#giving two of them beards doesn't help and that's a GOOD THING

[heating-element]

The problem with the concept of male socialisation is that it is based on a premise that is fundamentally innacurate, i.e. the assumption that your were raised as a Man and therefor your are, in action and thought at least, more or less a Man and in order to stop being a Man you have to remove this fundamentally Masculine thing that was somehow instilled in you

And yes, it is accurate that there is a series of processes in amab childrens lives that attempts to condition them into whatever their culture of masculinity is, but what it doesn't acknowledge is that the fundamental purpose of this is that you are meant to come out of it with an ability to perform whatever social function it is that designates you as a Man in your culture. That's male socialisation. It's the thing that allows you to signal to Proper Men that you are also a Proper Man so you don't face any consequences. However, when you are not a Proper Man, this is more or less impossible.

Male socialisation for transfems (and queer cis men to a lesser extent) is basically just a long series of friends, acquaintances, family members etc trying to shove you through a hole that you don't fit through. And there's only two things you can do, you can either cut bits of yourself off til you squeeze through, or you can just keep getting pushed, painfully and fruitlessly, and hope they give up.

And neither of these approaches actually works. Because of course, they aren't going to give up. Because, remember, a lot of these people pushing you actually like you. They think they're helping you. And in a way, they're not completely wrong, because being anything other than a Real Man is painful and difficult (largely due to these same people, but that's beside the point). So they aren't going to stop pushing you until you get away from them, a process that is difficult and painful and if you ever go back they will just start pushing again

But even if you shave away all the undesirable bits of yourself, and you cut your hair and grow a beard and wear the right clothes, it still doesn't work. Because you still don't fit right. And they know it. Sexuality and gender are two things that people have a very good sense for. And people will see it in everything. The way you walk, the way you speak, the way you hold a glass, the way you stand, the way your wrists move, the movies you like and the books you read and the colour of your shirt and how you style your hair and how you cut your nails and on and on and on. The very best you can hope for, after years and years of meticulous shaving away, is that you work yourself down from being a tranny to being a faggot. And sure, it is better to be a faggot, mostly, but you still aren't a Real Man. And so they'll keep pushing anyway.

Male socialisation is the process by which cis men become Men, but it's also the process by which transfems realise you aren't a Man, and you never will be, and people will always hate you for it. It isn't the process by which you gain some almighty Male Power, it's a process that uses that power against you because you can't wield it right

[ronearoundblindly]

Hii! Idk if requests are open and it's okay if there not 🥰

but when I read this: "Also, Ari strikes me as a man who would enjoy road head or pull over to go down on you if he's horny or bored or just because. I don't have a reason for that, but it's true. The end."

It's making me feel like we need a full smutty fic of them going on vacation somewhere snowing and this happens because he's bored + horny 👀✋🏼

*ngl, I like the gif. idgaf. Warnings for smut (oral, m & f receiving), obviously. Based on this Who Would. WC 1280

You both absolutely suck at planning trips or time to yourselves--other than spending the night in after work--so, of course, you two over extend before your first legitimate weekend getaway.

Nobody packed!

It took until the wee hours to gather the things you'd need and prepare the home to be left unattended. There was no time for fooling around.

Ari passed out on the couch because clothes were all over the bed for you to visualize 'outfits,' and so he may not strictly be sleepy, just tired and antsy. His free foot won't stop bouncing on the cushioned floor mat.

He isn't subtle in his thoughts.

"How big of a bed did we get?" "Do you think the walls are thick or...?" "How busy is it this time of year? Could we have the hot tub to ourselves?" "Exactly how many layers will you need outside? Is that a lengthy process to take off?"

The traffic thins as you leave the city, but then an accident brings everyone to a dead stop. Even the sky is blocked by the towering trucks on all sides which...can't possibly be why Ari is so irate.

"Come on," he gripes, smacking the butt of his hand on the steering wheel. "Let's just get there."

You have to laugh at such a tiny tantrum from a very big man. It'll be at least an hour and a half (at speed).

"I swear, honey, I thought we'd be..." he mumbles something, scraping through his beard before holding your hand "...by now."

"What was that?" Though you know where this is going, it's worth it to make Ari say it. "What were we supposed to be doing?"

You rub your thumb along his knuckles pointedly.

"Well," he starts, voice low and rich, "I would definitely be buried inside you the very second we were behind closed doors, that's for sure." He adjusts himself in the seat, pawing at his jeans where they grow uncomfortably snug. "If you could only fit in my lap..."

He trails off again, sighing at the mere idea.

click THUD.

You drop his hand to open and shut your side of the cab, a wicked smile curling on your lips.

"One mississippi."

He doesn't take your meaning right away.

"These qualify as 'closed doors' and we are behind them," you simmer. "I can think of at least one way to be buried inside me right here if you're...interested."

Ari freely stares at you and rakes his eyes up and down your body, squinting like the specifics of the offer elude him, but he is all over it anyway.

"Fuck, yes," he growls. "Please." His head swivels around to check all the mirrors before quickly unzipping his pants and pulling his semi-hard cock out.

You tap the gearshift to remind him of his lead foot. Ari gets twitchy when this horny, and there was that one incident.

He throws that sucker into park so fast the metal and plastic actually whine.

Tucking your legs under you, you shimmy to a good angle before replacing his hand with yours, leaning towards his lips only to drop when he moves in, licking the length of him several times, lubing him up to take in your mouth.

Ari's head drops, satisfied though you've barely begun. He's wound tight from all the rushed preparations and can't help but melt into your ministrations. He tugs at his jeans to give you more and more access. The man does appreciate thorough attention.

If there's one thing you can count on, it's that he'll be putty in your hands the sloppier you are, so slowly building up that slick saliva until it drips beneath your fingers at his base blows his mind, every time, without fail.

"Holy shit," he moans, letting one hand rest on the back of your head and the other spread out over your clothed ass. Oh so gently, both knead without pattern or control while his eyes stay slits to watch the road.

They don't really see the road, and he glances down to ration his fill of the naughty scene.

Ari, again, is not subtle in his thoughts.

"You're so hot. Gorgeous. So fucking sexy--right there--uhhnn yeah, sounds like you're enjoying this as much as I am. You wet?" He shoves his hand into your pants to check. "Oh fuck, you are. Careful. You keep doing that--" he doesn't need a lot of fanfare, just focus on the cockhead and coax him with steady strokes "--and I'm gonna blow, sweetheart."

His voice grows hoarse in all his panting.

"Holy shit, are you--so, so close--you swallowing? You're perfect. You're so fucking hot."

Ari's careful not to grip at your head when he comes, leaky and thick, with a roar of relief, but that doesn't stop his finger inside you from plunging deeper and holding you there.

You know exactly the combination to this lock; he knows the combination to your body as well.

He teases you while he comes down, too, absently spreading your arousal back and forth from your clit to your crack. Then Ari chuckles, giddy, a bit light headed, letting his thighs stop their shaking before releasing you.

"Okay...so...are we there yet?"

Only one of the surrounding trucks has begun to roll forward a few car lengths.

Ari hurries to right his jeans and shift into drive, turn signal ticking as soon as possible.

Though it takes a slow and sexually excruciating mile to find a turn off for a 'scenic outlook,' he keeps you on the edge with dirty promises. The parking lot--if one can call a single row of spots barely separated from the highway by a grassy strip a 'lot'--is empty because it's chilly with dense fog, and Ari backs into the very farthest place, ordering you to climb into the truck bed.

It's polite with an edge of desperation, but the phrase "your juicy ass" is used.

Heedless of the cold, he rips his jacket off toned, flexed arms, laying it down for you so that you're not naked against freezing metal. You'd be self-conscious if the entire area weren't obscured by weather and the general incline of the hilly road.

Ari's words have devolved into a series of grunts, groans and moans as he manhandles you into a good position. The way he wraps his arms around your spread legs keeps away almost all of the chill, thankfully, but the fervor with which he dives into your heat is really where the warmth comes from. His tongue and breath are pleasant before escalating to pleasurable. HIs beard roughs up your tender skin in all the right places before the sting is eased by his plush lips.

In no uncertain terms, he absolutely sucks the life out of you, kneading your leg slung over his shoulder and curling his touch into the right spot when you finally chase climax and hump his face. Ari loves Needy-you, Controlling-you, Happy-you, and there's no better way for him to see it than down the length of your body, staring with bright, sparkling, hungry eyes.

He keeps you warm beneath him until you're fit to move, helping to yank your pants back up inch by inch.

Jumping out to offer you a hand down, Ari gets the giggles again, pressing a kiss to your smiling lips. He lingers long enough that you have to slap at his chest.

"We'll never get there if you don't stop," you laugh.

"New rule," he huffs, shrugging his coat back on and running his fingers through his tangled hair, "no roadtrips anywhere over an hour away."

[Main Masterlist; Ari Levinson Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[the-raindeer-king]

part 1 part 2

prt 3 to teen!Ghost (sorry for the wait, it's been one hell of a week lmao)

The only thing keeping you from strangling Price is Simon's hand in yours. Well, that and the fact you'd like to keep your job, but you really don't want to scare poor Simon any more than he already is.

You don't get a chance to respond, when the door swing opens. Soap scurries inside, followed by Nikolai, who joins Price behind his desk. You're not surprise by Nikolai's presence, as he usually hangs around base when the 141 returns, wanting to make sure that they're all doing okay.

However, you're not entirely sure bringing more people into the room is a good idea.

Soap hands you the pudding and water, which you immediately turn and hand to Simon, who stares in disbelief, as if he can't believe you've handed him a pudding cup. He glances up at Soap, who's already retreating back to the door, before looking at you once more.

"How'd you know vanilla is my favorite?" he whispers, as if it's some big secret.

"Little birdie told me," you reply with a wink. The ache in your chest eases when he smiles in response.

Standing, you move across the room to join Price and Nikolai by his desk, leaving Simon to devour his pudding cup by himself. You feel so out of control of the situation, having no idea how Simon changed or how to turn him back. Based on the look on Price's face, you're not the only one feeling this way.

"If you speak to him like that again, I will skin you alive. Out of everyone here, you know better than that," you hiss at Price.

His shoulders tense defensively for a moment, before dropping as he sighs loudly. There's no point in arguing, because you're absolutely correct. Price knows far more about Ghost's past than anyone else on the team, and he does know better.

"Not good with..." Price trails off, gesturing to Simon, who seems to have grown a little more comfortable in the office, looking around the room in silent curiosity.

"Not good with children?" Nikolai prompts.

Price runs his hands across his beard, humming in response. There's plenty of ways to finish the sentence, but he'll stick with the most honest. "Not good with seeing him like this. It feels wrong," he explains.

While it doesn't excuse his tone, you can't help but nod your head in agreement. All of you are so used to stoic Ghost, biggest man in the room, and seeing him like this gives you the same feeling as a bad dream. Like the world has gone topsy-turvy, and you don't know which way is up anymore.

"We need to keep it together. For Simon," you direct.

"For Simon," Price and Nikolai echo.

"Soap. Gaz," Price calls, and the two are by the desk quicker than you've ever seen them move before. You glance back at Simon, who's trying and failing to look like he's not listening in on the conversation.

"What's the game plan, Cap?" Gaz asks.

The plans feels almost too simple, not that you're familiar with how they make any plans to begin with. Maybe it's one too many action movies getting into your head, so you keep your mouth shut as Price explains.

"Gaz, Soap, you're going with Nikolai back to the location of the incident. Scope the place out, strip it of anything that might help us. Take the whole fucking building apart, for all I care," Price tells him. While they're gone, Price and you will stay on base. They have two terrorists in custody, and Price is going to have a word with them, see if they know anything that might help bring Ghost back.

Your role in this whole plan is to stay with Simon. Keep him out of trouble and see if there's anything you can do that might trigger a reversal process. Price put more emphasis on keeping Simon out of trouble, but looking at the kid, curled up in his chair, you can't imagine he's going to cause any trouble.

How wrong you are to assume so...

[tiredfox64]

Waiter waiter!!

More giant Bi-han pls !!

(Headcanons,,, or smrhn,,, other characters are cool too !!)

Big...That's It

Yip notes: kitchen burning all around me with my lighter in my hand and the food on fire ...Okay...headcanons are good...custom job...g/t stuff again okay okay

Pairings: Bi-Han x Gn reader, Raiden x Gn reader

Warnings: My headcanons gasp opinions oh gosh

Bi-Han

I said it once and I'll say it again. It's giving Marc Antony and Pussyfoot. Just this big, aggressive guy who has to deal with this little menace that causes so much trouble but he loves them.

That man HATES to have you out of his sight. You need to be in front of him or in his peripheral vision.

If you can't stay in front of Bi-Han you're getting the towel or the leash. He will slam you down into a hand towel and wrap you up like a newborn Russian baby. That small leash that's made for bearded dragons that he bought one day? That's going on you too.

