#he's not uncomfortable he just looks uncomfortable at all times. it's whatever.

[rafeysbunny]

hyperbaric chamber sex with jj

two hours, twenty-seven minutes, forty-three seconds... forty-four... forty-five... that's the time jj and you have been locked up inside this thing. how did they call it again? oh yeah, a hyperbaric chamber —whatever the hell that is. not that you can complain about it, tho, it has saved you both from a painful ass death.

"this sucks," jj whines in the silence —it must be two or three in the morning, so the hospital it's pretty quiet.

he's laying on his back next to you, your bodies pressed together since the space is a little bit small for two people, though it is not entirely uncomfortable... you even have pillows, which is more than you were expecting —yay.

"it could be worse," you answer, big eyes fixed on the ceiling of the chamber as you listen to the weird sounds it makes. "we could be dead, for instance."

it's warm inside, so you aren't cold despite wearing just a tiny pair of shorts and a thin tank top, your bikini still slightly wet underneath the clothes. the pressure is quite intense, which makes your ears hurt a little, but you try your best not to focus on that, or you might just go crazy in here

jj grumbles a response, shifting his weight to get more comfortable. "you know what's the worst part?" you turn your head to the side to look at him questioningly, and you find him already staring at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips despite the situation you're both in. "we finally found some alone time, just the two of us, and we're stuck in a tin can. talk about romantic, huh?" he says, a certain amused tone in his voice.

you can't help but laugh softly at his words, loving how he always finds the way to lift the mood nonetheless. unconsciously, you shift closer to him, the roguish look in his handsome face drawing you in.

"yeah.... that definitely sucks," you mutter, nodding in agreement.

jj leans in to press a slow kiss to your lips, his hand reaching out to wrap around your waist and pull you closer. your bodies now flush against each other. your eyelids flutter shut instantly, a little gasp leaving your lips in response.

"we could... make the best out of it?" he suggests softly, his voice barely a whisper.

"well, we're not getting out any time soon, so... you murmur against his lips with a smile, small hands gripping the fabric of his worn-out t-shirt.

jj hums lowly in agreement, his fingers trailing up and down your side as he seals his mouth over yours again. this time, his tongue slips past your parted lips to tangle with yours as he shifts to hover over you, the heat of his body enveloping you in the tight space.

you return the kiss lazily while you spread your legs for him, wrapping them around his waist as soon as he places himself in between them. he groans softly against your mouth as he grinds his hips against yours slowly, his touch becoming more insistent as he drags his fingertips along the skin bare skin of your supple thighs; the friction makes you gasp.

"wait," you mumble into the kiss, gently breaking it, and he takes the opportunity to start pressing wet kisses to your neck instead.

you open your eyes as you fumble for his pillow next to you. once you grab it, you shove it against the window, blocking the view from outside. he pulls back slightly to peer at you with a mischievous glint in his eye as he registers what you've done.

"my clever girl," he murmurs approvingly.

he kisses you once more before making quick work of your shorts, swiftly yanking them down your plush thighs alongside your bikini bottom. you lift your hips to help him take them off, and as soon as he's pulled down the pieces of clothing, he tosses them aside. you open your legs for him, pussy now exposed in all its glory; the sight alone has him hard already.

"suck 'em f'me, princess," he commands softly, pushing his middle and ring finger inside your mouth to get them wet.

you comply eagerly, hollowing your cheeks around his digits and sucking until they're covered in your saliva. you can feel his free hand sneaking up your thigh, his thumb eventually latching onto your little clit to rub it in tight circles. the gentle rubbing, added to the high risk of getting caught, gets you wet in a second.

a thread of saliva stretches in between his fingers and your lips as he takes them out of your mouth, aiming for your cunt. you can't help but moan when he slips both of them inside, brows knitting together in a frown at the delicious stretch.

"shh, baby, gotta be quiet," he murmurs with a lopsided smirk, biting his bottom lip as he relishes in the way you squirm underneath him. "can you do that?" after you nod in response, he adds, "of course you can, such a good girl."

he keeps fingering you for a little bit, crooking his digits just right to hit that spongy spot at the front that makes your toes wiggle. he also scissors them as he moves them in and out, slowly opening you up for his cock —that's much bigger than his fingers, for sure. his thumb is still touching your swollen clit with just enough pressure to drive you wild.

soon, you're begging him. "jay, please," you whisper breathlessly, hips desperately bucking against his veiny hand. "need you... need your cock."

with a self-satisfied smile, he slowly withdraws his digits, leaving your pussy fluttering around thin air. you're soaking wet by now, hands eagerly helping him get rid of his annoying clothing so he can get inside you as quickly as possible.

when he finally thrusts into your sopping cunt, neither of you can hold back the moans, jj covering your mouth and hiding his face on the crook of your neck to muffle the sounds as he starts pounding hard into you.

"jesus christ," he grunts, his fingers pressing your mouth shut so harshly that the cool metal of his rings is biting into your sensitive skin. "princess, fuck... you feel so good."

his warm breath caresses your ear as he keeps whispering his filth in it, "you're fucking dripping... getting this wet for being fucked in public, what a slut, huh?" his teeth bite your earlobe, his tongue soothing the sting afterwards. "gonna fuck you in every damn place we go from now on if you like it this much."

your eyes roll back, his dirty talk just adding to the pleasure his thrusts provide. he'd not fail to fuck you dumb, his cock hitting all the right spots inside your cunt until you're cumming around it the hardest you've ever cum, pussy tightening and pulsing around his dick so good that he's right behind you, spilling inside you with the most gorgeous moan.

more.

taglist: @jesschalamet

[short-honey-badger]

Doll

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks meets an escaped slave from Marie Geois and swears to teach her how to live.

Notes* hey lovelies. As you can see from the oneshots, I'm finally back in action. I hope you enjoy the start of my new series that I'm planning to help me really get going. Expect some protective Shanks and some darker elements. Pretty fast pace just cause that how I enjoy writing him lol. I've really missed writing for him and sharing works with you wonderful people. Anyway, enjoy! ❤️

Doll Masterlist

There aren't many things that could surprise Shanks on the Grand Line anymore, but the woman that sat at the bar could definitely be considered a good one. He didn't recognize her, but he could tell that she was in a league above the other patrons that sat around the bar. She sat in the back corner, a bottle of booze sat on the table in front of her that she occasionally took a pull from. Shanks sat at the front and got the attention of the bartender.

“Who's she?” He asked and the man shrugged as he cleaned a dingy glass.

“Dunno. She blew in a couple of days ago. She pays, so I don't ask questions.”

Shanks huffed and ordered a drink for himself, “And whatever she's been drinking, too.”

Drinks in hand, Shanks stood from the bar and ambled over to the table where the woman sat. He plonked the bottle down and, head tilting to the side, “This seat taken?”

You looked up, blinking rapidly as if coming out of a daze and gave the redhead a smile once you focused on the ale he'd sat beside your empty one. “Is now.”

Shanks grinned and plonked down in the chair opposite you and leaned back and eyed you from under his bangs, “You from about here?”

The woman shakes her head, a mysterious little smirk painting her lips, “Nope. And I can tell that you aren’t either.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought before her eyes brighten like a bulb has gone off, “You’re Shanks, right?”

The emperor huffs and gestures to himself, “You caught me.”

He doesn’t expect the woman to go quiet, an almost contemplative look about her as she shifts in her chair. He can’t help but lean in, curious despite himself.

“Maybe you could help me out then?” You murmur and flick your eyes up to meet his own. Shanks is surprised to see the desperation lingering there, hidden behind the self-assurdness that you seem to wear like a second skin. What would a girl like you need help with?

“Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s going on. Don’t let my money go to waste though, doll,” he murmurs and gestures to the untouched ale that he’d brought over. You smile in thanks and take a sip, wetting your mouth as you get ready to spill. You can only hope that the emperor will accept.

With shaking hands you reach up and unbutton the top few notches of your shirt, just enough to expose your left shoulder where the brand still tugs uncomfortably at your skin. Even though you’ve had the brand for years now, you’ll never get used to the sickening way it pulls at your skin. The constant reminder that you were owned.

Shanks sucks in a sharp breath, the brand of a slave staring back at him in before he tears his eyes away and looks back at you, “How’d you escape?”

You grimace and button back up, eyes flinty, “My old master,” you hiss the word in disgust, “Sent me on an errand in Sabaody so I took my chance. That was about a month ago now. They’re stil looking for me.”

“Who got your off the archipelago?” Shanks asks and downs half his tankard of rum in one go. He’s met slaves before while visiting the string of islands, but with Silvers there, Shanks steered clear most of the time unless he happened to drift close. The though that even after all that Fisher Tiger had done, the Celestial Dragons still kidnapped and baught slaves. It disgusted the emperor to have seen that brand on a woman like you.

You shrug and bite your bottom lip. You busy your hands by playing with the ring of condensation that the bottle of ale has left behind, “Didn’t really catch their names. I stowed away the first ship I could find and I’ve been drifting ever since. I just… I can’t go back to that place Shanks. I don’t want them to find me.”

Shanks doesn’t know what makes him reach out, but he takes both your hands in his own, and wow, you were such a small thing weren’t you? He squeezes your palms and gives you a confident grin to hide the rage that threatens to erupt like an active volcano. He may have just met you, but there is a feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that he’d met someone special. Someone that could change his life, and he finds himself hardpressed to even think of letting you slip away from him.

“Don’t worry, doll. I won’t ever let that happen,” Shanks swears, and it’s then that a thought crosses his mind. A blush flushes his face and he peers at you, “Maybe you outta tell me your name, though. Or I could just keep calling you doll. Either works for me.”

Your laugh sends a shot of heat straight to his stomach, and your smile could light up the sky, “My name is _, but you can keep calling me Doll if you’d like.”

Shanks meets your grin with one of his own and then stands, carefully pulling you up with him, “Well, doll. How about you come meet my crew?”

Shanks stays close to you for the rest of the evening, introducing you to each one of his crewmates and pointing out what they do aboard the ship. You smile and make conversation, though some of it is stilted and awkward, like you aren’t sure how to talk to someone so casually. You loosen up after a couple more drinks, and find yourself leaning against your new captain, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you watch the crew’s antics.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you, Shanks. Do you think that you could teach me?”

Your voice is soft, breath featherlight against his skin, and Shanks thinks that he would do anything for you in that moment. Instead, he tips a bottle of rum up to his lips and takes a deep swig before he answers.

“Sure, sweetheart. What do you want to know?’

Your eyes burn with a sort of determination that the emperor doesn’t see often, and it makes anticipation well up in his chest as you lick your lips and look at him.

“Everything, Shanks. I want to know everything.”

He sets the bottle away so that he can give you his full attention. He can feel the air thicken, the winds and sea changing as he dips his head and reaches out to cup your face in his hand. He swipes his thumb along your jaw, then your chin, eyes never leaving your own.

“Then that’s what I’ll do, Doll. I’ll teach you how to live, yeah?”

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!��� 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[bandgie]

Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse. 

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young. 

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only. 

