at Daryl and shook your head, a subtle smile still on your face. DJ ran ahead to catch up to Hershel and Maggie and you laughed again before catching Daryl’s blue eyes. “If he goes missing from his bed during the next full moon, I know who to blame,” you said.

“He might be too smart to fall for it,” he said.

“Hey!” You playfully hit him on the arm. “Are you calling me gullible? First off, that was a really long time ago. Second, there is an actual bird that people hunt called a snipe! I thought you were really teaching me something!” Daryl let out a gruff laugh.

“Yeah, but ya shoulda known when I gave ya the spoon…”

“Whatever… you ass,” you said. “We both know that whole thing was just a ploy to get me alone.” You shot him sideways glance and Daryl felt a bolt of electricity jump up his back.

He shook his hair from out of his eyes and ducked his head. “It might’a been…” he admitted. “S’good to see ya smile,” he said suddenly. “I mean, it’s just good to see ya at all… but even better to see ya smile.” His heart was racing again.

You nodded. “It feels good to. Haven’t had much occasion to lately. Though DJ manages to pull them out of me most days.” Daryl hummed a noise of acknowledgment and glanced up ahead to where DJ and Hershel were talking animatedly.

“We’re almost there. We’ll be behind some safer walls soon,” he said.

It wasn’t long before the group came within sight of Alexandria. DJ returned to your side as you stopped and took it in for a moment. Daryl immediately noticed the busy activity of people around one side where a section of the wall was down. You shot an anxious look over at Daryl.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “S’alrigh’.”

Maggie paused and waited for you to catch up. She gave you a tight smile which you returned.

“You ready for this?” she asked you. “There’ll be a few familiar faces and a lot of questions. And a lot of new faces too.”

You pulled in a deep breath and nodded, glancing over at Daryl again. “Yeah. Ready.” You grabbed DJ’s hand.

As you all walked up, the first person you recognized was Carol. She was helping near the wall and her eyes went to Daryl first and then to you beside him. The support she’d been holding slipped from her hands and clattered on the ground. “Oh my God…” She was grinning as she ran over to meet you and Maggie. There were tears brimming in her pale blue eyes. “Oh my God!”

You laughed as she grabbed you into a tight hug and then pulled back to look at your face, clasping it between her hands. “I—I can’t believe this!” she said.

“Me either,” you replied. “It’s so good to see you.” Now Carol’s eyes went to DJ beside you and she gave you a stunned and questioning look, her eyes going wide. All you managed was a nod. Carol dropped down to one knee so she was at his eye level.

“And who might you be?” Carol asked him.

“DJ,” he said, sticking out a hand to her. She smiled warmly at it and grabbed it in her, giving it a hearty shake.

“Nice to meet you, DJ. I’m Carol,” she said. “You can call me Aunt Carol if you want.” He grinned at her.

“He’s heard some stories about you,” you said.

“Well, I should hope so!” she said, standing up. Next, she pulled Maggie into a hug and looked tearily at Hershel, then finally she met Daryl’s eyes, shooting him a look of disbelief.

“The hell happened to the wall?” Daryl drawled.

Carol’s face fell. “Parting gift from the Whisperers,” Carol explained. He nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, glancing back again at the gaping hole.

“Alrigh’… I’mma get everybody settled,” Daryl drawled. “S’been a long couple of days.”

“Okay,” Carol nodded. She gave your arm a friendly squeeze as you moved past her with DJ. “Daryl, hold on one second—” You and DJ waited a short distance away. “Please tell me you aren’t going to stick them in some random empty apartment or house,” she said, her brow furrowed.

He stared back at her and then shifted anxiously. “Uhh—I hadn’t even gotten that far… I was just tryin’ to get us here.” Just then, there was a familiar bark and Daryl looked up to see Dog tearing toward him. Judith and RJ were running behind. “I’ll—I’ll figure it out,” he said hurriedly. He turned his attention back to the newcomers. “Hey! Dog!” Daryl bent down and the Malinois stopped just short of bowling him over, licking his face and wagging his tail furiously.

“Friend of yours?” you asked, smiling down at him.

Daryl scratched behind Dog’s ears and just then had an upsetting realization—shit. Leah.