All silliness aside, Bi-Han actually likes you this way. A tiny thing that fits in the palm of his hand.

He likes that you're pathetic and you're forced to depend on him for certain things like getting you food or fighting off ants that try to fight you.

He purposely gives you big slices of food because you look cute shoving food in your cheeks. You look so silly eating baby corn, don't worry it's in a good way. He does scold you if you fill your mouth up too much and taps your back lightly to make you spit it out. Okay...maybe not so light.

You are his stress toy. You will be in a death grip while Bi-Han's thumb rubs against your head. You're an analog stick.

He doesn't trust you to sit on his head. You're gonna pull his hair and he knows it. You can stay on his shoulder.

Bi-Han likes to keep you in his room. You have your own little setup (probably in a huge cage with cloths over it) like your own room. He won't provide you furniture so you'll have to ask someone else cough cough Tomas cough choke to get you doll furniture.

He'd probably keep your room on a bedside table. Anything near his bed will do. He does that so he can have his hand near you. Don't worry he doesn't twitch or attack in his sleep so you won't wake up accidentally because he slapped the table.

This stays between you and me BUT he keeps his hand near you to make sure you're safe. If you're in trouble or struggle to fall asleep, you can tap on his hand and he'll be there to help. He'll bitch about it, sorry. But Bi-Han sure can provide you the best back massage with his two fingers so you can sleep peacefully.

Heaven help the poor son of a bitch who accidentally (or purposely) kicks you. You'll be down, a bit sore maybe, and then Bi-Han will come around and--oh look at that it's snowing blood.

Raiden

Ah yes, such a gentleman who unfortunately shocks you a lot.

Raiden needs to be careful with you after he uses his amulet. If you were at a normal human size you wouldn't be shocked by him once he was done with the amulet. But because you're a little bitty you get quite the shock when he touches you.

Oooo, is someone cooking pollo asado? Oh wait, that's just you.

He is totally fine with keeping you on his head and under his hat. It's safe and comfortable. You stay cool while the light seeps in. You could pass out up there while using his head of hair as your bed.

I genuinely believe this man would have doll hairbrushes for you. It's either Barbie hairbrushes or Ever After High hairbrushes. They were definitely borrowed from Johnny.

I feel like Raiden can cook simple meals and he will cook you miniature versions of those meals. Have a mini omelet.

Gently hold the reader in your hands, Raiden, gently hold them. This man has his hands cupped to hold you.

He's not possessive, he is just scared to have others hold you. Especially Kung Lao and Johnny because of how rough they can be.

You know those bunny owners who have a room dedicated to their bunny? Yeah, that's him but with you. You got a whole penthouse on one side of his room. Boujee ass dollhouse accessories and some great rat hammocks.

He likes to have you near when he meditates. He believes it can suppress your devious rat tendencies. If not, then at least Raiden can keep an ear open for you.

No touching the amulet! He reminds you every week. It's either curiosity or pure stupidity that drives you to go near it with your tiny hands.

Some nights...most nights, he lets you sleep on a pillow next to him. He knows not to roll onto you even in his sleep. Raiden likes to have his little lover close to him. You'll get a big goodnight kiss. Dawh :3

Yap notes: Yes, yes, I know I should be celebrating with family but this Christmas Eve hasn't been spectacular. So I spent some of my alone time doing this. Plus, that g/t curse was getting me again. A week of throat problems, a week of nose problems, a week of car and water problems, random bursts of anxiety and blood pressure spiking. Damn Fishii I said I would get to it! I might have a late Christmas gift for you (but with your luck my family might call me names again and I'll end up working on the whole thing tomorrow). To anyone else who might want to ignore family for a bit by reading, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Now if this damn post just works that would be great.

[ktsumu]

retired apartment neighbour!john price who just misses protecting someone warnings: he's tampering with your stuff, implied home invasion, stalking

belatedly dedicated to @soumies who brainstormed this!!!

-

Your sink isn't working again.

Two months ago, it was a worn washer and something else the repair guy that your landlord sent told you. The last time, the drain wasn't up to fighting anymore.

This time? You don't know what the fuck it is.

Sometimes, you can fix it yourself— save some good money. Sometimes, something's obviously loose, because you remember that you tightened it well the time before. You make it right again and leave it, but then it just drips again. It makes you worry about the day you don't notice the sound and the wood starts to rot.

You've asked down the hallway a bit about whether their kitchens suck too, but they give you funny looks. You don't know why you've got the cursed unit, but it seems that everyone else is doing just fine.

Everyone but John, at least, because he worries about you.

John Price is half-neighbour, half-friend, half-stranger. That's too many halves, but he's big enough to fit them all.

The five months he's lived next to you, he's been nothing but kind. He's caring, funny when you're tired, helpful. You call him Price in passing, John when you need him for something; he answers dutifully to both.

(He's protective, too, frightens boys you bring back for yourself. You guess that nature came with the dog tags.)

He's kind, but you don't know him outside of when you need him, really. Neither of you seem to mind, though, since you're sure he's a busy man and he probably thinks you're too young to waste time on.

Now is one of those times that you need him.

The wrench in your cramping hand clatters against your kitchen floor, sweat beading at your hairline and under the neck of your shirt. It's the hottest night recorded in a decade and here you are; working on your fucked up sink instead of taking a cold shower.

Being too loud isn't a concern— your hallway is full of rabbits and your building manager lives below you; you hope he hears you groaning.

When you hear a knock, knowing who it's from, you start to care a little bit.

"Everything right?"

"I'm fine," you tell him, but it's wheezy. "Sorry for being loud."

Price simply opens your door, enters your home. It's barely ever locked when you're here, you aren't as careful as you used to be. Sometimes, if he's talking to you, he walks right in.

You never really say anything about it. You don't mean it as an invitation, but it comes out as one.

"It's that sink again?"

"How'd you know?"

Price is already in your space— looming over you, squatting to a kneel. One of his hands guides you away from the cabinet and you follow him without question.

He takes the wrench you gave up on. "S'always the sink with you, kid."

You see glimpses of history in Price. Like how he slides himself under your sink even though it's small, almost silent. Like how he grips your rusty wrench like a knife, backhanded, thumb closed over the handle's end.

His skin is covered in sweat, too, dewy under your kitchen light. It beads by his beard.

There's an ugly grind of metal versus metal, something tightening or being forced back into place. Price drops his thick arms again, lifting himself out from under your counter, and he hands you your tool back.

"How did you," you trail, "how did you know—?"

"Knew where to look, love." He laughs quickly when your face is blank. Price is taller than you remember when he stands, leaning on your kitchen island. "I've seen worse than some sink pipes, yeah?"

Of course he has.

It's why you mostly get him to fix things up in your place. Always knows what's wrong with your stupid apartment.

"Yeah, sorry."

Price doesn't leave when he helps you, either.

He waits, eyes trained on you when you get around your kitchen, getting the water jug and your tray of half-frozen ice cubes, asking if he wants some water. You think most people would kindly refuse, but Price always sticks around.

This time, though, he seems like he's gotten his fill, eyes lidded as he waves a hand when you go for the fridge. "M'good, love. Just call me when it goes again."

Your kitchen is uneasy. You know it isn't him, and it's probably you and the stress from the fact you can't sleep in the heat. The AC sounds like it's fighting in your window.

"How do you know it's gonna break again?" you ask. You know it sounds dumb, because you know your whole unit is a bit of garbage, but he's quiet. "Didn't you fix it well?"

John isn't looking at your eyes, he's looking at where your arms are crossed over your chest, hiding the sweat under your arms and collar. He's looking at your bare legs.

"I did," he assures you, always. "It's just a bad sink, lovie."

Just a bad sink, s'all it is.

"Yeah, it is, huh?" you ask, breathing a laugh at the stupidity of it all. At this rate, he'll be coming in to help you until you move out.

He steps toward you again, resting a heavy hand on the small of your back. You don't realize, don't even notice the fact he's nearly guided you out of your apartment until you're at the door.

Are you seeing him out, or is he seeing you?

John feels intimate when he's this close— head tilted, brows slightly raised, thumb tapping on your spine.

"Call me next time, alright?" he tells you, like you'd imagine he'd coo at a rescue. "I'm always around.”

You just nod. Something is pushing you closer and something is pushing him out.

"I will, promise."

"Have a good one then, kid. Take it easy tonight.”

"Thanks, John. I really, really appreciate you helping."

"Just what neighbours do, aye?"

He waits by the door as you close it, watching your smile just as you watch his, warm like a fire. Something makes your hand rest on the lock.

(You know you shouldn't need to, but you kneel in front of your sink when he leaves, knees pressed against the cold floor.)

Something itches in your stomach, not intuition but not ease either, nipping at the back of your brain. You almost feel stupid, using your phone flashlight to feel around the pipe that's never right, looking for something to tell you that you aren't acting crazy for doing this.

There's something you remember seeing earlier, right? Something obvious that you checked to see if it was the issue, or something you replaced last time, or something you paid for.

Your fingers feel nothing where there should be something— a piece is definitely gone, a washer or a nut, maybe old putty you remember cringing at.

It could be lost under the lip of the cabinets, maybe. Maybe that's where it is. It isn't him, surely. He wouldn't do that. There's nothing for him to do that for.

John Price has does done nothing but be kind to you— who are you to blame him for anything?

-

A missing handful of little metal pieces is dropped into a duffel, out of his fisted hand. It clatters against the rest of them.

[shirefantasies]

Hello! I would like to request a little prompt if you'd want to do it. Kili/Reader where Kili is insecure about not looking "dwarfish" enough; hard time growing a beard, and being seen as too young for stuff. The reader has to comfort him, maybe with some hair braiding and fluff. I just wanna see my little boy getting the love he deserves. If you'd be comfortable with it could the reader be male presenting, otherwise gender-neutral is cool too. Hope you have a good day :)

Bro sorry this is so late but hope you enjoy friend 🥰

Warnings: one suggestive joke

See Me- Kili x GN!Reader

Sometimes it simply shocked you how beautiful Kili was. Your One, the apple of your eye, he whose smile alone lit up your eyes like the whole of the stars. The way his long black locks tumbled effortlessly over his shoulders. Looks of focus that overcame his handsome features as he took a shot or when he attempted whittling.

It would have never occurred to you to think he'd never be enough. In fact, you had to suppress a laugh when he first expressed this concern, not out of finding his struggles humorous but simply a sound of pure incredulity, the same reaction you'd have had to as blatant a lie as someone telling you the sky was green.

Kili had been sitting by your side on watch, only you two awake for the chill wind of the night as the rest of the company stayed wrapped up in their bedrolls. Wistful in the breeze, he'd been thanking you for caring about him so much as he leaned back on his log, one leg crossed over the other and one hand fidgeting with the edge of his boot to match the nervous downward shift of his gaze.

"It's hard sometimes being the extra brother, you know? The one the future king's always standing up for."

"You are one of the strongest people I know," you gaped, "And I have no doubt you would do the same for him. And what is this of being the spare brother? Fili and you are nothing alike. Both of you are blessings to your family. Both of you are kind, strong, and selfless, yes, but you are bright and daring and dare I say fun in a way that he is not. There is no comparison."

"That's just it, I guess. Being the fun one doesn't help them always thinking I'm still a kid," he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Fireglow flickered around his handsome profile, illuminating the vulnerable shine in those deep brown eyes you so loved. For once, all the confidence, the bravado he was always able to summon in the company's presence, had melted away. Kili was no child, but you could see the helpless boy within making his slight emergence. No matter, though. Who could see this dwarf man, this one who made you feel so strong and so safe and made jokes that never failed to flare warmth beneath your skin, and see a boy?

"Your mother?" You asked, leaning closer and resting your hand upon his arm.

"Everyone," he shrugged, looking up and giving a small smile to your contact, "They tell me I'm tall for my age or ask what is wrong with me that I haven't a full beard. They see my brother, proud and golden-haired with those great dangling braids and say there goes the future king. Then comes me, the princeling who gets to have fun, the one lucky to live in so many great leaders' shadow."

"I love my brother," he hastily amended, waving his hands, "None of it is his fault and I do not want his life, his possible throne. Moreso it's the way they expect me not to care, not to have a bother in this world. So I guess I grew into giving them what they want. Acting like just that. Suppose that's part of why I rush into things so. Some part of me hoping I'll prove myself this time. Make up for the times Fili had to rush to my defense from some bully picking on me before I vowed to show them."

As Kili's words trailed off, you shook your head, eyes still shining into his with purest disbelief. "If only you could see what I see. See not only your beauty, but your heart. A beard doesn't make a man, after all, a heart does. And yours is bold, resilient, and would do anything for those it loves. In turn it loves freely and acts courageously, even when the world would have it falter."

A smile crept its way back onto Kili's lips at your words, his dark gaze going a bit bashful. Firelight overtook more of it as he shyly swiveled back away.