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

What if... Batsis with a oral fixation ⁉️

Not in a kinky way but like a stimming way, I have autism irl and I chew and bite on stuff to help get some feelings I'm not a fan of :P

Also I bite people I trust cuz Ik they won't mind or rlly judge me for it so what if batsis bites Grayson cuz she trusts him or somethin 🤯⁉️

A/N: So babes...i'm sorry this took a while. I was out of it for a while...I cannot stop biting my loved ones either...it's rough out here, really.

Characters: Dick, Tim, and Jason

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Dick wouldn't really mind it, I don't think?

Maybe at first he's like..."what ya got there..?" and it's just a whole chunk of his arm in your mouth.

He has a look of both concern and amusement on his face because well...this is a first.. But if he's aware of your usual oral stims and how you are constantly chewing or biting at something, I think he wouldn't question it further. It's easy to put two and two together, y'know.

But the fact that you only do it to him and maybe to the other siblings is enough for him to be okay with it. It makes Dick feel extremely special and dare I say honored to be a human chew toy. Dick adores anything that you do, especially if that thing is specifically because you trust him.

I think it'd be super cute having you hold onto his arm while ya'll are chilling on the couch. Maybe watching a scary movie, and because you're getting stressed so the entire time you are just gnawing on his bicep...poor guy. Lol but he actually doesn't even notice it after a while of you constantly doing it.

Like he's chatting with Babs and here comes your evil little teeth all ready to sink into his skin.

The only time I think he's be against it if he's super sweaty and gross or is trying to concentrate on something important....otherwise,,go ham.

But would I be crazy if I say his hair when it's long is perfectly chew-able.... like pleassseeeeee rachellll give it to meeee

I can imagine him giving you some of his bracelets to chew on. I imagine he wears these string bracelets and they are perfect chewing material.

*you have almost bit his entire finger off...*

Jason would be a bit turned off from it.

He's not particularly keen on you biting him. It doesn't feel good, it maybe even a bit irritating or stressful for him. This is not to say he thinks that your fixation needs to go but he'd rather you do it to anyone else instead.

Maybe he'll give you one of his old jackets for you to chew on. it's perfect, he got it cleaned and it has tons of tabs and buckles for you to chew. That way you can still have something of his to fixate on without necessarily bothering him. It does kind of warms his heart when you choose his items to stim with tho. It's assuring that he's still able to help ground you even if it's in a different way....

Tim..does not care. Like the most he does is just give you a strange look, then goes back to whatever he was doing prior.

You aren't hurting him, nor is he irritated so who is he to force you to stop. It's clear that you are overwhelmed and needs something that'll help you make it through soo have fun, sis.

He never directly addresses it either. It's just a thing that he accepts.

Maybe if you are chewing on the him of his shirt and your saliva is causing it to get rather wet and slightly uncomfortable, he'll just go change the shirt and give it to continue doing your stimming with.

I feel like Tim just had random chew-able trinkets around his room too, maybe even keeps tough gummies or lollipops around as an alternative for you.

[amusingmusie]

Hi, I really hope you're faring well. Just wanted to say that I love your writing and yours truly, and I thought about something.

In hell, Alastor is a lot more durable and unkillable, so I imagine that's a lot more of a headache for Nel. She's walking behind him, ready to bash his skull and all of a sudden his head does a 180 and she's like >:0.

Also demon Al's hygiene must be HORRIBLE. So she's probably going to have to chase him around the hotel with a toothbrush and soap to no evail because he's a slippery motherfucker now that he's a demon.

Thank you so much for writing this masterpiece, and have a wonderful day <3

Fresh As Hell

Content warning for the Hazbin cast being themselves.

You're running out of ideas.

This has gone on far too long. The smell of an old shoe here, a hint of halitosis there, even a whiff of swamp water wafting your way if you get too close: it's all evidence that you can't ignore any longer.

Alastor kind of fucking stinks.

Sure, you've told him since your human days that his swampass stench is overwhelming, but that was a dig to piss him off, not the actual truth (usually, as long as his mother pressured him to scrub his tail). Nowadays? Well, if the demonic stop sign admitted that he bathes in his bedroom's wetlands, you'd be less than shocked. Shit, you'd actually be relieved if that were the case, because then you could fill the bog with soap and perfume to mask whatever funk perpetually lives on Alastor's grey skin. It's never overwhelming enough to knock you out; it's maddening subtle, the musk of his hair and the bite to his breath.

Maybe you could survive the Great Stink of '24 if he didn't insist on being on top of you at all times. Every time you turn around, you're assaulted by crimson, static, and Alastor's personal brand of miasma that wafts off of him since he insists on being no less than three atoms away from you.

Sure, it's possible you've got beef with his aroma since back in the day, the shitter smelled like freshly cut wood with notes of amber and his teeth sparkled like diamonds. You've seen his hygiene at its peak, which is why you cannot cosign this rank tomfoolery. Unfortunately, all of your attempts to rally the idiots at this hotel to agree with you that this is an issue have ended in disaster, leaving you without any allies in this fight.

"I haven't really noticed much, and hey, here at the Happy Hotel, we're receptive to more, um, eccentric lifestyles! As long as Alastor is being a team player and helping out with our mission, there's no reason to make him uncomfortable by bringing up his personal choices!"

"I don't get close enough to that pendejo to catch a whiff of whatever you're talking about."

"I dunno, tootz, I like a man with a little musk to 'em."

"Fuck off and fuck you."

"I like man stink~"

You're very much on your own here. The war on Alastor's subpar hygiene will be fought by you and you alone, and you won't be deterred- you've had worse battles before.

When you're once again yanked into Alastor's side and exposed to a faceful of his armpit in the lobby for the upteenth time, you vow to take action against him, more for your sake than his.

Game on.

---

Your strategy calls for small, stealthy actions in the beginning.

Positioning yourself in plain sight at the hotel bar with two cups of coffee, you wait for your target to appear. It's the perfect scene: you, alone (save for the bar cat, but he's passed out with his head down on the counter), with coffee. Alastor can't resist this. Hardly more than three seconds pass before a rush of static and a chill wash over you. A gentle pop sounds off to your left, and then you're greeted by your least favorite radio host smelling stale as ever.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" he cries, purposely shouting too loudly into your ear. "You're looking especially horrid this morning. Did you happen to catch a glance of your reflection in the mirror before it cracked?"

"No, I was too busy imagining all the ways I could skin you alive before eleven."

"Well, it is eight already, so hop to it, you need all the time that you can get to brainstorm!"

As his invisible audience laughs alongside him, you flick a handful of mints into his unguarded coffee cup. The jackass is too busy chortling at his tired jokes to realize that you've done anything at all. Perfect. Holding back your smirk is a damn hard move when Alastor finally lifts his red mug to his full lips and swallows down a mouthful of minty coffee.

Success.

Until-

"Hm..." Alastor hums, blinking his red eyes plainly. Then he promptly turns, spits out a stream of dark liquid onto Husk's bowed head, and snatches up your cup of coffee. After sipping down your drink, he sighs contently. "There, much better! Ah, that was a juvenile play, dear. You're losing your touch."

The deer motherfucker teleports away while you're left with a pissed off cat and determination to win this war.

---

Next comes the idea to douse Alastor in whatever perfume oils you can find as a direct plan of attack. Instead of using your precious concoction that you paid out the ass for from Rosie's Emporium, you decide that these other assholes living around here could stand to help out for five seconds. You're not asking for their support- just their cologne.

Angel is the unlucky winner that you approach since whatever he wears is pungent enough that it has your eyes watering on a good day. The spider leans up against his doorway, legs in your face and fluff looming above your head as you make your case.

"Listen." You crane your head back and fix him with what you hope is an amicable stare. "I'll shoot straight with you. I need a favor."

"Oh?" he asks, raising a perfect brow and examining his gloved fingers. "I don't do girls, sorry not sorry."

"No," you grumble at him. "Not that kind of favor. I need to borrow your perfume- whatever shit you wear is strong enough to be smelled across the Pentagram. All I need is to borrow the bottle for five minutes and I'll have it back to you good as new."

"HA! You think I'm letting you make off with my smell-good for free? No no no, nobody gets to borrow what I wear, not even Cherri. It's custom! You're out of luck."

"You're here at the hotel to redeem yourself- part of redemption is being selfless."

"Actually, I'm at this shitshack so I don't have to pay rent, and redemption don't mean you get a spritz of my good shit. Go ask some other shmuck." Angel laughs in your face one final time, then spins around to shut his door.

"I'll owe you," you spit out. That has the fluffy demon pausing and you fear that you've either royally fucked up or royally succeeded.

"...Owe me what?"

"One favor equal to borrowing your perfume that doesn't involve me getting my ass kicked or double dead."

Angel grins delightedly, retreats into his den, then sticks one spindly arm out with his perfume sitting pretty in his palm.

"Have at it!"

And you do, with fear of Hell's #1 pornstar in your heart.

Alastor comes in to kick your legs under the table during dinner and you immediately whip out Angel's perfume to soak the son of a bastard down. There's an ear-ringing screech before Alastor pops away, leaving you with a table full of coughing, gassed-out hotel inhabitants that are very, very pissed off.

Once Vaggie is done chewing you out, Angel Dust leans over and whispers, "You still owe me for my draining my fucking reserves, dollface."

Fuck.

---

After weeks of attempted baths, desperate tooth-brushing sessions, dirty bribery, and numerous double-death threats, you've decided that you have no choice but to go completely nuclear. Clearly, your rotten plague of a deer demon is determined to resist all attempts to freshen him the fuck up, so you are prepared to pull the dirtiest trick in your book. Forget screaming or cussing; you'll have his ass eating out of the palm of your hand in no time with this.

"Hello, my rotten peach!"

Ahah, it's time- you're about to win this little game no problem. You take one look at Alastor in all his awful glory here in the parlor, steady your face into an uninterested expression, and then you. look. away.

Alastor stares.

"I said, hello, my rotten peach! My fetid fruit! My most crusty crop!" he announces slightly louder as if you didn't hear him.

Nothing. No reaction. You refuse to engage with someone that smells of fragrant toes and has gums darker than his coffee; you'll have him suffering from your silence if those are the dumbass choices he'd like to make.

Just barely concealing his panic at the sudden lack of your attention, Alastor clomps closer, then pokes at your side with his staff. The thing winces from the contact. You, on the other hand, are not weak and will not relent, so you continue to watch the parlor wall with great interest.

All according to plan.

Charlie passes by, humming a happy tune. When she spots you lounging on the couch with Alastor hovering over you, she smiles at the familiar sight, and offers a happy, "Good morning!"

"Morning, Princess," you greet her. Then you return to wall watching.

Alastor wilts.

You smile.

And you play the winning game.

For days, you refuse to acknowledge anything having to do with your favorite least favorite parasite. If he materializes in front of you when you're reading a novel? You don't even flinch. If you awake to him standing over your bed and staring with glowing eyes? Well, there's no need to do anything but roll over, that's just Tuesday. You hardly bat an eye when a black shadow warbles over your shoulder as you brush your teeth; no, you simply show it the brush and toothpaste for a proper tutorial on how to avoid ripe ass breath. You're enjoying the power you hold over Alastor, and you especially enjoy the way his stupid tufts flatten against his head when you deny him any attention for a whole week.

You believe that victory is yours.

---

As you trudge downstairs for another miserable day at the Asscrack Motel or whatever they're calling this place nowadays, you're overwhelmed by a new scent permeating throughout the lobby- freshly cut cedar, something slightly floral and musky, hints of amber, and immaculately washed manass.

Shit.

You know that smell. You know that smell very well. It can only mean one thing.

Then you spot him in all of his glory; Alastor is leaning his spindly body against the hotel bar with a freshly patched suit, styled hair slicked back across his head, and shining teeth. Oh God, he smells and looks like Heaven, and suddenly you decide that maybe you don't give two shits about that white speck in the sky when you've got this presented to you on a metaphorical platter.

With a little grunt, you move closer, appraising Alastor with an indifferent expression. His static is whirring sweetly in the background while he simpers down at you- yeah, he's proud and peacocking a bit, you can tell from the manner in which his lips curl and the way his chest puffs out. Goddammit...he knows that he's got you hooked like a fucking sucker.

"Yeeeeees?" he sings when you stare for a second too long. "Something on your dreadfully empty mind?"

"..." Hm. You could shoot him for being annoying, but he did do all of this dolling up for you.

Ugh. You hate him so much.

So you yank him down by his lapel so you can kiss him square on the mouth. For the first time in a long time, he tastes of mint and sunshine instead of rot and coffee, utterly intoxicating you in the worst of ways. You drag your lips against his and feel that they've been moisturized, and when he bites down on your tongue, there's no slippery plaque to offend your senses.

All of this effort just to get you to look his way.

Good.

Then you release him with a pop, flip him the bird, and walk off with your head held high.

Alastor just hums in satisfaction from his place at the bar, idly commenting, "I've still got it," to a very disgusted Husk and Vaggie who are doing their damndest to ignore the scene.

You'll call this one even.

(Loosely based on a very old conversation with @gemrocknerd).

[vampireistic]

failed replaced!MC AU

ཐི synopsis: diavolo has sent down a brand new human exchange student! one that, unfortunately, seems to be very keen on stealing all the limelight for themselves…with such pathetic results it’s almost endearing.

ཐི feat. demon bros

ཐི warnings: mentions of blood/injury, second person, will proofread after my appointment i swear 😔

ཐི a/n: yanked this idea from @squeakyducky ! ٩( ᐛ )و named the human exchange student “notus” after the greek god of the south wind because in the comic the MC is called “zephyr” after the god of the west wind (not directly in opposition of one another in mythology but i through it would be fitting). + also this is kinda long…(;_;)

You weren’t upset about having a new human exchange student, no-one really was, but just the gut feeling that Diavolo was going to throw you in as their guide was really starting to irk you (having to deal with several argumentative debate-lords thirsty for your attention doesn’t give you much energy to deal with newbies).

Who knew though? Maybe this was exactly what you needed; a break from all the fantasy in the world for a touch of realism. A touch of home.

However, soon as that portal twinkled to reveal a rather attractive human figure bursting with confidence, your latent arcane abilities smelled trouble. But then again, you were rarely right about first glance opinions on people, maybe this was just another instance?

Ok, well, when you tried going up to introduce yourself you were met with a glare so maybe you weren’t so wrong after all. Benefit of the doubt, you repeat to yourself. You remember being particularly snappy to people within your first arrival - it’s natural instinct! I mean the brother’s also threatened to eat you on the first day here, perhaps they’re just naturally standoffish.

“This is Notus, our newest human exchange student! Please be sure to give them a warm welcome.” Diavolo’s voice boomed across the council hall, eyes gleaming with excitement. Like the first time, the brothers introduce themselves one by one, each a little more on edge than the last - maybe they felt that weird energy too?

Whatever, you pushed those thoughts aside for the time being and took on the role as the newest babysitter for a human that seemed to have a much unnecessary distance while walking next to you.

It started off fine:

Occasional misplacement of your items; an untied shoelace that makes you trip (with Mammon getting a heart attack as he pulls you up by your wrist); messing up an elixir you were sure that you measured correctly; and opening your bag to find your homework gone.

Childish antics that you tried your best to push blame onto either your own forgetfulness or a misplaced prank that was meant to mess with Lucifer. But somehow, it got so much worse - and that little demonic human decided to finally take fault of their pranks by flaunting it off with pride.

“Oh, MC?” Notus caught your attention with a double tap on your shoulder. “Did you enjoy the nature reserve?” Mammon tilted his head to the side, confusion scrunching his face as he looked over at you.

“It was really lame, Thirteen would’ve done better.” Of course you were not referring to an actual excursion, no, you mean the wild animals that had magically found themselves a snuggly home in your bed as well as the plethora of Devildom-specific deadly mushrooms and herbs that replaced your old plant pots.

“Hah? What are you two yappin’ about?” Mammon huffed, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t part of this big secret that you two seemed to share. Notus smugly cuddled up to him, arms wrapping around his bicep a little too tight. “Oh it’s nothing! Just a little…gift, I got MC as a thank you for being such a great guide!”

“Oi! How come I never got anythin’ from ya when I had to babysit?” His brows furrow as he clearly attempts to, rather nicely, shrug off the unwanted attention. This is the first time you’ve seen Mammon look so visibly uncomfortable - clearly oblivious to such a fact, Notus continued snuggling themselves closer, trailing their fingers up and down Mammon’s arm.

Of course, you ended up telling all of this Lucifer, to which he implemented a special spell on your lock so no sneaky human that’s barely acquainted with magic could unlock, with the reassurance that if these “pranks” and unwanted behaviours escalate, it would be taken to Lord Diavolo directly.

Mammon was an obvious first victim for this weird power trip of a game - he’s as kind as a lamb and just the teeniest bit dumb (lovingly so, you reassure him) - but somehow the antics got more assertive and the targets much more hazardous. Satan. Honestly at this point, all you could feel was pity as you sat in the living room, nose buried in a book that Solomon had instructed you to study.

Notus had lived alongside you for a little over two weeks now, and while those small pranks continued, this is the first time you’ve seen them take on an “opponent” that would be way too much to chew. Sliding onto the couch with a careless saunter, Notus cozied themselves up into a cushion right near Satan’s arm, their breath basically ghosting over his neck. His face twitched.

“What?” Satan scowled, a face you haven’t seen in a while crunching his usually stoic expression to a frown.

“Sataan, can you please help me study? I’m struggling in Seductive Speechcraft and need a bit of…” their hand awkwardly inches closer to his hair, “guidance.”

“Go find a book or ask your lecturer.” He aids somewhat clamly, before that mask slips off momentarily to threaten them: “Don’t bother me, you’ll regret it.”

Well, that ended quicker than you expected. Guess even the ever so bold exchange student cowers at the icy glare from the Avatar of Wrath? You can’t help but giggle from where you sat, to which Notus immediately looks up for, facing twisted in an ugly scowl.

After the failure that didn’t even really begin that was the day before, Notus went for someone much more gullible and easy to please. The favourite orange-haired glutton. Offering him a massive, drool-worthy sponge cake from the human world that they swear, “MC asked me to deliver!” He wasted no time in scarfing down the citric frosting soon as that familiar melodic sound of your name hit his ears.

Beelzebub isn’t known to be someone who’s reluctant to not eat things - unless it’s Mammon’s or Solomon’s sacrilegious cooking - but in this case he wished he could control himself when it came to things that look and smelt promising. Because soon as that icing coated his tongue, his belly grumbled with a heinous rage. Not one born from hunger, no, but rather nausea. Thankfully, Beel’s a big dude who can handle pretty much anything, so it’s not like whatever poison or foul-tasting potion that was slipped between the buttercream did him any damage (apart from ruining his mood), but nonetheless, he felt horrible and got a lengthy scolding from Belphie to boot.

He doesn’t blame you, you might’ve just messed up somewhere and that’s ok! Beel sets the rest of the cake aside with a little warning label that it made him feel ill and if it did him, it could probably kill anyone else, before scurrying off to find an actual bite to eat. Guilt did gnaw at him for a while because, normally, he’s easily able to eat anything you make since you make it with so much love! But Beel can also recognise foul play when he sees it and also comfortably assess that the icing used wasn’t mixed in the way you do it.

These little instances stopped for a while, which made you foolishly believe that perhaps they learnt their lesson and decided to turn in for the better. Notus manages to surprise you once again - instead of targeting the brothers, the attention comes back to you. The original plan was; conjure up a curse on your pillow that forces you to have perpetual nightmares, which henceforth makes you irritable and hopefully slip up in front of the brothers, preferably make you so grouchy that you say something irredeemable.

What factor Notus failed to account for is the fact the brothers also LOVE your room, and a person who specifically loves stealing shit from you is Belphegor, who so unfortunately kidnapped that one pillow ridden with a curse while stumbling into your room with a drowsy head.

The House of Lamentation isn’t known for being quiet, so the bickering downstairs over breakfast overwhelmed the space per usual, but soon as those thumps of heavy footsteps echoed down the flight of stairs connected to the twin’s room - the house went eerily silent. An overly irritated Belphie ghosts into the room with darker eyebags than normal, his face hauntingly pale with a vein popping from his forehead, body limply dragging itself.

Notus felt the hairs on the back of their neck stand up as Belphie saunters behind them, looming over like an owl would a mouse before growling: “Do you always ruin the things you touch, or is this a hobby?” Belphie may be the youngest and therefore the weakest, but when it comes to anything dream and curse related, he will know exactly who’s behind it. And if you hadn’t taught him the slightest bit of mercy, he was sure Notus’ skin would serve Asmodeus as a nice handbag.

Speaking of the jewel Asmodeus, Notus’ technique was much more…social sabotage based. Spreading a vile rumor around RAD that you made a disparaging comment about Asmodeus’ character was a sure fire way to get some sort of hate train going. Rumours spread fast around RAD, especially when concerning one of the Devildom’s most infamous partygoers, after all - and the drama was sure to escalate when the oddly beloved MC was involved. Notus devilishly giggled to themselves, before knocking on Asmodeus’ room, hands clasped together in faux prayer.

The door swings open to reveal Asmo adorned with silver jewellery that coiled together like moonlight kissed webs, earrings curling into shiny heart shaped crystals that he seemed to still be putting in. With a raise of a brow he smiled politely: “Yes, hon?”

“I saw the awful things MC said about you! I’m so sorry…you must be going through so much pain,” Notus sniffles, that drama class they took back in Year 9 really paying off for once. “If it’s any consolation I think you’re amazing…I mean even all your jewellery know looks like it was practically designed with your image in mind, it’s so glorious!”

Guess they took Satan’s advice after all.

Asmo is kind. Somewhat - ish…But not when it comes to people that use cheap tricks against his beloveds. Sure, the flattery was great, but appreciation is always better when it’s genuine and sincere, specifically your praise was something his vain heart sought afer. “Aw dear,” Asmodeus cooed, hands cupping Notus’ face gently, an act that makes them smile a little unnervingly. “If you knew me at all you’d know I designed these, quite recently in fact.”

Shit.

Notus felt their face heat up in embarrassment, hands suddenly clammy with sweat. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t feel so great to be caught in a scorpion’s tail. “Sweetie,” he laughs, patting Notus’s shoulder with mock sympathy. “You could never turn me against MC. They’re real, and you’re just…trying too hard, aren’t you?”