"A real man defends those he cares about and those who cannot defend themselves. He knows who he is and fights just as strongly for that. Just like you when you stood up to those imbeciles who mocked your archery and became an expert with a bow. When I look to what being a man means, Kili, I look to you. Now come here. Turn around."

Looking a bit puzzled, Kili obliged, rotating in his seat to face totally away from you, that flickering glow glistening off the long black locks that now faced you. You ran a hand through them, relishing in their softness despite the bristling pine needles that fell from them and dirt that had surely caught there. Running your fingers again and again, you combed carefully through it all.

"You take such good care of us. Of your mother, who gifted you a beautiful promise to return to her arms. Now let me care for you."

Wordlessly he nodded, melting into your touch as your fingers caressed his scalp, running through his hair one final time before you began separating the flowing locks and braiding them.

"Great dangling braids, you say? Great dangling braids you shall have, and I daresay they'll be more than a mite longer than Fili's."

"Not the only thing of mine longer than his," Kili shoots back, turning his head enough to give you a wink.

Smiling and giggling, you swatted his shoulder and shook your head. Deflection or not, your heart was warmed for the return of Kili's humor. You would do anything it took, you reflected as your hands worked at weaving his hair, to keep his smile present. After all, you knew he would always do the same.

Your rock, your strength, your heart, your One. Words you spoke to him over and over that night until they stuck, and if they never did, well, you would be right there to speak them again. To be Kili's eyes and see him for all the beautiful things that he was.

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[offsidetracked]

Don't worry @ven0moir you're not alone in the trenches, we're going crazy together in real time 💀

I have to admit that bychance felt mostly like a fun crack ship at first. Why not you know, he's attractive, Will deserves some fun, I like drama, let's go. But the more I twist and turn it around the more it feels like an actually... good and not at all farfetched subplot. Huh. Whaddaya know. Well, let's get into it.

For me it comes down to mainly one thing;

A bychance storyline would serve Will and Mike's individual character arcs and help pave the way for byler

@ven0moir has already made a great point about how Will having some prior experience would give him more agency when byler eventually happens. And Mike is long overdue for a rude awakening: his undisputed spot as Will's most important person will not go uncontested forever. One way or another, the show has to address how uncomfortable this realisation will make him. And force him to confront what that means for the nature of their relationship. Bychance is a simple and effective way to accomplish exactly that. And honestly, if Mike is going to be a jealous confused mess in S5 (it's for your own good Micheal), give him something to be actually jealous about.

So far the show has given us mainly one flavor of internalized homophobia. Mike hides, he plays pretend at heterosexuality with a beard girlfriend that he, although he likes and cares for her, isn't attracted to. Bychance would be a juxtaposition to Mike's coping mechanisms by having Will go the complete opposite route.

Will already believes he has no chance at a healthy, mutual, romantic connection. So why not engage in a toxic situationship with someone he doesn't like or trust but is sexually attracted to? The world is ending anyway. Might as well.

It wouldn't be strange at all.

Will has been valiantly holding out so far; being happy for whatever kind of intimacy he can have with Mike. There's been cracks in that facade however. The rain fight, destroying Castle Byers, the argument at rink-o-mania... all point to the fact that Will, for all his valor and selfless behaviour, actually holds a great deal of frustration, maybe even resentment, because of the situation.

Would it really be so weird for him to act out and seek some sort of relief, if the opportunity presented itself?

We already know that temptation will most likely play a part in Will's arc this season. Vecna could very well be involved in manipulating a bychance situation. Separating Will from his support system would make him vulnerable and potentially more receptive to Vecna whispering promises in his ear later on. What better way than to lure Will away with a twisted version of what he actually wants? Juicy🧃

Throwing a wench in Mike and Will's relationship is also crucial if Vecna wants his plan to succeed. Those two have proven to be absolutely lethal when they join forces. Bychance could be a way to make Mike feel like Will has gone to a place he can't follow. At least not until he confronts the less than platonic feelings he has for his best friend.

Anyway, what it comes down to is Mike and Will showcasing two diametrically opposed but equally toxic coping mechanisms. Both being consequences of internalizing the belief that this is as good as it's going to get. Ugh my heart 💔

Bychance could, if played right, help deliver a really powerful message about the more insidious consequences of homophobia and what a hateful, intolerant society truly does to a person. Underlining one of the core lessons of the show;

When you betray who you are by trying to conform things go wrong

Forced conformity really is killing the kids.

We're also in the final arc of The Five Arc story structure. That means one thing and one thing only; catharsis.

Everything is coming to a boiling point and the lid will blow in a number of ways. Especially when it comes to byler. Things must implode, explode, for both of them. Only then will they have to stare truth in the face and actually deal with their feelings for each other. And what living a life that is truly their own would mean.

Sure, you could do all this without bychance.

But it would be a neat and simple way to do it. And there are things in the show that could be interpreted as hints towards it (@ven0moir and @cypherheartnokey have made posts about it). Some of it could be reaching, but not more of a reach than some stuff we bylers regularly parade around as evidence for our ship.

This is a show that goes crazy hard with foreshadowing and self-referencing after all so... yeah. You be the judge. Whether it will happen or not is anyone's guess.

But I actually wouldn't be mad if it did.

[ghcstpyre]

*•.¸♡ nsfw alphabet with ted logan x f!reader. MINORS BEGONE!

cw: cis female reader, obviously nsfw themes, drug use (weed)

A - AFTERCARE. (what they're like after sex)

so. many. cuddles. cuddling is always one of the first things ted wants to do after sex, regardless of how sticky and/or sweaty you both are. and it's only once you decide you feel a bit too gross that he finally peels himself away from you to fetch a towel to wipe you down, telling you how amazing and beautiful you are, how much he loves you.

B - BODY PART. (their favourite body part on you and on themself)

ted is a boob guy. doesn't matter the size, shape, or colour. every chance he gets, he's touching and groping them and he especially loves teasing your nipples during foreplay or when he's trying to rile you up.

as for himself, ted loves his hair! he takes really good care of it and it's unbelievably soft. 

C - CUM. (anything to do with cum)

listen. ted is a sprightly young man. he's horny and so into you, when he cums, he cums a lot. he can go multiple times too - most of the time he's still hard post-orgasm and can't help but push it back inside for an immediate round 2.

creampies make him a bit nervous so he usually only does them when he's either a) stoned, b) drunk, or c) so consumed with lust he can't bring himself to pull out. ted's favourite place to cum is on your chest or in your mouth.

D - DIRTY SECRET. (a dirty secret of theirs)

ted is a panty sniffer. if you're in a relationship, he will 100% steal your panties and press them against his face while he gets off. alternatively, he'll wrap them around his cock and cum in them.

if you're just friends or only hooking up, he'll be incredibly tempted to steal a pair. but he's a respectful guy and knows that would be crossing a boundary, so instead he just fantasises.

E - EXPERIENCE. (how experienced are they?)

teddy boy isn't experienced. at all. the closest he's gotten to some action begins and ends at making out and some light over-the-clothes groping with a girl at a school dance when he was 16.

having said that though, he is a really good kisser. like, leaving you weak at the knees kind of kisser. and he's a fast learner, so if you wanted to teach ted a thing or two in the bedroom, it wouldn't take him long to get the hang of it!

F - FAVOURITE POSITION.

ted thinks you look amazing from every angle, but his favourite is cowgirl. he loves loves loves it when you ride him - on the bed, on the sofa, front and back of the wyld stallyns van, anywhere it's viable. he loves being able to see your pretty face while he's inside you, grip your hips, and watch your tits bounce as you fuck yourself on him.

G - GOOFY. (are they more serious during the moment or are they humorous?)

he can be serious if the moment calls for it! but ted much prefers being able to laugh and be a little silly. he doesn't get down on himself or frustrated when something doesn't quite work and will instead crack a joke, laugh with his partner and carry on. he wouldn't be able to be with someone who wants it serious all the time - that's way too much pressure.

H - HAIR. (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes etc?)

unlike bill, ted is a hairy guy. he prefers to keep his face and upper body shaved, but leaves his armpits, snail trail and pubes (which he keeps trimmed). he doesn't bother with his arms and legs. his body hair and beard grow back really fast so he tries to keep on top of shaving at least once a week or every other week, but that 5 o’clock shadow comes in real quick.

I - INTIMACY. (how are they during the romantic aspects of the moment?)

ted is a complete hopeless romantic. he loves love, and he loves making love. going slow, savouring the moment, gentle touches and caresses, hand holding and kissing and “I love you babe”s all the way through. ted has so so so much love and affection to give, so you better be ready for the most lovey-dovey lovemaking you'll ever get.

J - JACK OFF. (do they masturbate?)

oh yes. he's a young, horny guy so he definitely does his fair bit of jerking off. probably slightly more than average, but it becomes a lot harder to get away with after moving in with bill.

at his dad's house he had his own room and the privacy to do it whenever the need took hold. after moving in with bill he has to wait until he's home alone, or does it in the shower. he once tried to do it while bill was fast asleep, but it felt too weird and invasive and he felt gross as hell doing it with his best friend only a few metres away.

K - KINK. (one of more of their kinks)

ted isn't really a kinky guy. but he is geeky and isn't immune to the lure of a bodacious babe in cosplay. semi-public sex in his van too - one of ted's favourite things is driving to a scenic remote spot, smoking up in the back of his van and getting it on. he likes the risk of it, but would absolutely dissolve on the spot from embarrassment if the two of you ever did get caught.

L - LOCATION. (favourite places to get it on)

i’ve already touched on this, but ted loves going at it in the wyld stallyns van. his top three in order are the van, the bed and then the sofa. one of the things he fantasises about is doing a crazy successful gig and pulling you into the van for a quickie between sets. he doesn't know why, but fucking in the van sort of makes him feel a bit like a rock star.

M - MOTIVATION. (what turns them on, what gets them going)

if you're ever not wearing a bra beneath your top, ted is going to have a hard time keeping his hands to himself. he also very much enjoys the miniskirt with knee-high socks combo. but most of all, he loves a girl in a leather jacket; it doesn't matter what else you could be wearing, because all ted will be thinking about is how badass and hot his babe looks in a leather jacket.

N - NO. (something they wouldn't do, their turn offs)

ted is down to try pretty much anything (within reason) at least once. aside from the obvious few, one thing he definitely isn't into is threesomes/sharing you with someone else. while he hides it very well, ted can be insecure thanks to the years of his dad chipping away at his self confidence. the idea of you wanting to be intimate with someone else while you're with him just doesn't sit right - why would you need anyone else when he has so much love to give you? ted wants to be the only one to make you feel good and special!

O - ORAL. (preference in giving or receiving, skill etc)

he's addicted to eating you out. ted could get off on the taste of you alone (and has done. many times). he absolutely loves the feeling of you squirming and rocking on his tongue, and despite the lack of experience, he's actually really good at it. more often than not, he makes a point to make you cum on his tongue before you get down to anything else.

not to say that he doesn't enjoy receiving head. the sight of you down on your knees with your mouth working over the length of him is permanently burned into his brain, and cumming in your mouth is one of his favourite things. thank god for the existence of 69ing!

P - PACE. (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

both! ted is never quite rough with you - the last thing he wants is to accidentally hurt you. he'll go fast and will manhandle you a bit more than usual if he's pent up or if you're both feeling up for a quick fuck. but if you're making love, he'll obviously go slower and take his time.

Q - QUICKIE. (their opinions on quickies, how often etc)

ted loves a quickie. usually at the most inconvenient of times, too. like right before a family event, before (or during) a house party, or before bill comes back to the apartment after going out to grab a few things from the shop. again, the risk of being caught is thrilling for him, but he also loves seeing how quick and how many times he can make you cum in that short span of time.

R - RISK. (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc)

as mentioned somewhere above, ted will try pretty much anything at least once. if you suggest something new, chances are he's down to give it a go.

S - STAMINA. (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

this boy has staminaaaaaa. he can't do a set of push-ups for shit, but he'll fuck and fuck and fuck as long as you're up for it. he'll cum, and most of the time he'll still be hard and immediately ready for another round. if he isn't still hard, he'll finger you or eat you out until you cum again, by which point he's hard again and ready to go.

he never lasts long each round though. everything about you just feels too good!

T - TOYS. (do they own any toys? do they use them on their partner or on themselves?)

ted doesn't own any toys himself, but if you wanted to start introducing them in the bedroom he'd be down for it. things like vibrators and/or dildos to use on you, or even a fleshlight or cockring for himself if you suggested it. the latter would take a bit of convincing though.

U - UNFAIR. (how much they like to tease)

he's never mean and always follows through on his teasing, but he loves to do it. he loves riling you up with little things: a hand on your waist that slowly slides up your ribs to brush his fingers against the underside of your breast while you walk through the mall, pulling you close while you sit, stoned on a couch at a house party, to whisper dirty things in your ear. 