The grip on Notus’ face suddenly tightens, that orange hue in Asmodeus’ eyes tinting a more saturated shade. “Feel free to say whatever you wish about me, but utter another word about my MC, and I’ll drain your marrow and leave your bones bare of sinews.”

A not so nice reminder that bloodlust is still a form of lust.

That backfired spectacularly. Instead of MC getting bombarded with hate and being shred apart in any thing they posted, it was the newest exchange student that was the prime highlight of what desperation and pathetic self-esteem. Comments ranged from anything like:

“Lord…this is just embarrassing for them lol”

“thanks for the tutorial on social suicide <3”

“an attempt was made…but it should’ve been with a rope.”

Much to you and the brother’s greatest dismay, the forum that was freely spouting random comments about the situation was gradually shut down under Diavolo’s leadership. He did find it the teeniest bit funny though…

In naming pathetic self-esteem, a particular water dweller comes to mind: Leviathan. He was going to be a tricky one to lure (said in a hopeful manner as if the others weren’t total failures). Not particularly because he’s the third oldest, making his raw power single-handedly capable of wiping Notus away from existence. No, it was the depressing fact that he’s a recluse that seethes to himself whenever you giggle at a joke someone other than him has made.

Although, they did manage to misuse his social awkwardness to their advantage - by acting shy and nervous as they sweetly ask if they can also join the gaming session with him and MC. Levi chose a multiplayer dungeon crawler, the kind where cooperation is key — and where you certainly have excelled before. Notus, however, had other plans.

Small, inconsequential mistakes didn’t bother Levi too much…you and him were good enough for the time being, but by level, these “mistakes” of theirs just spiralled uncontrollably. up important loot meant for MC, and even used rare healing potions on themselves at the wrong time, leaving your character on the brink of death.

“Oh no!” Notus gasped, hand to their mouth. “I didn’t mean to—uh, sorry, Levi! I guess I’m just not used to such a complicated game.” They glanced slyly at you, a smug grin creeping onto their face.

Levi frowned, his tail twitching with irritation. “It’s not that complicated,” he muttered. “You just...have to listen.” You don’t even remember when he switched into his demon form, but you can somewhat presume it was around the second the first whine gasped from their lips.

Despite their blunders, Notus managed to turn the situation into a chance for attention, constantly praising Levi in exaggerated tones. “Wow, Levi, you’re so good at this game! I mean, you basically carried us, right?” They laughed, shooting another smug glance your way. “MC must feel so lucky to have someone like you showing them the ropes.”


Levi blinked, looking between Notus and you. His face flushed, but not in the usual embarrassed way—it was frustration. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped. “MC doesn’t need me to ‘carry’ them. They’re actually good at this!”

Notus tried to backtrack, laughing nervously. “Oh, sure, sure! I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“Just stop.” Levi's voice was uncharacteristically firm. His eyes darted to you, softening. “MC doesn’t need someone like you pointing out their skills. They’ve already proven themselves. Unlike, uh, certain people who don’t even know how to play.”

The match ended shortly after, with Levi muttering about how “toxic noobs ruin games.” He didn’t invite Notus back for another session.

Lucifer’s patience had worn thinner than a threadbare string. The complaints from his brothers about Notus's antics had escalated from minor annoyances to full-blown disruptions of their routines. Asmodeus couldn’t walk down the hallway without Notus latching on to him, Leviathan’s game nights had been interrupted by bizarre "accidental" server crashes, and even Belphegor muttered in frustration about charms slipping into his blankets to make him "dream of Notus."

Through it all, you have endured the worst of it — every petty prank, sabotage attempt, and unwelcome spell aimed at undermining your place in the Devildom. You’ve handled it with your usual grace, brushing off bruised egos and minor inconveniences with an easy smile. But this time, Notus had gone too far.

Self efficacy is quite the funny theory - the more you believe in yourself, the more likely you are to succeed. The more successes you have, the better your confidence. So how come even without that, Notus seemed to be as determined as ever to ruin your mood?

The prank seemed harmless at first—a minor tripwire spell meant to tangle your legs and leave you stumbling in embarrassment. But Notus, in their reckless desperation to make you look bad, underestimated the strength of the curse. When the trap activated, you didn’t just trip - you were violently flung forward, crashing into a jagged edge of a chair (there’s too many of them in the House of Lamentation as you just got to personally establish).

The sound of breaking wood reverberated through the House. You hit the floor hard, crimson spilling from a deep gash on your arm where wood had pierced skin. Placing your fingertips on the gush of blood pooling around the scratches, your hands webbed with red iron.

Lucifer arrived almost immediately, his presence a storm brewing in the hall. His brothers, frozen in stunned silence, stood back as he knelt to examine you. His gloved hands trembled faintly as he carefully removed the shards and inspected the various wounds that differentiated in size and depth.

Notus tried to deflect, stammering about how it was just a joke gone wrong, their confidence cracking under Lucifer’s piercing glare. “I-I didn’t mean for it to—MC is just so dramatic, they—”

“Silence.”

Lucifer’s single word was sharper than a blade, and the room fell into an oppressive silence. His wings, usually tucked away, unfurled slightly — a stark warning of the fury he struggled to contain. He rose to his full height, towering over Notus, his face a mask of cold fury.

“You’ve been a disruption from the moment you arrived, but this? This is beyond forgiveness.”

Notus didn’t learn their lesson, of course. Their jealousy burned too brightly to let them stop. But this time, you’ve sincerely had had enough, and with Thirteen’s help, you concocted a poetic dose of karmic justice mingled with a touch of the classics.

Diavolo was long informed of the incident involving you previously and further filled in on all the previous attempts of ruining both your reputation and relationship with your family. A little meeting in the RAD council room was in due order - one which all of the affected were invited for a silly show.

Lucifer stood impatiently next to a stone-faced Diavolo. You would find it slightly threatening if you didn’t know what was going to happen in just a few moments. Thirteen sat next to you, swinging back and forth on a chair as she grinned at you with every wavering gaze at one another.

And like moth to a flame, a blazing with both frustration and smugness Notus strolled on in. Well, I say stroll - I mean struggle with opening the door before they accidentally put too much pressure on the handle, leading to the doors gushing open with a far swing, and the buckets utop the bar to drop down like catharsis.

A greedy sorcerer from sorcerer’s society that just so happened to notice you when you came in one day with a few of the brother’s and Solomon the Wise himself - Notus couldn’t bare the idea that a little thing like you could swoop in and charm them so easily.

Now covered in a disgusting, webbed display of pig’s blood and some sticky consistency of water mixed with honey, Notus simply stands there, allowing defeat to settle in while the crescendo of giggles cuts deep into their pride.

“Alright alright, I’ve got enough of a laugh out of this,” you clap your hands, whispering an incantation that forces a gush of water to rain down upon them, washing away the weird concoction that coated their skin.

“Aw what, that’s no fun lol.” Leviathan pouts in the background.

“Whaaat!! What a bore…” Mammon grumbled to himself, looking away from the sopping wet dog once his eyes accidentally caught theirs.

“MC…” Notus sniffled pitifully, looking up at you through tear-stained lashes.

“Yes yes, I know,” you sigh, hands on your hips as you try your best to articulate your reasoning for this baseless morality. “This isn’t forgiveness or anything, the stuff you’ve done warrants actual apologies but hey, I’ve had a few of the demons in here attempt to kill me before,” Belphegor coincidentally looks away, “a few jabs at my reputation with failing results was honestly a little funny.”

Notus’ eyes glimmer with shiny stars and fat blobs of tears as they murmured a very simple:

“Fmnf…I love you.”

“…”

“Huh?”

[siri-ike]

Empty. That's all he could feel for such a long time. Just a never-ending empty hollowness. It's not even a bad feeling, so to say. Not good, either. It's nothing. A little damp maybe, a sinking dampness.

Sometimes, he would float past things, sometimes through them, not really paying much attention. Sometimes, he would recognize someone, but every time, it got harder and harder to remember who, or from what. Were they family? Famous? Nothing. Eventually, he stopped trying. What's the point? He doesn't know them. Besides, he's probably halfway around the world by now. Or he could just be in the same place. Did he even start anywhere?

Maybe he had been doing this forever. Maybe he will be doing this forever. This is all there was, is, or ever will be. That's OK. At least it's consistent.

Or, at least

It was.

It felt like a jolt of electricity shot through his entire body at once. Body? He has one of those? So much noise, so many different sounds all competing for his attention. Lights from seemingly everywhere but the sky. No, wait, there are giant lights in the sky. Or being pointed at the sky? What kind of place is this?

He turns to face the city below him. The lights are even worse this way. He's so far above even the tallest skyscrapers, and the... are those blimps? All over a city? What is this world War 2? Confused, curious, uncomfortable. He hasn't felt anything like this, or really anything in general, for so long. If only he could get closer. And with that, a weight appeared inside him. His trajectory pointed ever so slightly downward. Excitement. At this rate, he could reach the buildings someday. No! He's been patient. He wants to go faster. As though motivated by his own will, his fall sped up. Can this be real? Forget the buildings. He could reach the ground before sunrise. As he floats closer, one of the zeppelins gets close enough to read. Police. Could this actually be World War 2? The architecture seems to fit. Even if it was, he'd take it. But he still doesn't want to wait. Now, he wants to be there now. It's as though he's being pulled down in a flash. He's below the blimps, just as quickly he's surrounded by reflections as half the buildings are covered in glass. The noise is no longer just construction and cars honking. He's close enough to hear voices yelling at each other and the lights, oh they are sickening. The ground gets closer and closer, with every fraction of a second he sees and hears something new. For a few wonderful seconds, he feels so alive. And then everything is black.

no. no,no,no. No! stop! please! pulling out from that speed sends him spinning out of control for just a moment. But a moment is enough. So far underground that he can't even tell which way is up. And a new feeling. what could this one be? Disappointment. If only he had been patient. What's a few days of falling to a, a... whatever he is... he shouldn't have wanted. He was asking too much, that must be it. Should have just been content with what he had. At least before he didn't hurt.

Hoping was a mistake. Just look where it got him.

How long has it been? Days? Hours? He'd thought before he had nothing but now. The lights aren't just dull. The sounds aren't just muffled. They are non-existent. He is non-existent.

And once more, he has accepted it. Every now and then, a faint pull here and there. Like something wants his attention, but he knows better now. It's not worth it. Better to just float. In the dark. Forever. He was a fool for believing there could be more.

It didn't take long for his circumstances to beat him down again. But it didn't take as long for them to change again either. As suddenly as before. A similar, but fainter jolt surged through him. He's had enough time now to understand what it is. Despair. Someone out there is experiencing despair the way he is. It's hardly the first time. All those other pulls and tugs. He knew what it was, but this one was different. This time, it's closer to his own suffering. And it's enough. "I want to get closer," he thinks. The pull gets stronger. Little by little, he's dragged through the darkness. He won't risk it this time. He lets it take forever. By the time he finally reaches the surface, the despair is long gone. The sunlight is blinding yet so thoroughly welcomed. If anything, the blinding sunlight was better than the crime scene he'd floated in on. Looks like murder. Two outlines on the ground. A man and a woman. Pearls scattered everywhere, too. could all that emotion have come from them? If it did, they certainly don't need help anymore. Ok, concentrate. "My feet can touch the ground," he thinks as he places his feet down, but they go straight through.

"I am tangible," he says outloud. But it still rains false.

"I can walk!" He shouts, catching the ear of a nearby cop.

"You hear something?" The officer says to another.

"Heh, first murder got ya spooked?" The other replies.

"Oh, I guess it could have just been the wind"

They perceived him? Or was that just a coincidence? The two officers pick up the last of their police tape and put it in their car. Hold on, the crime happened too recently to be cleaning it up. There's still wet blood on the ground. Their uniforms have the letters GCPD written on the back. PD always stands for police department. Why does he know that? This feels so vaguely familiar. Has he... met one before? No, that can't be. He's never met anyone. He's incorporeal, unknowable, beyond being. He has no history or future. Right? But why is he so drawn to follow them into their car? Forget walking. He can figure that out later.

Sitting in the back of a police vehicle also feels vaguely familiar. Or rather floating.

"Heh, guess I've never really been on the GZPD's good side."

"There it was again"

"You're just worked up, it's normal to struggle with mortality. How about we stop for a relaxing cup of tea on the way back to the station."

He deffinetly heard him. He's real. He's really real. Is it possible to be so happy you cry? If he could, that's definitely what would be happening right now.

The older officer turns the key. The car is loud and shakes a bit. It would be nice to be able to feel it. He closes his eyes in anticipation. This is all so new and exciting. The noise quiets down. It sounds further away. He opens his eyes to see the car driving off without him.

If he were a better student, he probably would have known he'd phaze right through. Never mind that. Just float in the direction they were going, it can't be that hard to follow a car going normal car speeds when you can only trust yourself to go average snail speed. And so he floats down the street.

Someone curses danny, and he loses all of his strength. He's stuck as the most basic of ghosts, invisible and intangible and floating endlessly.

With an obsession like protection, while being unable to contact anyone he knows and loves, it seems impossible for him to ever regain enough strength.

He spends most of his time sleeping, allowing himself to drift through the blurry world as his ecto slowly replenishes, but since his human half digests most of his progress to stay alive, he's not getting any energy at all.

That is, until he enters Gotham. He's pushed back to conciousness by the weight of all of its trapped emotions, and the complete turmoil the city had been cast into. (Or just cause Lady Gotham, if that's your thing)

It's like torture for him. He can't leave, because of all these desperate souls he feels the need to protect, but there's nothing he can do to protect them. He's forced to watch the city fall to ruin, doing his best to ignore time passing him by.

Finally, one day, Batman becomes his saviour. He's a shining beam of hope through Gotham's doom and gloom. Danny follows him home without even realising it.

And so begins the haunting of Wayne manor, as a half-alive ghost slowly regains power and desperately tries to portray that he's alive and needs help.

[marauder-misprint]

Hair ii

part 1 part 2

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

2.2k words

cw - fluff

Your last class of the day ends and you sigh as you realize that you’ll have to give the hair tie back. Remus isn’t in your last class so you try to look around for him. You check a few places that he might be with no success. You decide to just keep your hair up until after dinner. You know he won’t skip dinner and you can give the hair tie back then. You work on homework in your house’s common room until dinner. 

From your spot at the table, you see Remus and wave. You don’t make a move towards him yet; you want to eat with your hair up. Ink in your hair was one thing. Food would be so much worse. You only half listen to your friends’ conversation as you keep glancing in Remus’ direction. You wish you had your parchment from class earlier today so you could add to the tally marks of catching Remus staring in your direction. 

After you finish eating, you make your way to where he is still sitting with his friends. As you get closer, he stands up and meets you halfway. He looks just as nervous as he had earlier. And over his shoulder, you see his friends exchange mischievous glances and whispered comments. Once Remus is standing right in front of you, you remove the hair tie and it’s impossible to not notice the faint blush creeping up Remus’ neck as you do so. 

“Thanks for the hair tie. Today had a lot less swearing, thanks to your, erm, connections.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says breathlessly. “No problem. My pleasure. Glad I could help you out.”

You hold out the hair tie for him to take and return to Sirius. He takes it and immediately shoves it into his pocket. There’s a beat of silence between you. It’s awkward with neither of you knowing what to say but not wanting to turn away. 

“So, ah,” you say, running your hand through your hair. It’s amazing how quickly you’re uncomfortable with it being down somewhere other than your dorm. 

“Yeah,” Remus says in response to whatever you said. He couldn’t take his eyes off how your hair fell around your face, making your features pop more than he was used to. “Um, do you need to get more hair ties?”

“That or beg my roommates to search for mine with me.” You look around the Great Hall. “I’m still not sure where they could’ve gone.”

“Would, erm, would you want to go to Hogsmeade? With me?” he asks. “To get more hair ties,” he adds to clarify. 

“Oh! That would be nice. I just need to grab my cloak.”

“Me too. Obviously,” he says with a chuckle. “Meet back at the gate?” 

You nod and walk out of the hall with Remus. Although you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, you swear you hear some howling from behind you, roughly as far away as his friends were sitting. You’re not sure what that’s about. 

Remus is waiting for you at the gate when you get there. You had decided to change out of your uniform for this impromptu Hogsmeade trip; Remus hadn’t. He still had on his uniform, but it was loosened to be more comfortable. 

“Ready?” he asks as he offers you his arm. 

“Yup!” you say with a shake of your coin purse before you take his arm. 

You don’t look at Remus’ face the whole walk to Hogsmeade. You felt your face heat up the moment you took his arm and you didn’t want him to see you blushing so furiously. If you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him blushing the same amount. You try to ignore your hair as it blows in the wind, but every few steps, you’re moving it out of your face, tucking it behind your ear or tossing it over your shoulder. It’s quiet as you walk, just the sound of your feet against the stone, the waves of the Black Lake and the leaves fluttering in the breeze. It really was a lovely evening with the sun low in the sky. It would certainly be dark by the time you walk back. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you always wear your hair up?” Remus asks. 

“Keeps it out of the way,” you answer. “One lesson with it down and I got ink all over!”

“There must be ways to, uh, manage it? Other girls have their hair down.”

“I’m sure there is, but I don’t know how. It’s easier to just tie it up and go, you know?”

Remus laughs. “Go, you know,” he repeats. 

“Shut up!” you laugh, finally looking at him with a smile on your face.

At this point, you could blame your flushed face on the wind. You’d be lying if you didn’t think he looked cute with his own rosy cheeks. He’s already looking at you, but what did you expect? He had been looking at you all day. 

“I suppose it also,” he starts, reaching with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “shows off your pretty face.”

With how much your blush deepened, you couldn’t blame it on the wind. You look down at your feet, away from his sweet gaze. He couldn’t help but smile wider. You were adorable and the affectionate words just slipped out. You walk for a bit longer in silence.

As you cross the short bridge into Hogsmeade, he asks, “Which store are we going to? Can’t say I buy a lot of hair ties…”

“Sirius doesn’t drag you along?”

“Believe it or not, no.”

You hum. “Well, I usually go to the Knicks and Knacks. They have the ties, and then I like to walk the aisles.” 

“Then we’ll go there, yeah? I don’t mind, uh, walking the aisles if you want to.”

“Okay,” you say with a nod. “It’s this way.”

You lead him to the shop and a bell jingles as you open the door. The shop smells of cleaning products. You drop Remus’ arm. You head for the aisle you know has the hair ties. You weren’t going to risk walking around only to forget the one thing you actually came here for, and you would do that so you actively work against your fickle memory. You select two packs, one of plain black ties, like the one you borrowed from Sirius, and one of patterned ones. Remus joins you with a basket and he grabs them from your hands to toss into said basket.

“I could’ve carried them,” you tease.

“But I have a basket!”

“Are you going shopping?”

He shrugs. “Never know what you’ll find.”

You shake your head and start to walk down the aisle away from him. It was wandering time. You didn’t need anything else, but it was nice to look. Part of you felt guilty for keeping Remus in Hogsmeade longer than he probably intended, but he didn’t say anything. He meandered the aisles a few paces behind you. You saw him toss some things into the basket, but you weren’t paying attention enough to see what exactly he had grabbed. You stop to look at the stand of makeup. You didn’t wear much; your mum always said you were at Hogwarts to study and you agreed. But a tube of mascara couldn’t hurt. You pick one out and turn to find Remus. As soon as you walk up to him, he takes the tube from your hand and puts it in the basket. 

“That all?” he asks.

“I think so. Sorry for taking so long.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

He turns toward the cashier and starts unloading the basket. You stand just slightly behind him, pulling out your coin purse.

“Two galleons,” the cashier says.

You open your purse to get the coins, but Remus is already handing the man the gold coins.

“Remus!” you gasp.

“My treat,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you.

He has a sly smile on his face that makes the blush return to your cheeks. The man hands a bag to Remus with his purchase and you exit the store together.

“What did you all get?” you ask, reaching for the bag but he holds it out of your reach. “Come on, I know hair ties and some makeup don’t add up to two galleons.”

“You’d be correct. And I’ll tell you if you’ll tolerate a butterbeer with me?”

You stop in your tracks. That was unexpected. Didn’t he have homework to get back to? You had finished yours for the night, but maybe he hadn’t. Weren’t his friends waiting on him? They had seen you return the hair tie to him at dinner. You didn’t know if he had told them where he was going after dinner.

“Oh, um, yeah. If you don’t have to get back to the castle. A butterbeer would be nice.”

His face lights up. He hooks his arm through yours, as you had been on your walk to Hogsmeade, and leads you to the Three Broomsticks. Even without the herds of students who flock to the pub on the weekends, it’s warm and packed inside. Remus guides you over to an empty table. Madam Rosmerta is quick to bring over two mugs of butterbeer. You love how she doesn’t bother asking if you want anything else; she just knows her customer base. Hogwarts students want butterbeer. 

“I suppose I should’ve asked if you needed to get back to the castle,” Remus says as he reaches for the mug in front of him.

“It’s alright. I’m in no rush.” You offer him a smile. “I made sure to finish my homework before I had to give the hair tie back.”

“Is now a bad time to tell you that Sirius said you could keep it?”

He sheepishly takes a sip as he watches your reaction. You laugh, which relaxes him. 

“I would’ve needed more anyways. A girl cannot survive with a singular hair tie.” 

“So you need two then.”

“Did you not just buy two packs for me? Hair ties need to come in the dozen.”

He hums. “Well, obviously, I don’t have expertise in hair ties. That’s more your domain. And Sirius.”

“What would you say your domain is?”

Human to animal transfigurations is the first thing that goes through his mind and what he would’ve said to the Marauders. 

“Prank logistics?” 

You laugh. “Yeah? You’re the secret to the Marauders’ success?”

“I can’t take all the credit. We all do our part.”

“And you all get the detention.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but-”

Your continued laughter cuts him off. You don’t know why he’s trying to defend himself, or what he’s trying to defend, really. It was a fact that they earned their fair amount of detentions for their extracurriculars. 

“Do you, uh, like our pranks?”

“The ones that aren’t cruel,” you say with a nod. “I must say, I’m glad I haven’t been on the receiving end yet.”