V - VOLUME. (how loud they are and the noises they make)

ted struggles to be quiet. when he gets the opportunity to be loud, he isn't shy about it. ted wants you to know how you make him feel, whether it's words of praise or moaning. he isn't a grunter, but he'll groan.

W - WILD CARD. (a random headcanon)

sometimes ted will set aside an entire weekend for the both of you to bake weed brownies, get high and stick a bunch of nerdy movies on. but you're both only half watching, because you spend the whole time fucking and lovemaking with breaks in between for snacks and naps and cuddling.

X - XRAY. (what's going on under those clothes?)

for a guy who can barely do 5 push-ups, ted is surprisingly toned. it's all for show though and he mostly works on his arms and chest. he's got a cute squishy tummy!

now for the part of this you're obviously waiting for. yes, his dick is big. about 7-8 inches, slightly bigger than average girth. curves upwards and he's a shower not a grower.

Y - YEARNING. (how high is their sex drive?)

ted has a high sex drive. the pining, the yearning, the thirsting is all real. it's your fault for being so cute and looking so good all the time, even when you've just woken up with messy hair and drool at the corner of your mouth.

Z - ZZZ. (how quickly do they fall asleep after the deed?)

it really depends on how sleepy he is beforehand, where you are, how high he is, how snuggly the post-sex cuddles are and how many times he came/how many rounds it's been. if there's any combination of those things, chances are ted is dozing off pretty quick. whether it's a quick power nap or a full on sleep depends on what time of day it is too!

[greyspirehollow]

Vesuvia weekly ; First kiss with the courtiers 🎉

Pairing : The courtiers x reader

Fandom : The Arcana visual novel

Warnings : none. Just fluff.

Valdemar:

You're the one who initiated the idea of a kiss. You had noticed how affectionate gestures didn't come out naturally or often on their part (at least not in the conventional way) ; and so you wanted to try and gently suggest it.

Confused at first ; They had forgotten what a kiss felt like, or how to do it properly.

They will need to practice by just kissing your cheek from time to time, just to get used to the way they need to purse their lips and the feeling of something against them.

A week or two later, they will gently grab you by the arm and drag you somewhere quiet ; they will slightly push you against the wall, their eyes never leaving yours as they paused, and eventually, they lean in carefully to meet your lips with their own

it's pretty calculated and thought out to begin with, almost mechanical. You didn't blame them ; it must have been a while. As they part away, you gently whisper : "try not to think about it. Go with the feeling..."

And you both go in for another one. This time, they manage to make their lips dance with yours softly for a while, before parting away. You could swear their cheeks had tinted in a warmer hue than usual.

Vulgora:

uhm... Force.

Prepare to have your breath taken away.

They are the one who brought up the idea. Ever since you've been together, you've had your fair share of energetic and violent displays of affection. Whether it was carrying you around while chuckling like a madman or threatening anyone that made you upset ; or having your cheeks pampered with tons of kisses when no one was looking.

They are all jumpy when you agree to come with them in a less crowded corner. They look at you with a wide excited toothy grin as you rest your hands onto their shoulders and start to lean in. You barely have time to process it ; their lips crash into yours with passion.

It's heated and full of energy, yet you can sense they're afraid that it might be a bit too much for you. That doesn't stop them from kissing you so agressively ; but not aggressive in the painful sense, more the overwhelming way. They are so excited, have so much love to give you that they can't think of any other way to convey it all.

Once your lips part, you gasp for air, looking at them, baffled. You know they were a handful, but damn. Not that you minded. "Phew, that was... That was something else." you breathe out, their contagious grin spreading across your own face. Before you know it, your face is getting attacked with kisses again.

Will brag about it in an argument ; "AND I KISS MY PARTNER SO WELL THEY'RE ALWAYS BREATHLESS AFTERWARDS, TWAT!!" or something similar.

Vlastomil:

He has kissed before, he's just not exceptional at it. He's not bad at it, don't make me say what I didn't say ; he's simply good.

You nearly brought up the idea at the same time ; and yet none of you said it out loud. One night, sitting next to each other, you just looked at one another and leaned in at the same time, closing your eyes and meeting your lips with surprising harmony in your timing. This was the moment. This was right. It's as if things had fallen into place : nothing pushed you or held you back.

His lips are surprisingly soft. You'd expected them to at least tingle because of their little beard, but not even. They were a tad moist, but that was to be expected.

Once your lips part you can't help but look fondly into each other's eyes, your hands intertwined, as you just let the moment sink in.

Volta:

The idea had been swirling around in her head for a while now. But she never brought it up. She was much too shy. Holding hands was already making a stuttering mess out of her, so a kiss?? It doesn't mean she doesn't want to, it just flusters her beyond what's reasonable.

When you bring it up to her, the sweet potato will go bright red, nod, and look at you with big expectant eyes.

You have to lean down to bring yourself to her level and she has to be on her tippy toes to reach you. She'll close her eyes tightly, purse her lips and go in for a smooch. It doesn't last too long, maybe half a second, but it seems to be enough for her.

She'll never dare to do anything too involved in terms of kisses, so take it slow with her. But after that, she will tug at your sleeve and timidly ask for a kiss more often (and how the hell could you even think about denying her?).

Valerius:

The most skilled out of everyone. And believe it or not, you didn't even have to think about introducing him to the idea. Ever since you've confessed to him, he knew he would kiss you. And that didn't seem to be negociable. But when would be the right time...?

It was during a party. Just a small annual gathering. But he'd noticed how the nobles seemed to gravitate around you. He didn't like that one bit. He frowned, walking towards your little group, before swiftly snatching you away with a defty hand to your waist and a kiss to your lips

Oh. Gods. You had not expected that at all. His lips linger on yours, the warm taste of wine sweeping across your mouth as he moves his against yours. You can't help but hold onto his shoulders, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. The other nobles, after a while, seemingly uncomfortable, leave you and the Consul alone.

After your lips part, you look at him with a cheeky grin "Did Lucio teach you?", you ask. He groaned, rolled his eyes and swirled his wine before taking a sip out of it "I taught Lucio" he replies, avoiding looking at your eyes.

[blu3-ja3]

Chapter 1: Downtown

Chapter 2

Simon Riley was an excellent soldier... Key word being was. After an unfortunate series of events Simon was deemed unfit for active duty military and was put into forced retirement. From there everything seemed to continue falling apart, his landlord giving him the boot, his job firing him, and the final nail in the coffin; his car being totaled in an accident that he wasn't even around to see. That car was his only life line, he'd been living out of it for months but then it was gone.

Simon did the one thing he could think of and reached out to the one person he knew that could help... And that's how he ended up in the entrance of a random alleyway near Piccadilly Square with all his worldly possession in a box and a large trash bag. He's here to meet up with his old captain and closet thing to a father figure one John Price.

Who has yet to show up which is making Simon anxious, though he doubts anyone could tell. What with his skull face mask and black hood obscuring everything but his eyes.

"Simon?" A familiar voice calls out.

Turning rapidly at the name Simon sees the man he's been waiting for walking towards him from his left. Price is the same as Simon remembers, kind eyes, nice beard and bucket hat. It gives a small bit of comfort to Simon to know not everyone drastically changes when coming back to civilian life.

"Come on, follow me! This cold is doin' horrible things to my leg." Price takes the lead leaning heavily against a cane on his left.

Simon follows quietly behind the man as they make their way further into the alleyway. They turn into a small alcove hidden well, as they get closer Simon can see neon blue light flooding a small staircase leading down.

As they begin to descend down, the walls are covered in graffiti designs that all pop out well under the neon. Simon notices a man standing in front of a door; also covered in the designs. Price approaches and gives the man a firm hand shake before pulling him into a hug.

"I still have to see your ID Price, Mom will have my head if I don't." The voice caught Simon off guard, he's an American and from the south.

"Here you go Graves, Simon got an ID?" Price was looking back towards him with a smile across his face. "Anything will do, this muppet just has to know you're legal to drink."

Simon balances the box in one arm, reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulls out his old, beaten up wallet and produces his ID. It's the newest thing he owns and the reason he wasn't in his car when it was totaled. Small mercies that's all he gets.

"Right you boys have a good time," The american, Graves, opens the door. It's only then that Simon notices the neon sign above it that has illuminated the entire encounter, 141. Simon assumes it's the address of the building.

Price shuffles in followed closely behind by Simon. They enter into a relatively large room with seating and booths taking up a small portion of the area, there's a bar near there with another figure. The vast majority of the space is taken up by a large dance floor, a vast majority of the lights are dim and the only two well lit areas are the bar and a DJ's booth against the furthest wall. Another figure seems to be working behind it but it's hard to make them out.

Price walks over to the bar and leans against it waiting for the bartender to greet him. After a bit of time the young man turns towards Price, he has short dark hair, freckles all over his face or at least where a black mask isn't covering it. He's cleaning a glass as he turns cocking his head to the side like a dog.

"Gary, how've you been?" Simon watches as the man sets down his glasses and begins making rapid hand gestures that Simon recognizes as BSL. Sadly he doesn't know enough to understand what he's saying.

But Price does and they hold a bit of conversation for a bit before Price asks for Mom, who Simon assumes is the owner. The bartender, Gary, gestured up before turning back to his work. Price thanked the man before turning and walking towards the DJ's booth, Simon again follows. Once approached Price calls out a greeting towards the figure, Sam, who keeps working and only raises a hand to wave.

Simon didn't notice the door immediately, it was well hidden behind the booth in shadow. Price walked through a small set of stairs that led to a small hallway with 3 doors, one to the left and right and one straight ahead. The one straight ahead had a little sign on it that read; Welcome to O'Connor's, Play Nice & No Rough Housing In My Bar. Price opened the door and stepped to the side to let Simon in first.

Simon is immediately greeted by a two tiered well lit room. Straight ahead is another door with windows lining the wall, he can see a small cobbled road and paved sidewalks lined with other buildings and shops. There are booths lining the windowed wall and the wall to the right of Simon, the wall to the left of him is covered in multiple pictures and a set of wooden double doors that seem to swing open. Directly to Simon's left is a large bar surrounded by stools with a large shelf behind it that's filled with various bottles of liquor.

There's a man sitting at a booth sitting next to two women all chatting, there's two men sitting at the bar watching the TV that has a football (soccer) game going. Price walks over to the table first patting the man on the back while talking to one of the women. Simon learns the man's name is Nikoli and the couple is Sarah and Kate Laswell. Simon has heard a couple of stories about Nik and Kate while serving under Price before the captain had his untimely accident that took left leg that is now a prosthetic.

Price introduced Simon to Alejandro and Rudy who were the two gentlemen at the bar, when there was a small chiming sound as a man and a woman stepped in and everyone seemed to light up.

"Farah! Alex! I didn't know you two were back in town! How's your family Farah?"

"Hello! We got back late last night, they're doing good. Dad says hello John!" The woman, Farah, gave everyone hugs as the man Alex gives a firm hand shake to Nik and Price.

"Where's Mom?" Alex, another American who again caught Simon off guard. Simon wasn't surprised by Kate as Price made a great many jokes about it.

" She is in the kitchen!" Rudy supplied smiling as he turned towards Price.

"She's making a fresh bre- NO!" Alejandro begins speaking in Spanish as Rudy starts laughing patting the man on the back. Simon is a little caught off guard with the variety of people here, with Nik being Russian, The Laswell couple, Alex, and Graves all being Americans, Farah being from Urzikstan, and Alejandro & Ruby being from Mexico. Simon's thoughts are cut short as the double doors swing open.

A man wearing a similar outfit to Gary's comes in, he's wearing a black button up and black slacks but where Gary has a purple bowtie this man had nothing but in his chest pocket he had a little red pocket square. He's carrying a large planter with multiple plates of food that he hands to those sitting at the table. Once he's done he turns around. When he smiles Simon feels like he's looking at the sun, it's so bright.

"Price! Good to see you, Mom told me you'd be stopping by!" The man steps behind the bar getting drinks for Farah and Alex.

Price guides Simon into the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and simmering beef stew wafted into Simon's face. There was another man standing at a stove humming to music that was being played further into the kitchen. Price walked over to him and leaned against the wall next to the wall and started chatting with him. Kyle was the name Simon heard.

"Oh! Simon just walk towards music and looks for the woman with ginger hair, let her know I sent you..." Price smiled reassuringly at Simon before going back to the conversation with Kyle.

Simon did as he was told and began to walk further into the kitchen following the music playing. He rounds a corner to see a woman with ginger hair, long white sleeve rolled up as she's kneading dough.

"Excuse me? Are you Mom? Price told me to find you." Simon said after clearing his throat.

The woman looks at him and smiles sweetly before putting the dough into a tray and slipping it into the oven next to her. She removes her apron and washes her hands quickly before walking towards Simon. Holding out a hand and as Simon grips it to shake she begins to talk.

"Nice to meet you lad, Maevis O'Connor but most everyone calls me Mom. If you'd like to follow me we can have a proper discussion while we sit..." She steps past Simon guilding him yet again. As they pass Price and Kyle she speaks up again.

"Kyle darling the bread is in the oven, the timers are set. You'll be the only one here, make sure John doesn't burn down my kitchen won't you?"

"Yes ma'am, Shepherd's Pie is almost done so I'll watch for the bread." O'Connor nods smiling so sweetly towards Kyle.

"Oh come now Maeve I won't burn down your kitchen!"

" If you keep distracting my head chief you will... Mind yourself this is my kitchen and I keep my knives very sharp John!" She says as she pushes through the doors holding one open for Simon.

She points towards a small booth in the far corner closest to the door Simon had originally entered from. Simon goes to sit down as O'Connor says a few words to everyone after walking behind the bar and grabbing a small piece of paper. She hands it to Simon before sitting across from him.

Simon looks down to see a small menu with four meals on it. His confusion must be visible in his eyes because O'Connor speaks up.

"Pick one and we'll bring it out for you lad!" The same sweet smile across her face.

"Ah no I'm good, I'm not hungry!" As if to call Simon out on the lie his stomach growls.

O'Connor tilts her head at him but before she can say anything the bartender appears at their table.

"What can I get for you tonight?"

"Nothing I'm good..." Simon says again hoping he stomach doesn't betray him again.

He hears O'Connor sigh before ordering a slice of Shepard's pie then looking to him

"What's your drink of choice lad?" Simon again tries to deny to no avail.

"John! What the hell does this stubborn git drink?"

Price who'd sat at the table with Nik, Sarah and Kate have their own booth eating together, turns towards them before yelling back.

"Kentucky bourbon, neat!" Price smiled at Simon as though he could see betrayal on Simon's face even with the mask on.

"Like a good ol' boy" the bartender gives Simon a wolfish smile that makes his heart stutter and his lower half jump. He's extremely thankful for his mask as it hides his blush that's definitely spreading across his face.

"Down MacTavish, no need for that. You've got what you need here." O'Connor swatted his arm, the man MacTavish laughed hard before ducking into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about him... So you're Simon! I'm sorry to hear about your bad luck lad but hopefully I can help you turn that around. I've got a few spots open for both the bar and the club, which ever is preferred. There's a few potions open in the kitchen and doorman/bouncer for the nightclub." Simon and O'Connor talk about what the jobs would entail and how much he'd make per hour. Simon decides on the bouncer and doorman position.

"Are you still interested in living here? I don't know if John told you or not but you'll have a roommate. MacTavish has a spare room that he's already cleared out and set up. All you have to do is move in, if you're interested."

"Yes, Price told me and I'm more than okay with a roommate." After they confirmed a few details O'Connor left to grab some paper work for Simon to fill out, while walking away she stopped MacTavish who'd just walked out with Simon's food. He sat it down and came back with the bourbon.

"Do you mind if I take this seat? I figured we should chat a bit if you'll be moving in. So I'm John MacTavish but the regulars calls me Soap... Expect for Mom." Again Simon's heart flutters at the smile Soap flashes him.

"Johnny, what's with the nickname?"

"There wasn't an automatic dishwasher when I started working here so I used to do it. I always had soap suds in my hair when I came back to the bar, eventually the regulars took to calling me Soap... It stuck."

"O'Connor mentioned everyone who works here is former military, what did you do?"

"Demolitions! Had a knack for blowing things up, happened to be too close to one of my explosions. Can't hear well enough to continue service... Got to Sergeant Major, what about you?"

"lnfantry, Lieutenant... Psych evaluations didn't go how they'd like."

"Lieutenant huh? Want me to call you LT?" Same wolfish smile and a quirk of his eyebrow, Simon couldn't handle how his heart fluttered.

"No thanks Johnny, Simon's fine."

O'Connor came back with the papers and a pen and sat them down in front of Simon, "Just fill this out and set it on the bar, Tavish your off the clock I'll man the bar. Help Simon get settled in and show him around... Tomorrow's Sunday so I'll train you on what you're expected to do, Simon and introduce you to the team."

"Thank you for this, it's greatly appreciated Ms. O'Connor."

"Call me Mom, lad... I'm sure the regulars will come up with a nickname for you. Goodnight boys." O'Connor walks to the bar as more people begin to trickle in.

After Simon finishes his food and drink as well as the paperwork for O'Connor. The whole time he sat silently while Johnny chatted away, normally Simon would have told anyone talking to him this much to piss off. But for whatever reason he didn't find himself annoyed at Johnny and his constant chatter, Simon even responded and asked his own questions.

"When you're ready, follow me." John wink at Simon who was forever grateful that he's wearing a face mask because the amount this man makes him blush isn't fair. "You got anything else you'll need help grabbing?"

"No just the box and bag... Didn't have much before the military." Johnny nods before leading Simon back through the door he came through originally.

John pointed to the door on their left and lets Simon know that it leads to O'Connor's flat, it's the smallest one. It also leads to O'Connor's office in case Simon ever needs to know.

They go up passing a small landing with a door, which Johnny informed him was Roach (Gary) and Sam's flat. They get to the second landing and stop, Simon learns the Gaz (Kyle) lives on the floor above them and that there's a large roof access that everyone in the building is allowed to use.

Johnny opens the door to reveal a decent sized living room with a dining area and a nice kitchen. There are two doors to Simon's right and another on his left between the kitchen and living room. The door on the left is revealed to be their bathroom which was an okay size just very long. The first door on the right is John's room.

Simon's room is already slightly furnished, there's a big bed against the far fall, a dresser next to the door and a closet in the wall him and John share. It's simple and a lot more than what Simon was originally expecting, he's left to unpack his room which isn't much, all of his clothes fit into the first two dresser draws and everything in the box stays in the box under the bed. Simon leaves the room to put his bathroom supplies away. As he enters the living room he's greeted by an unholy sight that makes his heart stop beating and everything else to rush downstairs.

Johnny is sprawled out over the couch in his work clothes, his buttons down opened just enough for Simon to catch a glimpse of his well built chest and the faintest dusting of brown chest hair. His head is leaned back and tilted at just an angle that the light catches every feature of his face and highlights it gorgeously. His arm on the top of the couch perfectly flexing and his legs spread open just right to make the black slacks he's wearing to strain against him perfectly. He's a vision that Simon wants to devour...

Then he opens his eyes and it's like Simon is adrift in the sea, such a crystal clear blue that swallows him entirely. He can feel himself step forward as Johnny smiles at him like Simon's being lured in. Finally though his brain catches up and Simon clears his throat.

"Where should I put these in the bathroom?"

"There's a shelf next to the bath, half of the cabinet below the sink is yours along with the top two shelves behind the mirror." Simon is quick to lock himself away in the bathroom, he's struggling to keep himself calm. Just by looking at him Johnny has made him an absolute wreck. Simon eventually sorts out where his stuff goes before leaving.

Simon leaves and is greeted by Johnny leaving his room in a simple tank top and sweats. Simon walks out trying not to stare when the man lifts his arms high above his head to stretch and lets out the most sinful groan of relief. Simon felt his mouth go dry and his hand ached as they were curled into fists. This was going to be hard on him but he's sure he can deal.

Simon can absolutely deal with his hot as sin roommate.

[zepskies]

So, how would Ben react if he and the reader went clothes-shopping for him and he overhears the saleswomen talking to themselves about how insanely hot he was (and how they’d climb him like a tree, because hello!) While he’s flattered, he sees the reader overhearing them, and she’s visibly annoyed/upset by it? Up to you if she calls them out on it, or spirals and says nothing, or whatever!

Ooooh thank you for this request, my friend!! ❤️❤️

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female Reader Word Count: 1,100 Warnings: 18+ only! A little smutty towards the end. 😘

Imagine: Getting jealous over this man. 💚

"My clothes are fine," Ben is still insisting, even as you hold up a crisp, black buttoned-down shirt up to his chest in scrutiny.

"You need more stuff in this decade, baby," you tell him. You just think he's taking issue with you picking things out for him.

He doesn't often like to relinquish control, but he's tacitly agreed that you just have a better sense of what's fashionable now. He doesn't mind standing out, but he doesn't want to look out of place either.

And as much as he'd never admit it, he wants to look good.

So you and Ben have been at the mall browsing for the past hour. Express for Men has some interesting finds; you already have a large pile of shirts, jackets, pants, and jeans set aside for him to try on.

Ben has strong opinions, especially on pants. He blatantly refuses skinny jeans, for which you begrudgingly concede. You have to pick your battles with your boyfriend, and this one's not the hill to die on, you think.

So you put down the tight pants in favor of some tasteful dark wash jeans. He eyes this pair also with wariness. "Why the fuck do they have holes in 'em?" he asks.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. "They're ripped jeans."

"On purpose?" he asks.

Oh lord. "Yes, Ben. They're distressed."

"Christ on a cross, so am I. This is what goes for fashion nowadays?"

God, give me fucking strength, you think. But you still smile. "You're gonna look good, I promise you."

So Ben gathers the pile you've created for him, and with a deep sigh, he heads over to the dressing room. There are two saleswomen stationed there. One visibly breathes in at the sight of him as she subtly taps the other one on the hip. Both greet him with bright eyes and smiles. "Hi there! Need a room?" the first one asks.

"Yeah," Ben nods, and she dutifully lets him into the biggest one. It has a cushioned bench and plenty of hooks on the wall for hanging the shirts and pants.

"Need any help laying these out?" she asks. He shakes his head. "No. I'm good, sweetheart."

She giggles a bit, like he's said something funny. "Okay! Well just let me know if you need any help. Like a different size, different color, if you need a belt, or anything like that."

Ben spots her blush and can't help but smile at her indulgently. "Sure." He has no intention of taking her up on her "help," but he knows the effect he has on women. Once she leaves, he closes the dressing room door and starts trying things on.

He's surprised to find he actually likes a lot of what you picked out for him. But then his superior hearing picks up what the women out front are whispering to each other in excitement.

"Oh my God, it's a criminal offense to have that jawline," says the one who helped him. "And that beard? Cut to perfection."

Ben smirks, both in amusement and with a well of pride welling in his chest. Still got it, fuckers.

The other scoffs. "Honey, I'd climb that man like a goddamn tree."

They snicker together, trying and failing to be quiet. "He looks so familiar though, I swear to God."

"Psh. Maybe in your dreams," one teases. The other hums. "Well, he'll definitely be making an appearance tonight...maybe when I'm still awake." Ben raises a brow at that.

"Hmm, looks like he's got a girlfriend though. She picked out all that stuff for him."

He then perks up a bit at the mention of you.

"Ehh, come on. She's gotta be a sister or something. Look at her."

"Aww, don't do that. She's cute."

"Cute doesn't bag a man like that." The other one chortles in response.

Ben frowns. He knew women were petty, but this takes the fucking cake. You're a New York "10," even in your old sweatpants and a bare face.

"What-fucking-ever, bitch. I'm gonna slip him my number. See if he needs any further assistance." Cue more obnoxious giggling.

The other one chimes in. "Ooh, you're bad. But I'm here for it. Get your man, girl."

"Excuse me." Oh, shit. Ben's brows raise of their own accord. That was your voice.

"Yes," one of the saleswomen greets you more professionally.

"I just want to check on how my boyfriend's doing. He's in that room, right?" you ask. Ben hears your tone though. It's clipped, direct, and intentional. He knows then: you definitely heard those twittering broads.

"Yes, right back there," one of the women directs you.

"Thank you," you reply flatly.

Ben smirks as he hears your brusque steps approaching. He checks himself out in the mirror real quick (the white shirt and black pants are simple, but they go well with the black jacket, he thinks). Then he unlocks the door and opens it, right as you were about to knock.

You blink up at him with surprise, and the remnants of a frown.

He leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with a charming smile. "Hey there, beautiful."

Your lips start to form a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Hey." You take in his current outfit with interest and approval. "Ooh, I like this. You look good...how do you feel in it?"

"Good," Ben says, but his eyes are focused on you. "Come 'ere."

He takes you by surprise when his hand guides you inside the dressing room by the waist. He locks it behind you. You look up at him in askance. He grasps your chin and tilts your face up to him.

"What's the matter?" he asks knowingly.

You raise a brow at him, shaking your head. "Nothing. Come on, did you try on this other stuff?"

Ben keeps a stubborn grip on your chin, so you can't turn away from him. "Don't tell me you're letting those maneating bimbos get to you."

Your eyes go wide and you raise a finger to your lips, reminding him to keep it quiet, but he doesn't give two fucks about that. He sits down on the soft bench and pulls you down with him. You sit across his lap and give him a rueful smile, stroking his cheek.

"I'll let you in on a little secret though," Ben says. Your expression crosses between amusement and intrigue. He leans in close your ear. "Jealousy looks fucking hot on you."