“Yet?”

“Oh, I just assume it’s a matter of time. Doesn’t everyone end up a target at one point or another?”

Remus appears to ponder that for a moment.

“Certain people are off limits.”

“Yeah? What earns ‘em that privilege?”

“Either the potential consequence or they are of… importance to one of us.”

You take in that answer. You don’t think that pranking you would have a horrible consequence. You’d take it in stride as best as you could, depending on what it is. You could assume what being “of importance” meant, but you weren’t totally sure that was what he was implying. 

“Anyone on that list?”

“Professor Boubble, Professor McCraugh, Lily Evans, Peter’s sisters,” Remus lists off. 

He left off one name, unsure how you’d take it. You seem intrigued by the names he lists off, or rather, the names he didn’t say.

“You’d prank McGonagall? Dumbledore?”

“Please! They’d love it!” he laughs. “They’d take away points and give detention, but they’d love it.” 

“Do you guys have anything in the works?”

“Always. James and Sirius are just endless ideas.”

“Are you able to talk about it? Or are you sworn to secrecy?”

“Alas, secrecy is the secret to success,” he says with a wink.

“I won’t tell! I promise!”

He shakes his head before taking a sip of butterbeer. 

“Sorry, love. I like you but my lips are sealed.”

I like you. 

“Ah, it was worth a try.”

The conversation drifts away from pranks to assignments for classes and your differing electives to which candies are your favorite and what the last book you read was. You both finish your mugs, which are quickly replaced with fresh glasses by Rosmerta. After you finish those mugs, you decide it’s time to head back. Your easy conversation lasts all the way from the Three Broomsticks to the doors of Hogwarts. 

“Uh, before you go, can I ask something?” Remus asks, nervously fiddling with the bottom of his jumper.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Was, um, was that a date?”

His face burns red, embarrassed with the question. You bite your lip as you look up at him. 

“If you want it to be.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You had been wondering the same thing since he paid for your butterbeers too. 

He holds out the bag from Knick and Knack, having held onto it the entire evening. 

“Yeah, I’d like it to be,” he says softly.

You go up onto your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Then it was. Good night Remus, and thank you for the hair ties. All of them.”

@c0ldstvff - this for you ❤️

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Are your requests open? Could I ask for Optimus dating a human for the first time? SFW and/or N$FW is ok ♥️

Since you didn't specify, I'm going for a vaguely G1/Prime vibe. Forgive errors, i typed this on my phone since I'm visiting fam for holidays.

He was pretty slick about it, asking you to accompany him on a scouting mission. Prime doesn't scout. But all you thought was how nice it would be to spend some time with the big boss himself. After all, you both had confessed attraction to each other. With him admitting an odd interest in you, and you letting it slip he was rather nice to look at. Even if nothing came out of it, it was nice to clear the air. And the fact he didn't avoid you after meant more than you could say. He was still nice to look at.

The sound of his engine and the radio mixed with your humming. You didn't know the lyrics, but the tune was close enough. Sitting in the passenger seat while his holoform occupied the driver's. It still felt odd to talk to it... him, through it, so you stared out the window when you did.

"What are we on the lookout for?" You ask, glancing at mountains in the distance. He was quiet. Longer than any leader-like contemplation you were used to. "Prime?"

His voice interrupts the music, "I have not been entirely honest with you y/n." He sounds remorseful, and you feel a clench in your heart, "we are not here to scout, nor are we here for any sort of mission."

You fidget with the edge of the seat. What could have Prime lying and feeling so bad about it?

"After our conversation the other day, i did some thinking-"

Oh shit. Did you make him uncomfortable?

"-I believe it best to-"

"Prime, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so forward. It just slipped out." You interrupt, trying to smooth over whatever wrinkles you caused.

"Please allow me to finish." He says with that stern but patient tone. The engine shifts, and he pulls onto a side road, "I wish to apologize for not acting sooner, I simply wished to ensure I moved forward properly. I believe the next step on earth is a date to explore our mutual interests?"

A what?

He continued talking about the research he did and how it was similar to cybertronian customs, but it seemed to move faster in comparison. You listened, still processing what this meant.

"Wait... so..." You put a hand to your face as you focus, "this isn't a scouting mission. It's a date?"

"Correct." Prime affirms He turns off again to another side road. This one flanked by trees that get more and more dense, "I apologize for the deception, and for the lack of activity. It's hard to find such things to accommodate our coupling."

His choice of the word coupling made you chuckle, and cheeks go warm, "N-no Prime this... is pretty clever, actually." Glancing at the driver seat, you make a face, "but for the love of god, please get rid of that thing."

You can feel the rumble of laughter in his engine before it flickers and dissipates.

Prime is the kind of bot to really want to get to know you. And you love the idea of one on one time with him. A long drive in solitude is the best way to get to know each other. Open up about some things. Share hopes and what you would want from such a strange relationship.

The nerves subsided quickly. It felt natural. it felt good to talk to him. It felt like he listened and was honest when he spoke.

He stops for you to grab some food, seeing as you both got lost in the conversation and were out far longer than expected. Optimus apologized for not thinking of that even after all the research.

You lean against the window, smiling at the stars. He's telling you a story about how he once woke from recharge to find energon stacked in front of his door. The deep voice lulling you to sleep. It felt appropriate for him to take the long way back.

N$fw vauge at most.

Perhaps this date turned into another. And another. A date here and there. He thought it cute when you kissed his dash before getting out of the cab. NO, you absolutely would not kiss the holoform, but caved when he would use it to hold your hand as you got out of the cab. Only on the cheek, of course.

You would call Prime a gentleman, but there was no missing the way his engine sounds like it stalls when you sit in the passenger seat; asking if this date was when you should invite him inside. His voice sputters about more research and compatibility.

"Shame, you don't have a bed in the back prime." You say while one hand runs down your body, "could really put it to use now."

You notice the way he speeds up as you continue touching yourself, engine thundering down the road. Hopefully, there aren't any state troopers.

There is a shyness to your actions, hoping he doesn't dislike this. Not to mention how odd it is to perform with no audience. Not that you want the holoform now. It would kill the mood more than anything. He can sense your body heating up, and each time you trip over your words, trying to be sexy, his engine purrs. Slowly unbuttoning your top has him wishing he could transform and feel you with more than the sensors in his cab.

"You're beautiful." He says as you shimmy out of your pants. The human form was alien , yet familiar. Soft forms on a Cybertronian like frame. "Beautiful..." he says as you part your thighs and lips. "Beautiful." He whispers when you bring yourself to the edge. That deep voice confessed how he had thought about this. How you would look. What he wants to try. Promising it to be his hand, somehow, to bring you here next time.

But first he needs to look into a new altform. Somthing with a bed in the back.

[batboyblog]

Hi! I was wondering if you're planning to continue the "Stuff the Biden Admin is Doing" series through early January? I'm seeing a lot of hopelessness and (obv) tons of focus on the new cabinet picks, their plan for the first 100 days, etc. And I'm hoping that we can take some time to focus on what (if anything) the admin is using these last few weeks to try and accomplish. Ty for all you do!

honestly I don't know.

when I started it there was just overwhelming zeitgeist that Biden didn't do anything as President, that he was so old he was basically dead, that his brains were soft bananas and endlessly "he promised to get rid of Student loan debt and that just never happened! so why believe anything he says!" all of which was horse shit. So I felt like rather than just bitch about it, I'd do what I could in a very small way to be counter programing to that. But the election was always a part of it? I was always making them with the implied case that Joe Biden deserved re-election which I firmly believe he earned by any objective marker, and after he decided he couldn't overcome the propaganda wave about his age and health, that his Vice-President surely deserved election based on what their administration had managed.

I hope I did convince at least some people to vote for Harris in the end.

any ways, for me posting more as the Biden administration ends would be deeply depressing, dealing with what we're losing and comparing what every week will look like for the next 4 years. Also at this late date, new rules are subject to a review period where the President can freeze and reverse them pretty easily so a lot of anything the Biden team passes can and will be stopped and returned because Trump will become President during the review period. Likewise any Executive Orders Biden's signed during his Presidency can be ripped up on day one of the Trump Presidency

So anything the Biden team gets done before January is very fragile at best and thats sad and depressing

any ways, I think if I'm feeling up to it in January I'll maybe try to write up some kind of overview of the full 4 years of the Biden Presidency and how great it was. And Sadly I suspect I'll get more and more active in covering the trash of the second Trump Presidency

sadly for all of us, I don't think there will be much good news in the years ahead, but I think we have to learn to live with that? um authoritarianism relies not so much on enthusiastic mass support so much as mass apathy, the majority going "ugh there's nothing we can do, why bother paying attention" or "it makes me too sad/upset to watch the news" I see a lot of people pushing vaguely self helpy "take care of yourself" type posts about gardening or whatever as activism and I fear people pulling away from the uncomfortable, from politics and giving up on the idea that change is possible. Someone talked about how middle class liberals in Europe, in Germany in particular after the Revolutions of 1830 and 1848 failed almost totally and the authoritarian conservatives won, these liberals withdrew from political life and became very focused on art, music, domestic life because they gave up and you have in the 1850s-80s a period where conservative elites in Germany have basically all their own way and it had longer term echos. I fear that a lot.

[cakepoppresent]

Don't Let Me Slap You

Would Gideon actually beat the shit outta Malcolm if Veronica asked? No, but he would scare Malcolm a little cuz he would think it's funny

Transcript under the cut~

Veronica: Let me know. Should I beat your ass now or later?

Malcolm: What the hell did I do?

Veronica: Oh! So I should slap some sense into that thick skull of yours too?

Malcolm: I didn’t DO anything!

Veronica: Malcolm.

Veronica: Just think critically for 5 minutes. Do you think ignoring her messages and calls is any better?

Malcolm: I didn’t do anything. She shouldn’t be interested in looking for Andre. It's stupid and it's only going to get her hurt

Veronica: It’s like you want me to slap you in front of all these people

Malcolm: She’s the one that walked out on me.

Malcolm: I thought you’d be on my side.

Veronica: Lets use our thinking caps right now. You know you’re both very important to me yes?

Malcolm: Yes...

Veronica: So why did you think I’d side with you when your acting like an manipulative asshole. Is that how I raised you?

Malcolm: I’m...not being manipulative!!

Veronica: Refusing to talk to her? Ignoring her calls? Benji limits his contact with her so he won’t make YOU angry. All because she’s doing something you don’t want. Explain how that’s not manipulative.

Malcolm: *standing in slience foolishly*

Veronica: Well?? I’m waiting. Am I wrong?

Malcolm: *Refuses to answer*

Veronica: Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Malcolm: Why is no one on my side in this ?! Why am I in the wrong! Is it wrong to want to protect my peace?!

Veronica: Your way of protecting your peace means punishing Luna for wanting to do something you don’t like! That's unacceptable and I need you to cut that shit out TODAY and have an actual conversation with Luna OR ELSE I’ll get Gideon to beat the shit out of you

Malcolm: God! This isn’t FAIR. Its like no one is thinking about me or my feelings!

Veronica: Luna has ALWAYS put you first and you KNOW that.

Veronica: Let me ask you. That business man she’s been dating has she introduced him to you at all?