You guffaw in response, playfully smacking his arm.

"Hey, easy on the jacket," he smirks, but he claims you with a kiss. His fingers go to the button on your jeans, undoing it and slowly, torturously, guiding down the zipper. You suck in a breath.

"Ben, we can't," you say. But you're already moaning softly in his ear when his thick fingers begin to rub your pussy through your underwear. You blush at the naughtiness of this, even though the thought just turns you on even more.

He soon moves your panties aside to find your wet, soft heat.

You grip his hair tight, trying to bite your lip against a gasp as his fingers enter you, and begin to pulse inside. Your lower belly coils with heat, especially when his thumb finds your clit.

"We're paying customers," he says, with a deepening smirk. "We can do whatever we damn well please."

At the moment, you find it hard to argue with his logic.

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[wingerb17]

You did it. You snuck aboard the ship undetected. They've undocked with you hiding behind the barrels of freshly acquired absinthe, what a success this is! Countless previous attempts had failed, some by mouth, some by fist. You may not have all the hardware the other sailors have on their person, but you've got the heart for the sea and the eagerness to help in your bones. You look around before discarding your cumbersome disguise, considering how much it limited your movement and smelled terrible. You think you catch the eye of somebody on the port bow, looking in your direction...quizzically? Like with a curiosity instead of fear. As if you were some small animal in the alley sniffing its nose in garbage it has no right being snoot deep in. Then, they look away. Phew! Back to business.

Deftly and soundlessly you slither your way to the mess hall, poking your head around the corner bathed in shadow. Empty. What great fortune! You haven't eaten anything in the last two days, though you are careful enough to take the bare minimum without leaving a trace. A small loaf of bread and a banana should be plenty to hold you over, until you're out far enough at sea that it would be troublesome for them to go back to shore to kick you off the boat, were they to discover you. And if they decide to have you walk the plank instead? Well, that's a far better fate than what you had been suffering in the high court's etiquette class.

You hear the door to the mess hall close and whirl your head around, shoving the food between your chest bindings as to not have them in your hands to be taken back. But there's no one there? Maybe some movement behind the porthole, but it's difficult to make out from across the room. Perhaps the rocking of the vessel leaned just right to have it close on its own. No matter, you've got your prize and know the perfect spot to hide undisturbed until morning; the supply closet next to the boiler room. You nod off easily, banana peel tossed in the incinerator and sourdough lining your insides.

Right as the embrace of grogginess gets its tendrils on you, an alarm is sounded. Did they already discover there was a stow away? You hear shouting and feet rushing above you, clearly making out something about the wind gales and deicing the sails. This is the golden opportunity to prove yourself, but it suddenly dawns on you that you don't have any of the qualifications for helping run a ship. What are you even doing here? Why didn't you stay ignorant and out of the way? No time to answer that as the door flies open and a large older man is towering over you. Well, this is it. You've been caught.

"You, piano hands, help me carry this rope, will you?" he bellows

Piano hands? Is that your name now? You lower your voice as deep as it can get, and barely squeak out an "aye aye" as you stumble to your feet. Seems like this guy doesn't care who you are, he just needs an extra set of hands. Probably thinks you belong with the rest of the crew and just needed a nap or something.

Off the two of you go, into the crowd of large and powerful arms, to the station that needs tending with the rope. You now understand why you've been chosen, the holes are narrow and close together, the perfect size for your meager mitts. His instructions are coaching and firm, with the tone of voice someone would give an apprentice on their first day. The task is done with ease, and you receive a somewhat painful clap on the back and a chortle for your work.

The older man is smiling at you, with the same look in his eyes as the man from earlier who spotted you behind the barrels. "Alright, thanks, good job piano hands. Let's get this busted cable to the repair cabin and you can get back to your station." As the two of you carry the compromised equipment below deck, things settle down as the navigator returns to his post. You are both silent in the hall, and upon your arrival a grizzled, heavy-set bearded fellow with an apron and an eyepatch exchanges pleasantries with the older man.

"Alright, Skip, it'll be a few hours before I get these operational again. Is the replacement secure?" The cyclops settles his eye on you. "What's with the mule?"

The skipper lies with practiced ease, "Oh, this is piano hands. You know, the new ship hand we picked up yesterday."

You can feel the approned fellow squint both of his eyes in your direction, then quizzically back up at the guy who's suddenly covering for you. "I don't remember hearing about getting fresh meat..." His gaze settling back on you with noticeably less politeness. Can he see that you're not the right shape?

Your new friend pipes up with an authority you hope you never get on the wrong side of. "Well you know how word doesn't always get around to everybody all the time, Jim."

That seems to have shut him up, as if he recognizes that specific cadence as fact or else. He shrugs and turns his back to us, heading over to his new project. You turn to thank your towering savior, but he is nowhere to be found in the room, let alone right beside you last you saw him. Things are getting awkward around here so you shuffle away without a word and retreat back in the direction of your temporary lodgings. And there he is, leaning his back against the way with his hat tipped down and one leg propped up, a hungry grin on his face. You don't particularly enjoy the fact that this man seems to be able to adapt to any situation, or why he's so fixated on you, but he's blocking the door and staying silent.

With a deep breath and a dropped chin, you try your best to keep up a masculine facade. "Are you going to turn me in now?"

"This is where you plan to sleep?" The response nearly cuts off the tail end of your sentence, with an air of ignoring what you just asked.

Your shoulders tense as you attempt to stand taller than you are. "You have a better idea?"

He is now gazing at you with the confusion he had at the dock. "Yes, and you'd be wise to follow my lead, piano hands."

Feeling without any alternative option, you hang your head and shrug, allowing your voice to return to its natural higher pitch in defeat. "Lead the way."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The tall man, who you presume is named Skip, leads you to the crew's cabins and opens the door to a very nice, albeit cramped, room.

"Don't try anything funny, and earn your keep or else." He points to a chair that seems small for him but dwarfs your own stature. "We have breakfast at oh six hundred and that's where our tasks for the days are assigned. Don't be late." And without another word or pleasantry, he exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

There are so many questions swimming around your head as you sit in the lounge chair next to a propped up ironing board and pile of shoe boxes. Who is this guy? Is he in charge? Why isn't he throwing you overboard? Why did he cover for you at the repair shop? Why did that Jim fellow just take his word at face value despite his suspicions? And most of all, why the hell did you think this was a good idea to begin with? Gnashing your teeth in frustration, slumber quickly envelopes you.

The sun peaks through the porthole directly onto your face and with a jump you check the clock on the wall. 5:45 AM. Perfect, you won't be late. Now that you've rested, you decide to take this gift of extra time to center yourself. Remember why you're here. You had to leave behind the lace and frills or you would die miserable and alone. This is your chance to turn things around, to pursue a dream nobody born of your station would dare demote themselves to. Life on the high seas, the salty wind in your hair and the undying insistence of making your life worth something to the world. You got this, and you will prove yourself worthy of a life that will make you happy.

While lost in your thoughts, you hear the doors of adjacent cabins open and close. Right, breakfast time. You puff up your shoulders again, dip your chin low, and march out of the room with purpose and direction. Among the torrent of bodies and chatter, you blend in fine enough to get in the mess hall, a tray of food in front of you at the table you're sitting at. You bring a fork full of scrambled eggs up to your mouth, and right before taking your first bite, you notice nobody else is eating yet. Then a very fancy man, barely a year or two older than you are, walks to the front of the room, which falls to silence. You put your fork back on the plate.

"Gentlemen! I hope we all got some solid rest. Last night's ice emergency was handled with aplomb, and I am thankful for each and every one of you being a part of this crew with me at the helm."

A soft smattering of applause and groggy cheers floats above the crowd like kicking up a cloud of dust, and then everyone settles back to listening mode.

"Today we're going to need to slightly change course due to weather patterns relayed to us at oh five thirty, so let's eat swift and smart, shall we?"

A heartier cheer lifts up and everybody begins to dig into their meals. While eating, you look around the room to try to find the mysterious Skip, but there's too many bodies and faces to identify any specific person. Not to worry, you know that ropes and cables are necessary for course adjustments, so assigning yourself the station near the sails is what you've decided you're going to commit your day to.

After finishing up and returning your tray, you almost saunter out of the mess hall. Nobody's noticed you yet, or at least nobody cares enough to notice, which is fantastic. The hours go by and you follow various orders barked at you, and the day goes by quickly enough without incident. Every night after dinner, you return to the room Skip led you to, pass the fuck out in that chair you were assigned, and wake up the next day to do it all again.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Days pass by, weeks swim through, and your body is going through some wonderful changes. Your arms are noticeably larger and your core is thicker, and without house maidens bathing you, the hair on your legs has grown to a handsome and respectable fuzz. Every so often your eyes pass the tall fellow, sometimes you even catch him on deck, with the sun in his dark gray hair, the wrinkles on his face when he laughs at a joke, and his signature friendly wave when you make eye contact from across the way. Things are going wonderfully, and you couldn't be happier. Hell, some of the boys even invited you to game night this evening, how exciting! You show up at the meeting place nice and early so as to not keep anybody waiting, and they offer you a chair, introducing themselves by name. There's Kyle, Jorji, Arto, Sahhim, and Greg. From all corners of the earth, joined together in a friendly game of dice. You say your name is Bones, and they just accept it as fact.

The dice games are getting a little more warmed up, some drinks are being passed around, and soon enough there are bets being made. You are surprising yourself at your gambling skills, and enter the pot with a sizable chunk of change. Everyone whistles and declares that the highest roll wins it all. Sahhim, at this point, is out of the pool, but is still watching in earnest. Kyle, Jorji, and Arto all roll above ten, while Greg gets a seven. You excitedly slam your cup down and reveal boxcars. Four of the five groan in good sportsmanship, but Greg glares at you. "Hey, Bones, why are your hands so small?"

This was sudden and out of nowhere, and has caught you off your guard. You stutter out half of a sentence about genetics but the conversation grows more tense as Kyle gets a really good look at you. "Yeah, why doesn't your uniform fit you?"

Arto chimes in, "Those dice aren't loaded, are they?"

You suddenly feel backed into a corner as Sahhim and Jorji eye you up and down with suspicion. It dawns on you that this was a trap, to get you alone, to dispose of you without anyone noticing. You drop your visage in an attempt to appeal to showing vulnerability to ease the hostility. Your shoulders drop and you cross one ankle behind the other as you take off your bandana, revealing long chestnut locks pillowing over your shirt, which now hangs slightly different than it did just a few moments ago.

"Hey... Listen, fellas, we don't gotta be unreasonable about this, ok? I've earned my keep and belong here just as much as the rest of you." The sound of your authentic voice stings your ears, but you are far too inebriated at this point to control your larynx anymore. This stops all five of them in their tracks, their faces a medley of confusion, betrayal, and curiosity, as they exchange unspoken glances with each other. Then they all get this dubious grin across their mugs, Arto taking the lead in the conversation. "Sahhim, go watch the door."

Uh oh. You don't like the sound of that. They reminding four are eyeing you up and down, like grown men in a candy store, eyeing a newfound prize they've entitled to themselves. Your thighs clench and you scoot your chair back, desperate to put more distance between you and your soon to be assailants.

You swear you can see Kyle trying not to drool as he speaks next. "How about we keep your secret? Nooobody has to know. We'll take GOOD care of you...." Suddenly, a yelp and a slam come from the front of the room, and you see none other than Skip holding Sahhim by his shirt collar, glaring at the four boys.

"Hey there, fellas," he hisses, "It's just a game, right? We don't want to start any trouble over a game of dice, now do we?"

Arto blurts before thinking, "This whore 'Bones' is clearly cheating! We can't let her get away with breaking the rules of game night!"

The words slice through you like how Jim slices the lemons at the bar. You don't have the strength to defend yourself, and hope to any gods who might be listening that Skip won't turn on you now that he sees you for what you truly are.

"Nonsense!" He barks, walking over to the group and throwing Sahhim back into his chair. "We're all brothers here! Why would Bones go and cheat like that? You say his dice are loaded? Then use those dice against him." Skip pulls up a stool to close the circle and make sure nobody's leaving. "That only seems fair, doesn't it lads?"

Fully intimated by this performance, all the five of them can do is nod meekly. The air is thicker than fog soup as each of us shakes our dice in our cup. It's simultaneously too loud and very distant at the same time. You roll your death sentence and the numbers come up twelve for you, and a variety of under ten for everybody else at the table.

Jorji's the first to break the seal of silence. "C'mon, guys, let's go. Game's over." The five of them gather their things and leave the pile of coins on the table and shuffle out without another word. The tears that were pressing against your eyelids finally leak down your face as you turn to Skip.

His face, on the other hand, looks gentle and healing, as he sits down in the chair in front of you. "You alright, kiddo? Did they hurt you?"

Stunned by his sudden shift in mannerisms, you squeak out, "I'm ok." Then, before you can blink again, this hulking figure wraps his arms around your frail and shivering body. He's ....hugging you??? You haven't been hugged in months! Everything is happening so fast! All you can do is cry. Your emotions burst out of the metaphysical dam as you sob into his chest. He strokes your hair with a gentleness you never felt from your own father, as you heavily weep in his embrace.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After everything is out of your system and he makes sure you're not injured in any way, he insists on your wearing his coat as he walks you to the cabins. You're too wrung out and disoriented to notice that he's escorted you into his room and is setting up a floor pallet with spare blankets and a large pillow.

"Skip?" Your voice, still unfortunately yours, is weak and raspy, but you clear your throat and try again. "Your name is Skip, right?"

He briefly pauses what he's doing to look up at you. "No sir, my name is Jessie."

You feel so dumb. Of course Skip was never his name. But you have more pressing matters to attend to. "Alright, Jessie. I don't need that many blankets, just one will do fine."

"Oh, no no, this is for me," he states matter of factly. "You get the bed."

"What? Why? What is happening? Why are you helping me?"

He winces at that last question, and you soften your expression from disgruntled to sheepish.

After a few seconds of looking around and adjusting his pants, he looks away and says, "What was I supposed to do, throw a young boy overboard?"

You huff slightly, pleased that he is at least respectful. "You don't have to keep pretending, you know what I am."

He locks eyes with you again, seeming to struggle to hold himself back from hugging you again. "You're a hard worker, a good listener, a strong helper, and a damn good dice tosser. And if you say you're a boy, then you are one."

The sudden return of confidence makes you blush a little bit. You've been admiring this dude from afar for weeks now, and the alcohol isn't out of your system quite yet. "More of a man, but ok I guess."

"What, a young thing like you? Fresh out of school? You'll get there someday, don't worry. It sneaks up on you." He goes back to fussing with the blankets, making sure they're aligned and in a specific layering pattern before fluffing them down onto the floor.

This is probably the funniest thing you've ever heard come out of this man's mouth, and without hesitation, you retort, "I'm thirty seven, Jessie."

This time when he stops, he doesn't turn to look at you, but you can tell his face is flushing. He starts up again to adjust some things here and there, and then sits on his little makeshift bedroll. You're on more alert now, realizing that wasn't what he ever expected to hear. Silence stretches over the horizon of minutes as he seems to be doing a lot of mental gymnastics, shifting his legs here and there, trying not to let you see him blushing. At last, he softly parts his lips.

"Oh."

Now it's your turn to get flustered, because this dude looks like he's past middle aged, so why is he so damn cute? "Oh? That's it? You've been around the block more than a few times old man, you've never mistaken someone's age before?"

His smile spreads ear to ear and he's doing his best not to stare at you. "Bones, I'm only 45."

More silence. More tension. The air is getting stuffy. It's getting really hot in here. The two of you seem like a pair of jousters in a painting, locked on target to each other, not wanting to disrespect the other, but both having the same desires.

It's your turn to speak. "Well. That's a surprise for sure. I suppose I have one last question."

The helpful golden retriever demeanor bubbles up to the surface as he invites you to go on.

"Do you...like me?..."

"Yeah, I uh ...I like you. I like you a lot, actually. But you don't have to feel pressured to do anything about it, I can take you back to your room if you don't feel comfortable sleeping here anym-"

His sentence is cut short by you nearly leaping across the distance between you and planting a kiss right on his mouth. At first he's hands off, letting you take the lead, worried that this might be some kind of trick. After you whisper his name into his ear with your chest pressed against his, you feel his weight shift to allow you more comfortable seating.

His large warm hands gently place themselves around your hips as he looks into your eyes, relief in his soul that you made the first move. "Oh, piano hands..." he coos affectionately.

This makes you playfully giggle a little bit. He chuckles happily in response to your giggle, still a little dazed by the kiss.

"Bones," you whisper.

"Bones, huh?"

"Bones will do," you clarify.

"Oh. Ok... Bones." He repeats your name back to you, enjoying how it feels in his mind. "Alright Bones...May I kiss you again?"

Your legs tighten around his as you wrap your arms behind his neck. "Yes, please..."

Though the two of you do much more than just kiss.

[musette22]

Evanstan AU with handsome small town guy Chris and pretty city boy Sebastian #3672:

One October night, local biker Chris Evans picks up Sebastian, New York-based actor on the cusp of a breakthrough, from the side of the road somewhere in rural Massachusetts.

---

Sebastian is on his way back to New York after shooting scenes for a low-budget movie in a small New England town. He's exhausted thanks to a 5am call time, and frustrated because he's supposed to be past starring in this type of ridiculous Hallmark movie by now, and to make matters worse, he dropped his phone earlier and now the GPS doesn't work, which means he's trying to make his way back to the motorway with the outdated map he found in the glove compartment of his rental car (trying being the operative word here). And then, just when he thinks things have hit rock bottom, the car suddenly sputters to a halt, and Sebastian realizes with a sinking feeling that he forgot to fill up on gas before leaving New York.

Fuck his life, honestly.

He just about manages to steer the car into the gutter before it gives up the ghost completely. Sebastian gets out of the car in a huff, yelling into the void for few satisfying seconds and then giving one of the car's tires a vicious kick for good measure.

He's so caught up in his rage that he doesn't even really register the motorcycle coming towards him until it stops next to his car. And oh great, as if this day wasn't terrible enough, now he's is going to get murdered by a Hell's Angel by the side of the road in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. But then the guy takes off his helmet, and - oh, hello. Sebastian thinks he actually wouldn't mind being murdered by this guy so much. He's a little rugged, sure, but in a handsome way, bearded, wearing leather boots as well as two different types of flannel underneath his motojacket.

"You okay there?" the guy asks, giving Sebastian an amused look.

Sebastian cringes, realizes how he must look to this guy, in his suit jacket and fancy shoes and gold jewellery, throwing a tantrum by the side of the road. But he's got bigger things to worry about right now than looking like an idiot, so he runs a hand through his disheveled hair and answers truthfully. "Not really," he admits. "Ran out of gas and I've got no idea where I am, to be honest."

The guy smirks, giving Sebastian a slow once-over. "I thought you looked a little lost," he says, but before Sebastian can put his hackles up, the guy holds out his hand and says, "I'm Chris. Where were you headed to?"

"Sebastian." He shakes Chris's hand, which is big and dry and a little cold, from driving without gloves on. "Well, I was hoping to get back to New York sometime tonight, but..."

Chris clicks his tongue in sympathy. "Tough luck. If you want, I can give you a ride to the nearest town? You could stay the night at the inn and call the AAA tomorrow? Unless you'd rather call them now. They'd have to come all the way from Boston, though, so it could take a couple of hours."

Sebastian sighs, because yeah no, the idea of sitting here in the dark for hours by himself doesn't exactly sound appealing. As if in agreement, Sebastian's stomach chooses that moment to remind him that the last time he had something to eat was around 10am that morning, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet road. Sebastian shoots Chris a sheepish look.

"There's also a pretty good burger place on the way," Chris says, looking even amused now, before he gives Sebastian's clothes another calculating look and adds, "That is, if you don't mind greasy burgers."

Sebastian can't help but bristle, just a little. "The greasier the better," he says defiantly, before realizing that kind of sounded like an innuendo, considering this guy looks like a bike mechanic. It seems Chris picked up on that too, because he smirks again. Then he holds out his helmet to Sebastian. "Hop on," he says.

"What about you?"

"I'll drive slow," Chris shrugs. "It's only a couple of minutes."

So Sebastian puts on the helmet and swings his leg over the bike, settling in behind Chris.

"Hold on tight."

Sebastian wraps his arms tightly around Chris's surprisingly slim waist, pressing himself up against his back. As they set off, Sebastian has the sudden thought that this day might be looking up after all.

They pull up outside a pub-style bar a little while later. Chris shuts off the bike and Sebastian climbs off, taking off the helmet. "Thanks," he says, handing it to Chris. "I appreciate it. So um, if you could give me the name of that inn, I can just go on on foot once I'm done here and ask for directions or something. Unless it's too far to walk?"

"I could also just give you a lift there," Chris says, tilting his head slightly. "I'm kinda hungry myself, actually. I could eat a burger. If you don't mind the company, that is."

Sebastian really, really doesn't mind the company. He smiles. "'Course," he says, starting to walk in the direction of the entrance. "My treat, seeing as you kind of saving my ass right now." When he shoots a look over his shoulder, he could swear Chris had just been looking at said ass, possibly assessing whether or not it's worth saving. Sebastian hopes the answer is yes.

As promised, the burgers are pretty greasy but also very good. They talk while they eat, Sebastian relating what led him to be stranded in the middle of bumfuck nowhere Massachusetts. Chris smirks, but otherwise doesn't make any snide remarks about Sebastian being an actor, so Sebastian likewise doesn't make fun of Chris when he tells him he's owns a one-man woodworking business. Despite their very different lifestyles and occupations, it turns out they've got quit a lot in common. And unless Sebastian is very delusional, they've also got a ton of chemistry. Chris keeps looking at Sebastian's mouth when he's talking, and Sebastian can't stop himself from letting his gaze linger on Chris's shoulders and forearms. There's a spark there, no doubt about it.

By the time they've finished their burgers and drinks, Sebastian is really hoping he might just be able to stay the night at Chris's place, instead of at some inn.

Once Sebastian has paid, they make their way outside again, walking over to Chris's parked bike. Chris gets on but doesn't take the bike off the stand yet. He rubs the back of his neck, giving Sebastian a look from under his lashes. "So. Where to?"

Sebastian arches an eyebrow. "Thought you were gonna give me a lift to that inn you mentioned." He lets Chris sweat for a moment, before he smirks and adds, "Unless you've got somewhere better in mind."

The corner of Chris's mouth curves upwards. "I might know a place," he says, not breaking eye contact.

They look at each other for a moment, something sizzling in the air between them.

"Lead the way."

****

Chris knows he shouldn't have brought this beautiful stranger home.

He knows he's a hopeless romantic who falls too fast, especially for people like Sebastian, who are gorgeous and interesting and driven and intelligent. He knows that inviting someone like that into his home would make him immediately imagine a future with them that he could never have. He knows that, and at the same time, he also knows he wouldn't have wanted to miss last night for the world.

Sebastian is better than anything Chris could ever have dreamed up, and Chris is so happy that chance (fate?) brought Sebastian into his path. So grateful that he got to spend one perfect night with him.

But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a sonofabitch when he's driving Sebastian back to his car the next day, knowing that in just a few minutes time, he's going to have to say goodbye, and he'll most likely never see him again. Except maybe on the silver screen.

Chris pulls up next to Sebastian's abandoned car, shuts off the engine, and takes off his helmet. Behind him, Sebastian does the same, handing Chris the spare helmet to put in the saddlebags. Chris gets off and turns around. Sebastian's hair is tousled, the golden morning sun catching on it, making it glow. He's wearing an old wax coat over his suit blazer, lent to him by Chris, because the morning air is pretty chilly, and Chris has already learned that Sebastian gets cold easily.

When Sebastian starts to take off the coat, Chris waves a hand and says, "Keep it. It's an old one anyway, and you might be here for a while, depending on when the AAA gets here."

Frowning, Sebastian puts his hands in his pockets. The sun frames him from behind, making it seem like he's got a halo, and secretly, Chris thinks Sebastian is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Thank you," Sebastian says quietly.

And Chris could be wrong, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Sebastian might be feeling a little of what Chris is feeling, too.

"Don't mention it," Chris says, leaning against his bike, thankful for his sunglasses not just because of the sun, but also because they help hide the way he's feeling right now. Which is, frankly, far more devastated than he should be, over someone he just met yesterday.

"I could -" Sebastian starts, before he stops himself, biting his lip.

"Yeah?"

Sebastian takes a breath, looking at the ground. "Well, I was just thinking, I could maybe return it to you sometime. The coat, I mean. You're not that far from New York, really, and, y'know, I'm kinda sad I didn't get a chance to see your workshop, and like, the town." He looks up, giving Chris a careful look from under his lashes.

A warm feeling spreads through Chris's chest, more effective in driving away the cold and sadness than the sun could ever hope to be. He smiles at Sebastian. "Or I could drive up to New York sometime and collect it," he says, ignoring the fact that he just basically said he didn't need the coat back anyway. "Been meaning to visit again for a while anyway, I kinda miss the excitement. And like you said, it's not that far from here, if you think about it."

They smile helplessly at each other for a few moments, something passing between them that doesn't need to be articulated to be real.

"Let me give you my number," Sebastian says, seeming to glow with more than just the morning sunlight now, and if Chris saves the number in his phone with a little heart next to Sebastian's name, that's nobody's business but his.