Malcolm:...She’s still seeing that scay ass dude?

Veronica: She’s been seeing that man for a YEAR and you know why she hasn’t introduced you? Do you wanna know?

Malcolm:....

Veronica: Because she KNOWS you don’t like him and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Your feelings ALWAYS come first and it's pissing me off that the one time she wants to do something you’re punishing her for it.

Veronica: I’m giving you until the end of the fucking week to reach out to Luna and apologize for your shitty actions or I swear to God I’ll get Gidon to beat the fucking shit out of you. Do you understand?

Malcolm: FINE! Fuck whatever.

Veronica: Yeah thats what I fucking thought. Don’t make Luna cry and actually TALK to her

Malcolm: Wait...Shut up do you hear that?

Veronica: I beg your pardon? Are you insane?

Loser #1: Did you see that stuff about Luna online?

Loser #2: Be specific there is a bunch of shit being said about her

Loser #1: They’re saying that the dude she's been seen with is her “sponsor”. I guess since shes pimping herself out to the highest bidder

Loser #2: Hahaha shes “High Class” she won’t look at a poor man like you

Loser #1: Maybe if I take out a loan she would roll in the sack with me. It's clear she's in need of funds her family is in shambles!

Malcolm: I dare you to say that shit again. I fucking dare you

Loser #1: What the fuck is your problem

Malcolm: Say that shit again!

Loser #1: You’re mad about what I said about that whore of an actress? Who cares!

Malcolm: Bet.

Malcolm: If I fucking see or hear you on this campus again ima put your bitch ass 6 feet under do you understand?

Loser #1: What the fuck dude. Get the guck off me!

Malcolm: Do. You. Understand?

Loser #1: Yes! Jesus Christ you bastard get off me!

[pixeldolly]

The Survivors, part 5

(the last batch)

☢️Erwin Pries (by @frauhupfner )

Erwin knows what nobody else seems to - that it wasn't a government experiment gone wrong or an enemy bomb which destroyed that secret lab and unleashed the zombie virus - it was the ALIENS! That's right - wake up, people!

Erwin may look and sound like a kook, but his ideas are surprisingly persuasive - or maybe people are just desperate for an explanation.

☢️Todd Estrella (Sim & bio by @moyokeansimblr)

Todd is rather arrogant but he's a sweetheart deep down. He's not malicious, just big headed and bad at reading social cues to know when he's out of line. He thinks he's tough, so expect him to go into this experience EXTREMELY over-confident before realizing he knows nothing about simanity, let alone apocalyptic simanity. IE volunteering to do things he can't, being places he shouldn't. But he's an excellent hype man. I imagine this experience to be very humbling for him and bring him closer to simkind.

Todd's sexuality should the opportunity present itself, is everybody. But he does have a preference for whatever big strong man is actually the one in charge of everything.

Todd is afraid of everything but masks it with curiosity. His biggest fear is the dark and his bedroom in the UFO he arrived in had six nightlights but don't tell anyone that.

Todd thinks that because he's an alien he's immune to sim germs and grime. But he very much is not.

☢️Hernesto & Nicolas Esposito (Sims & bios by @gvaudoiin-tricou )

Hernesto was one of the scientists in charge of a failed experiment that cost him an eye. When he found Nicolas, he knew the boy was special, but what truly caught his attention was his bright red eyes...and not the fact that the boy was covered in blood, surrounded by corpses. In that moment, he knew neither of them would be alone anymore.

Nicolas never knew who his parents were, or at least doesn't remember their faces. When people started killing each other and resources became scarce everywhere, Nicolas was just a kid hiding in an alley among corpses. Maybe he killed them, maybe he didn't...he doesn't remember either way.

☢️Anne Cleves (by @clouseplayssims)

Anne was a rich, sheltered girl whose family wanted her to marry a much older, several-times divorced man for money.

If not for society collapsing, Anne would probably have gone along with it like a good, dutiful daughter, but now she doesn't have to. If anything good could be said to have come out of the disaster, it is her freedom. Anne would rather take her chances with the zombies, honestly.

(This is my take on a post-apocalyptic Anne of Cleves, lol)

☢️Almalexia Goth (Sim & concept by @veronadragon)

They were the fruit of an affair between a rich Pleasantview socialite and a local man, and as a result she has grown up with many complicated feelings regarding their family.

On the one hand, they are away from all of that now - on the other, ruins are awfully cold and uncomfortable to sleep in compared to the cushy Goth manor, to say nothing of rampaging zombies...

☣️Hoppie AKA Patient Zero (by @andrevasims )☣️

When Hoppie drifted into Fallow Shores, she wasn't feeling very well, so she steered clear of the other survivors.

She'd seen what happened to the others!

That was not going to happen to her - she just needed to sleep, she'd feel better in the morning...

[miammey]

Everyone's just talking about how hot Lighter is, and yeah he's attractive, but he has such a painful story and barely anyone is mentioning it??? I haven't even finished all his hangout stuff yet, but already I can tell that he's still extremely troubled by what happened in his past.

During the film we watch with him he wasn't scared of the blood and gore, mainly since there wasn't as much as expected (and he wore his glasses so he wouldn't faint), but he was scared about what one of the characters did that caused a disaster, something he relates to in a sense, saying that even if he looked calm his hands were shaking. I wanted to tell him that he can stay and calm down all he wants, give him a more relaxing movie to watch free of charge, because to me he felt so uncomfortable after watching the movie because he didn't expect it to hit so close

And don't get me started on this man's physical injuries. He's covered in MASSIVE scars, realistically, if we were to map out how they got there, he would've nearly had his arm cut off or just be cut in half. He mentioned that another reason he wears sunglasses is because of an old injury, even tho it's basically already healed he just no longer feels comfortable going out without them. He mentioned his neck and legs weren't what they once were, and judging by his backstory that's mainly because he's always fighting. He's the type to strain himself to whatever extent necessary do get the task done

He also is just genuinely so attached to his gang and so scared of losing them, but even then he stays strong because others need him to. He also saw Caesar almost die, his leader and a good friend, and yet he stayed strong for Lucy. He goes off by himself to deal with things because he doesn't want to get others in the gang involved, and he's just so genuinely earnest. He's caring and awkward and bad at hiding it, but he's still that Champion, a position he takes pride in because it means he's succeeding at protecting his loved ones, something he failed to do in the past

Speaking of the past, back to him being self-sacrificing, he went into debt and basically signed his life away to pay it off after his group all died all to make sure their families were taken care of. He knew that businessmen were greedy and there's a good chance it would take decades for him to pay them off, if he ever would, but he still did it. He described himself as a zombie back then, and only until after he got comfortable with the gang did he break out of that state

I know people gawk over attractive characters, I can't say I don't as well at times, but every time he's on screen and anything even remotely seems to upset him I just wanna make him comfortable. He's relaxed, but not comfortable, and I don't think he's been comfortable for a very long time. He says everything's in the past, but I'm pretty sure he's still trying to convince himself of that, because what happened in his past had such a big impact on his future that it's still in the back of his mind day in and day out

[catghoul31]

Those Damned Claws

Logan's lived with the consequences of almost never using his claws until recently for decades now. Some days are worse than others, but Wade has been a huge help recently.

If only they weren't both having a "worse day" today.

(for @poolverine-week Day 5: Chronic Pain)

Content Warnings: PTSD memories, implied suicidal thoughts

Read it under the cut, or on ao3!

Upon walking into their apartment, Logan rubbed between the knuckles of the hand that had just grabbed the doorknob, right where three red sore spots throbbed uncomfortably. It was yet another day for him where, however painful it was, his claws just wouldn’t retract all the way...

“Whiskey dick of the claws,” Wade called it when they first met- and every single time the claws would barely poke out- but it was more than that. For years after he’d exhausted the last of his furious energy, killed the last anti-mutant bastard in that horrible haze of his for whatever reason- could’ve been anything from destroying the X-Mansion to looking at him wrong, those claws had been firmly sheathed within him. Once he’d fucked up his own world, he had to keep any sign of his mutation firmly locked inside of him. They couldn’t kill him, but they’d sure as hell try if he ever attempted to be anything resembling who he was again. Better to keep his head down and live out the rest of his days as a social pariah.

So when Wade had taken him away from his universe, changed his life forever, he noticed just how much they’d started to hurt. It had always stung somewhat, even when he was using them regularly, but he’d always shrugged it off- it felt like nothing more than a pinprick back then. Since he’d gone so long without using them, though, it wasn’t uncommon for him to go days just dealing with their pointy adamantium tips constantly scraping against his knuckles, begging to be released in spite of how hard his mind berated him for even thinking of using them…

Logan’s most painful days always brought with them an incredibly loud mind. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore- that’s what Wade had told him, now that he lived here- but the screams, the voices, the shouts of you killed them and why won’t you just die echoed through his head ceaselessly. Sliding onto the couch with a groaning sigh, he put his face in his hands, wishing anything could feel real right now besides the memories and the pain.

Dogpool trotted up and bumped into Logan’s leg, hopping up to try and get his attention. He didn’t even notice, as another image flashed through his mind of a pair of innocent, terrified eyes, silently begging the bloodied Wolverine to spare his life. He knew that moment like it was yesterday. He knew how it ended. How every single one of those memories always ended.

…He needed a drink. Now.

Abruptly standing up, he staggered over to the fridge, begging for there to be anything inside that would help the voices stop- only to be met with the sight of Wade sticking his head in the freezer. Logan thought the beeps he’d been hearing ever since he’d gotten home had been his imagination, but lo and behold, he heard them again. Much closer now, as the noise was coming from the freezer begging Wade to close the door already. He took a short look at him, immensely concerned by what he saw- dark bags under his eyes, skin way too red in some spots and ghostly pale in others, and a concerning amount of crusted bodily fluids surrounding his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. He was staring straight forward, not looking for anything, but definitely making no move to keep the contents inside from defrosting.

Well, this was just fantastic… Logan was having a shit day, and so was Wade. They were both in incredible amounts of pain thanks to their dumb mutant bodies… okay, Wade’s body was only dumb because it hurt him, but still- it looked like they both had shitty luck today. He tried to talk to Wade, but was interrupted by the freezer beeping again. 

“…Need some help, bub?” he asked, his voice strained since it even hurt to move his jaw at this point- god, fuck his metal bones. Wade instantly staggered back, the door closing on its own when he left it alone. Logan couldn’t help but notice his stench, which was way stronger than usual. It would've been repulsive, if it wasn’t coming from someone he loved dearly.

“Shit- you scared me, peanut!!” Wade chuckled, almost immediately devolving into coughs as his shaky legs collapsed underneath him. Logan immediately moved to try and help him up, but grunted loudly as his knees and hips screamed at him for even thinking about it, and-

Now they were both on the floor. Logan was gazing at Wade apologetically, noticing now that the “crust” around his eyes and nose was ice- how fucking long had Wade been in that freezer?? And why hadn’t he let him know how bad today had gotten for him? He would’ve come home immediately, done whatever he could- and now he couldn’t do anything.

“…Sorry if I’m not much for talk this evening. My body kinda feels like Satan’s asshole right now!” Wade croaked, and- yeah, Logan saw it, that was a concerning amount of sweat to be pouring down the face of someone who just got done living in the fucking freezer.