[jmwdoesthings]

Snape's Retirement Headcanon:

In an alternate reality, in which Snape survives Nagini and is pardoned by the higher powers or whatnot, both Minerva McGonagall and he come to a decision: as soon as the aftermath of the war is over, they are going to retire.

And they do retire. Minerva manages to find two matching bungalows somewhere in a village and after a lot of snapping and arguing Snape agrees to move into the one meant for him. They visit one another every day, read to one another, go on walks dressed exactly as they normally would be in Hogwarts and become somewhat of a mysterious attraction for the locals.

The village children don't like Snape at first - he's always grumpy/scowling, hardly laughs, and he looks pretty ominous in his black clothes which he wears even during the summer. Minerva is slightly more welcoming: she invites the children for biscuits and tea and they after a week or two they all call her Granny Minnie and are fascinated by all the things she has in her house and how amazing the sweets she has are.

After Snape catches a cold or something irritable like that, and the children arrive at Minerva's for their usual visit and after they get scolded for having muddy knees and hands (which they wash), Minerva gets up using her walking cane, gestures with it and says:

"Come on, children, we're all going to pay Mr Snape a visit to see how he is!"

And Snape gets absolutely swamped by these loud and hyper village children (including little girls of six with frilly bows in their hair which fetch their plush toys and dolls and place them all on his bed and rowdy boys trying their best to be helpful whilst fetching things and knocking furniture over) who all offer him tea and show him their treasures and babble nonsense while he vaguely resembles the 'A Bug's Life' ladybird. He's obviously really irritated but cannot for the life of him bring himself to chase them away since they obviously mean well. During all of this, Minerva basks in the image and almost gets a stitch from laughing and... well. After some time, they end up adopting all these village kids, deemed a mad uncle and auntie, get invited by their parents for tea and get interested in the small village community state of affairs (though Snape obviously pretends he couldn't care less, which is a big fat lie).

Minerva often says things like:

"Wow, Franny has grown so tall and quite a proper young lady! We'll have to use a warding charm so that she doesn't get into trouble when the admirers start pouring."

"Don't worry, Dylan, you'll look as good in braces as you did without them, like I have told you before... What? Your teeth magically straightened overnight? Merlin's beard, what a surprise! [hides wand] I cannot imagine how that possibly could have happened."

And Snape:

"You say Antoinetta has a boyfriend, now? Tsh. I remember when she was six and could hardly tie her laces... a tidy, neat creature, that has to be admited. Though she had a gift for breaking all of my porcelain... What? He left her for another girl? She was in floods of tears? [drawing wand] Oh, no, no, don't be silly Minerva, I'm just going to repair the sink. It broke recently... [under his breath] And it won't be the only thing that's broken when I'm through with that wretch."

and:

"No, for the final time, Minerva, I don't give a damn whether Brandon wants a cat or an even an ostritch for his birthday. Honestly. [scoffs and adds 'cat for Brandon' to shopping list] Who do you take me for, a fairy godmother?"

And for them, life is good, and they do live happily ever after.

[azirafuck]

GOS2 Spoilers Masterpost (ONLY EP. 1-2)

alright, you read the title, you know what's under here - gonna tag everyone who helped this if I know them, thanks to everyone for their contribution and for being agents of chaos the way satan intended. love you all

[Last update/edit: 24/07 - 14:10CET]

first of all, we got some amazing posts from @incorrectquoteswwdits mostly about the first scene in heaven with crowley as an angel:

angel!crowley creating stars and aziraphale thinking he's calling him beautiful

more on that

aziraphale's lies make the lesbians have problems, apparently

communist aziraphale be like OUR CAR

isolation and doubts

THEN we have a detailed recount of the first episode by a kind anon! again, thank you @incorrectquoteswwdits for sharing <3

@goodomens-hints posted a lenghty and detailed recount of the first episode as well with some little hits at future episodes (nothing too big on the post itself, but BE CAREFUL, the blog is actually posting some other spoilers from episodes past the second one!)

@goodomensjail gave us a detailed recount of the first scene, with angel!crowley starting to question stuff and eventually shielding aziraphale with his wing

@mikubinders gives us SOME GOOD GOURMET SHIT by telling us that:

"Beelzebub kidnaps and threatens Crowley, tells him that ze could put a price on his head but ze doesn't want to. After that Crowley comes back to the bookshop and Good-old-fashioned lover boy plays while he drives there. "I'm back" happens. Aziraphale makes Crowley do a silly little apology dance so he forgives him and so they work together"

after thinking this last spoiler was fake, an anon came through and confirmed its real! we also have new context! (sent by an anon to yours tuly)

anon came through with some details about the Everyday record, told us Queen is actually tied to CROWLEY and not to the Bentley, and gave us more context to the OUR CAR and OUR BOOKSHOP bit (sent by an anon to yours tuly)

as for what happens during the Job flashback, after which the sitting five feet apart on a rock in front of the sea happens, a bunch of different versions of what actually happens are going around. @thesherrinfordfacility kept up with the madness surrounding it, so im gonna post here the last two versions of events/details.

first one:

In the Job section, Aziraphale is questioning gods decision of punishing Job. Then u see him in heaven w Muriel here and they are looking thru a long scroll that has instructions from god and he's trying to make sense of it. Muriel is telling him that god and satan made a bet about what Job would do and that's why they are testing him. And az is like whatttt why would god do that that's mean!

When Az finds out they're going to kill Jobs kids, he goes down to Earth to save them while using his angel voice until he realizes he's speaking to Crowley. He sees Crowley about to enter the kids room and tells Crowley "I know you, you wouldn't do this" and Crowley tells him he doesn't know him really. (

AND TY TENNANT IS SASSY AND FLIRTS W AZ??!??!? (*) And THATS when crowley goes "well he seems nice" from the clip. He wasn't jealous tho, like he thought it was funny since they are literally there to supposedly kill these kids and one of them is flirting lol.

The moment of 'weird-beard Crowley' was actually more focused on azi and him questioning God. Crowley tempts Azi w food and u see him struggle but then he gobbled it down and he cries bc he thinks crowley is going to bring him to hell (that's the scene where they are sitting on that thing with the pretty horizon) Crowley tells him "you're just an angel who follows gods as will as much as he can" and Az says that sounds lonely, and Crowley agrees, which is a callback to when he asked Crowley if he was lonely being on what Crowley calls "his own side", and Crowley said no. Crowley then tells him "i'm a demon. I lied"

(*): it was told this isn't actually canon canon, it's up for interpretation - some reported Ty's character is just the classic bratty teenager UPDATE: NOPE anon cleared it up and apparently it DOES read as flirty because ty's character is a little bitch, love that for us

and then we have the second one:

"Episode 2 is half present day things [...], and half the Job story/flashback. Crowley is the demon sent by Satan to torment "God's favorite human" Job to see if Job will curse God, in one big bet between God and Satan. Aziraphale comes to try to stop him, discovers they recognize each other but haven't seen each other since "the flood" and that Crowley seems to have changed since the flood, because he is willing to sacrifice the goats, and ruin Job's house. Crowley says he "has a permit" to torment Job FROM GOD. Aziraphale brings this up to the archangels that gleefully explain that yes it's a bet with Satan and that Job will suffer, but he will get everything back 3-fold by the end. And he will get NEW children. This disturbs Aziraphale, he does not want the CURRENT children to die, he understands the familial love that the archangels do not. He goes to stop Crowley not with power since he has the permit but to reason with him. Aziraphale says things to the effect "I KNOW you don't want to harm them I KNOW you and you don't want to kill children" and Crowley is defiant, but then…. It is revealed that he never killed any of the goats either, he transformed them into pigeons to hide them. And he is hiding the children away in the basement but destroying the house to make it look like they died. He transforms the three kids into lizards to hide them, then when the Archangels descend to give Job his rewards and tell him his wife will bear 7 new children, Job and his wife are in despair because they love their children. Crowley comes in pretending to be a human doctor and he and Aziraphale LIE to the angels faces about how babies are made and trick the angels into thinking Jobs three original children are NEWLY BORN children. Which fools Gabriel, who has only ever seen God make Eve fully grown from Adam's ribs. Crowley then meets Aziraphale at the rock. Aziraphale is crying and says "im ready for you to take me to hell" because he has LIED to angels and foiled God's plans. Crowley is gentle and comforts him that he is still an angel and "I won't tell anyone if you won't" and they reminisce that it's lonely being a different kind of demon and a different kind of angel that sort of do what they feel is right. Heavily implying that they are the same and have each other now. The end of episode 2.

that's what's going around for now, but ill add stuff if we find anything new - also feel free to add to this yourself or send me stuff!

[onmyyan]

Caspian NSFW ABC'S

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Three words, attentive, bubbly, and clingy, he needs that skin-to-skin contact immediately, no matter what, Cas checks in with you after he manages to get enough air in his lungs, gets you whatever you need faster than the request can leave your lips.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his eyes, the reason being one day you told him just how pretty you found them, Since then he can't help but see the beauty in himself, and his favorite of yours? Asking Caspian to choose a favorite body part is impossible, but, he'd always be a special kind of weak to your smile.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Need I remind you of the MASSIVE breeding kink this mf has?? Good because I will. He's happy to cum anywhere you'd let him but deep inside will always be his favorite.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has on several occasions cum into your food, it scratches this, hidden, primal need to have some part of him with you at all times, and he deep down liked that you were none the wiser.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Caspian has had a few relationships before and it's in his nature to please, he is a munch your honor, that is to say, while he hasn't been in a lot of relationships, he's always been a pleaser and learned to read his partners quite well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

So our boy loves to be as close to you as possible right? and there's something about having your soft thighs tightly locked around his waist in missionary, with those nails clawing into his back pressing him even further into you, yanking at his hair as if holding on for dear life, it makes his eyes roll back.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depends on your mood really, he follows your lead. If you're giggly and playful? He matches the energy, not in the mood for games? Bet. He can read you like he has a pamphlet

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Light grooming doesn't really care much, darker shade of his red hair, although he started growing out his happy trail when he saw how you reacted to it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very very romantic, mood lighting, and music if you're into it, Ol' house-husband over here makes it feels as meaningful and special as the first time, everytime. Worships every inch of your body, constantly praises you in the most meaningful ways.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You'd think with how often you two screwed he'd be satiated but nah he's a fiend who jerks off to your selfies while you're away and humps your pillow.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Huge size kink, Overstimulation, Feeder Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anyplace no one will see you, his blood pressure spikes at the mere idea of a mf seeing you come undone.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

BABES WHAT DOESN'T- but fr you doing something as mundane as reading a book or one of your hobbies he finds absolutely marvelous, one second he's admiring the way your skin looks in the light of the warm day, the next thing he knows he's kissing up your legs because he's so overwhelmed by his love for you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Can't degrade you, Nope. Sorry. He just can't be mean to his baby!!! It's not happening.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Certified MUNCH, If he had a beard it be red if you pick up what I'm putting down lmao. He'd rather go down on you but he's not gonna say no if you offer, just know he will get impatient and flip your positions eventually, too addicted to the taste to be patient.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to take his time with you no matter what, but in terms of pacing, by the time he finally sinks inside, his mind has turned off any other function than to please, meaning if you twitch a little more when he rolls his hips slower? He's doing it. If you go all starry-eyed when he fucks into you like a jackrabbit? Then he's shaking the headboard.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If the area is secure enough he'll do it, although he'll always prefer getting to take his time with you. His stamina is monstrous so he's ready to go when you are lmao

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's game to experiment if that's something you need but he is also a creature of habit.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Minimum of two rounds, max four, but they last hours, he wants to soak in every moment with you so if he can he's gonna take his time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't use toys himself, but he does get a evil lil kick outta using yours on you, making you squirm and buck against him, type to fuck you and use your vibrator on your clit at the same time, after all, if it made you squeak like that how could he not use the tools to his full advantage?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He's a little bit of a tease in the build up to sex, very touchy and lots of heavy stares, the way he looks at you is impossible to ignore and always manages to light that familiar fire in your tummy, during the actual act he's far too into giving you EXACTLY what you want and need to deny you even for a few teasing moments.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Very loud, lots of deep, choppy moans, he's whining out all his appreciations and praises, your name is all he can say sometimes, physically unable to do anything but fuck into you as deep as he could.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly has this fantasy of you getting his name tatted and the image of cumming all over that permanent mark has made him cum in his boxers before.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.5 and thick, and between you and me his tip is dummy sensitive

This mf YEARNS, he craves you, always, constantly, he'd be happy just existing in your space but you bless him by loving him, and all he wants to do is show you how much he appreciates all you do for him, this devotion comes out in many ways but the main is fuckin till the room stank 💀🤚🏼

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while, despite having just cum so hard he saw white for a moment, his heart pounds too hard to rest, he's giddy, buzzing in his place, arms wrapped around you like a second skin, he'll only fall asleep after he gets in a good hour of watching you sleep ofc.