“You’re on death’s door, and you’re worried about not running your mouth as much as you usually do…” Logan wasn’t even a little surprised. He knew very well that Wade didn’t give a fuck about his body… He sure as shit didn’t like seeing it, but he knew.

“I’m the merc with a mouth, honey!! How can I…” Wade lapsed for a moment, clearly on the verge of passing out. “…I gotta do my job! I’m not a super-popular anti-hero because of how sick I am, I gotta get back to-“

“You aren’t doin’ shit, Wade.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed at Logan for a moment, looking quite disappointed. Maybe even annoyed? It didn’t matter. Logan wasn’t budging, and he was sure his boyfriend knew it. “…What’re you doing on the floor with me, peanut? How are you gonna stop me from getting up and killing someone right now, huh? Someone… someone drank a little too much b-bone hurting juice today-“

“Bub… Stop talking, holy fuck,” Logan groaned, trying to move his hand as close to Wade as he could manage. “I don’t need to stop you. If you’re having trouble yapping, you’re definitely not doing any of that-”

Wade was pointing at his clenched fist, snickering weakly. He swore, if it was because those god damn claws of his-

“Y’got boner claws, Logi-bear,” he teased, giving him half a mind to force them out all the way and shove them into his torso.

Despite the deep frown on his face- which only made Wade chuckle a bit more, resulting in another harrowingly loud coughing fit- the other half of Logan’s mind knew he’d feel really bad if he made him hurt any more than he already did. What kind of boyfriend stabbed their partner- when they were sick, no less?? It reminded him way too much of how he used to be in his world, a habit he was trying desperately to break, and he couldn’t stand-

“Actually… while I’m thinking about it, could you just stab me in the stomach with those real quick? I promise I’m onto something here!!”

The world was playing a cruel, awful joke on Logan right now, wasn’t it.

“…The fuck?? No!” Logan grunted, bringing his fist back to his body with a wince, forcing the tips of his claws back in- as painful as it was. It was almost like his body was too exhausted to keep them retracted, like it wanted to fight back against the nonexistent enemy causing him this much pain. But there wasn’t any way on this goddamn earth he’d stab someone over it, let alone Wade. It didn’t matter if he wanted to… he loved him more than he’d ever loved anybody. Why would he do that?

Unfortunately, Wade had come armed with reasons. “Babe, hear me out!! I’ve eyed the pistol I keep on my nightstand, like, five times today-“

“What the fuck, Wade??”

“-and it’s because if part of my body gets severely injured, my healing factor has something else to focus on besides killing all my cells for no reason!! Well- there is a reason, they’re all cancer- but the only reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want you to come home and find me dead! It’s… I promise it’ll work.” As he explained himself, Wade was writhing painfully on the floor, gripping different parts of his torso like they just exploded or something-

Logan had always been frustrated whenever Wade got like this. Not at Wade- never at Wade- but at the fact that there was nothing he could do besides watch him suffer. His own pain wasn’t helping Logan think rationally about this- he needed Wade to stop hurting before he could focus on himself, and if he honestly wasn’t fucking with him- but he was… so tired of hurting people. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

Wade took his clenched fist, and to Logan’s absolute horror, moved it right to his chest, where every single one of his vital organs were. Without realizing it, he whined desperately, trying to look away- every ache in his body made those claws of his want to spring out even more, and…

“Please, Wolvie. I’d rather it be you inside me than a bullet, anyways! I know you gotta use your claws right now anyways-“ of course he did, of fucking course he did- “so… please?”

Immediately, Wade was impaled. Logan’s eyes screwed shut, tears filling them as he tried to ignore the scream that ripped through his throat, even with all the joking and profanity that followed- all he could focus on was how much blood he would see if his eyes dared to open. There was no way he could bring himself to look right now… not with his mind screaming KILLER, MURDERER, LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE-

“… Mggh - gah! Fucking… there we go. Just enough bloodshed for me to…” Wade had pulled himself off his claws carefully, waiting for the wounds to close before standing up. Logan didn’t notice, too busy trapped in the memories that wouldn’t leave, hearing screams of long-dead people, begging for Wade’s voice not to join them.

His exposed arm, with his claws still unsheathed, was grabbed, and Wade pulled hard, dragging him across the floor. Logan could still smell blood, it wasn’t safe to open his eyes yet, and he didn’t care about anything Wade was doing to him right now- he had every right to fling him over the roof, in his book.

But of course Wade didn’t do that. Because, for some god-forsaken reason, he loved him. Loved him enough to fling his entire body onto the couch, as much as the panting he heard had him entirely concerned for his well-being. The freezer opened again, and Logan would’ve told him not to start living in it again if his mind was a little quieter.

Thankfully, Wade came back after a reasonable amount of time, and Logan finally opened his eyes as he felt cold packs being draped over almost every single one of his joints. Soon after, Wade’s eyes met his, shimmering with concern, love, and… illness, obviously, and they came even closer when he unceremoniously fell on top of Logan, making him yelp in surprise.

“Wade, you…” Logan sighed, wishing he could move his hands somehow without hurting Logan. “…Don’t do that. Don’t hurt yourself- not for my sake, please-“

“Sweetie pumpkin. That helped me… and it helped you! You just helped both of us, alright? Pinky promise,” Wade whispered roughly, wrapping his pinky around Logan’s without a single fuck given about the claws that were within inches of it. And… he was getting comfortable here. No way Logan could get him off without putting up a fight…

Good thing he really didn’t want to. Not with how warm he felt, how the comfort settled into his bones and convinced a tiny part of his brain that maybe, tomorrow morning, everything would be okay.

“Love ya, peanut,” Wade sighed, his voice almost imperceptible with how muffled it was by Logan’s chest.

“…I love you too, Wade. I love you so much…”

Logan wanted to retract his claws, hold Wade as close as possible- but they felt better out right now, and it’d probably be like that until they woke up. His eyes were drooping- and Wade was way ahead of him, having already completely passed out on top of him- and he willed himself not to give in to the urge to stay awake, protect Wade at all costs because there would always be something in the shadows waiting to steal the ones he loved from under his nose-

But the only blood he smelled in this house was Wade’s. And none of it was being spilled right now…

He was here. He was alive. He was breathing- snoring- on top of him, and however badly he felt right now, he would recover.

They both would.

[iloveelvisss]

Hiiiii!!! If you have time, I would like to request a fic of cowboy!Elvis X shy!reader.

Now, this one can be a little blurb or a whole fic, I do not mind, whatever makes you comfortable girliee 🫶

Where reader is entering a bar(could be in modern times) from being on the road for 6 hours straight moving to a new house in another state and when she's walking around shyly, trying to be as small as possible, Elvis notices her and immediately becomes obsessed with her and decides to go flirt?

Kinda random but I think that would be so cute🤭

Take all the time you need!❤���

Awww, ofccc!!! Love this just like I love talking to you about our man💓. Hope I can do you justice with this!!!

Cute lil’ cowboy (Elvis fic)

Pairing: cowboy!Elvis x shy!Reader

Summary: While driving to your new home, you stop in at a small town bar, just wanting a break from the long trip. You catch the eye of a certain local cowboy and he tries his hand at opening you up.

Warnings/triggers: None, I don’t think. Mostly just fluff💓

At this point, you sort of wished you’d said no to the job offer. All it was, was a secretary position for some big company, and you thought now that you’d been on the road for six whole hours, that your old job was much better. And your old apartment was quite comfortable (it wasn’t, you just wanted another thing to complain about on this torturous car trip).

So as you pulled into the next town, you park your car outside a quaint little bar. The town is small, and it’s quite obvious, but you desperately need a break from this awful drive, so you get out anyways.

But your introverted self regrets it as you enter the bar, and the little bell on the door alerts every patron of your out-of-place presence. Every single pair of eyes zero in on you, and you suddenly feel as though you can’t breathe. You’ve always been shy— your mother always tried to get you out of such a habit. But in situations like being in a bar in a town you’ve never been before, with people that look like they’re judging your every move, you lose your ability to speak— or look up from the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, one particular pair of eyes can’t look away, even after everyone else has went back to minding their own business. Elvis just thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous. The way you so obviously feel uncomfortable is just adorable to him. He wants to talk to you— no needs to talk to you. He wants to know who’s under the cute little shy cover. You intrigue him in a way no other passing-through woman has.

He saunters over to you, and he’s keen on the way your eyes widen— it makes him smile. He tips his hat as he sits beside you. “Hi there. Ain’t seen ya before, what’s yer name, darlin’?” He makes sure to pile on the charm, putting on his most attractive smile.

And then there’s a large amount of time where he just gets to watch you sputter and act like a child that can’t speak yet. But all the while he’s smiling, finding your shyness endearing.

Finally, after what feels like an agonizingly long time, you sigh and find your words, “I- I’m… I’m Y/N. S’ nice to meet you,” you smile cutely and awkwardly stick out your hand, to which he presses a soft kiss to. “Aw, well that’s a pretty name for pretty lil’ thing like you. My name is Elvis,” he sets your hand down and then stuns you with piercing eye contact— his eyes are absolutely beautiful, so blue and electric. “Now, what brings ya in here?”

You look around before attempting to maintain eye contact again. “Needed a break from my road trip. I’m moving for a job.” You smile back at him and he swears it almost makes him drop dead. He nods along, “I see, I see. So ya wanna ‘nother drink, darlin’? S’ on me.”

It’s about then that you backtrack on your earlier thoughts, and are actually quite grateful you stopped in here. You also find yourself wondering what his pretty lips would be like to kiss. He seems to notice because a small smirk shows up on said lips. You shake yourself from your trance, “U- um, yes. Yeah, that’d be great, thank you so much.” You stumble over your words, embarrassed you’d been caught staring. He notices your blush, but it only makes him smirk even more.

He nods and asks the bartender, who you now know is Albert, for two beers. And then for the next thirty minutes, he pulls out all the tricks to get you out of your shell— it works. You’re giggling and talking and having an amazing time by the time you finish your beer.

You look up from a giggling fit to his eyes piercing into you with an expression you can quite place. All you know is that it sends butterflies flying through your belly. “What…?”

Your tone is nervous, thinking maybe he’s lost interest or something, or that your laugh has made him question himself— you’ve always been a chronic overthinker. But he makes you gasp as he reaches up and pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is gentle and sweet— reverent, “I wanna kiss ya. Would ya like that, honey?”

Your breath leaves you and you just stare at him with wide eyes for at least two minutes. He starts to pull away, second-guessing himself, as you begin nodding. He then smiles dazzlingly.

It seems like the world stops as he leans in. His lips feel plush and oh so amazing as they press against yours. You respond almost immediately, and fireworks shoot off.

When he pulls back, he’s already grinning. “How ‘bout ya jus’ get back on the road in the mornin’? My house makes for a great hotel.”

You find yourself giggling yet again as you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Thank you, Elvis.”

I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t like any of my writing and I’m my biggest critic, but I wanted to get this out like I promised. Much love to all of you lovies, and I hope you might enjoy anyway?😋🤠 (also Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates).

Tags: @queenstarlight @jhoneybees (lmk if you wanna be added)