#he's probably really quiet and when he does talk he slurs his words

[britishchick09]

this is sort of like how rewrite erik would be when drunk! ;)

[solbaby7]

Nothing Even Matters

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings: swearing, probably typos, some angst, mentions of trauma, some fluff

summary: When the only thing you want during your recovery is the very person who put you there in the first place.

[ part one ]

—

“How’s it feel?”

“Fuck you,” You seethe through your teeth, words slurred from the wires holding your jaw shut—only for a few days, they said with remorse but all you could feel was such all-consuming rage. Such intense anger because you couldn’t move your body how you wanted; your arm was stiff in the tight bandaging holding it to your body while the dislocation and fractures healed.

Azriel glanced over at Rhysand who was offering Madja a sheepish smile, hands tucked in his pockets as he stood beside you. “Believe it or not, that was a lot nicer than some of the other words she’s been stringing together.”

“She shouldn’t be talking at all. Healing from a broken jaw is no easy feat—talking before the bone properly sets can lead to us needing to rebreak it all over again.” The heated glare you send her way could’ve killed if they were sharpened swords and Azriel has to step in front of you to ease the stormcloud you were casting above the room. Madja doesn’t seem to mind, urging the spymaster to step aside while she began her assessment. “Follow my finger,” Your eyes narrow with hate but you comply after a beat of time. “Good, no noticeable neurological deficits,” She scribbles something in a notepad, noting down the amount of pain meds you’d been receiving and an update of your vitals. “Your swelling seems to have gone down significantly—does it still hurt when I touch here?”

The High Lord cringes at the stream of profanities that slam at the edge of his mind; an act you’d been subconsciously doing since the moment the tonics for the pain had worn off the first time three days ago. You’d shoved your anguish out as far as it would go, so hard Rhysand had choked on a breath, hands clenching at his sides as he put forth more effort than normal to keep his mental shields up. “She says yes.”

Your hand taps once at Azriel’s arm and when he looks at you, you give him a jerky nod of your head. “She wants to know when she can go home?”

Madja lowers the notebook, voice annoyingly calm and full of understanding; not deterred by your attitude in the slightest. In fact, she seems to expect it, smiling softly before speaking, “Have you been eating?”

Your hand slams down twice on the table before you.

It’s jarring; aggression was never something you’d displayed often, if ever, but Azriel only takes a step closer, nearly sitting on the edge of your cot with an arm wrapped around the back of your pillow.

“I’ll assume that’s a yes.” Madja continues writing, bullet pointing your behavior and way you reel in your snark for the shadowsinger beside you. “Have you been able to get to the bathroom on your own?”

Two more slams against the table but these are much harsher than the first, a cup full of water splashing at the sides and Azriel lets out a sigh. “Not on her own but she’s really close. The dizziness just gets to her when she’s standing for too long.”

Rhysand spares a glance at the towering frame standing in the corner behind them absorbing every word like a child experiencing the world for the first time. Cassian had been unbearably quiet, avoiding Azriel at all costs but he was the first who’d noticed you beginning to stir awake. He’d barely left, always getting caught with a rag and warm water, dragging at your skin gentler than fingertips on flower petals. Rhys had to knock Cass out himself when the med staff came to take you away, advising that the wiring was imperative but the General couldn’t stop screaming about how you’d already been through enough; about how you deserved a full day of peace before putting you through even more pain.

“Any other symptoms besides the dizziness?”

You hesitate, heated gaze faltering for a beat of time before you’re slamming your hand down once and Cassian waits a full thirty seconds; golden eyes boring into Azriel’s back, urging him to mention the nausea, the splitting headaches that had you gripping at the first hand you came in contact with for any sort of comfort.

But, Azriel doesn’t say a thing.

“That’s good, what about—“

“Headaches,” Cassian’s voice is raspy with such little use and he’s more than grateful for the brace preventing you from moving around too much because he’s certain one of those sickeningly sharp glares were being specially crafted with his name on it. “She gets headaches and throws up sometimes because of one of the tonics—it’s orange.”

Madja, ever the professional hums in acknowledgment, scribbling down more notes and a furrow grows at her brow. “Could be an allergy or maybe the mixture is too much on your stomach without solid foods yet,” She not even talking to you, just muttering her thoughts aloud while the others tense; awaiting your reaction. They wait for the ball to drop; wait for the throwing of the first item in sight. It wouldn’t have been the first time and Az’s shadows had gotten surprisingly good at predicting it, darkness darting before the window before you could smash it to pieces since Madja insisted she’d dock any damages from your pay. “Thank you, General, that was quite helpful.”

A full minute passes and still, there’s no yelling; no frustrated grunts or shouting in your mind—just utter silence and you’re too busy settling further into your pillow to notice Rhys’ curious stare.

“If you can manage no talking for seventy-two hours then I will clear you to finish your recovery from home,” You’re nodding before she can finish, Azriel gently pushing you back when you try to sit up in your excitement. “I mean it—I’ll know if you aren’t taking the physical therapy seriously. At least an hour of walking a day ; slowly so you don’t aggravate your ribs and I’ll take off the shoulder wrap if you swear not to do any heavy lifting of any kind.” You throw her a pointed look, a hand waving around to motion at the three men that had been permanently stationed around you.

“We’ll take good care of her.”

Madja exhales a steady breath, hands resting at her sides and way she regards you is nearly motherly; relief settling into her features when she can confidently say you’ll make it. “Then, I suppose you’re free to go.”

—

“Come on she said at least an hour.”

Azriel is a sturdy pillar before you, arms crossed and shadows incessantly tug at the thick duvet you’d been grasping at like your life depended on it since he barged in ten minutes ago. You grunt in disapproval, settling deeper into the mattress and you shield your eyes from the bright light steadily pouring through—even though you remembered closing the curtains last night.

“You’ve already skipped breakfast and lunch; it’s nearly three in the afternoon. Get up.”

Your inability to speak seems to work in your favor because all you offer Az in return is a hand peeking from the covers to flip him off.

A pause and one eye pries open when you hear footsteps retreating. Five minutes pass, then five more before you relax back into the fluffy pillows, dragging the covers up to your chin and a content smile curves at the corner of your mouth for a fraction of a second before your entire body is drenched in freezing cold water.

You lurch from the bed like a creature rising from the dead, feet bare and legs on full display when you slowly stare up at the pleased shadowsinger, eyes wide and arms frozen in surprise as you dripped all over the floor like a wet dog. “Good. Since you’re up and showered, let’s go downstairs and get you something to eat.” Azriel’s looping an arm in your own and leading you out before you even have time to change, sloshing footsteps left in your wake and when you enter the sitting room Mor has to slap a hand over her mouth to hide the laughter.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

It’s harmless teasing; friendly laughs and eyes lined with water when they mention the rats nest atop your head but Cassian’s boisterous laugh doesn’t join in on the fun. He takes one look at you and quietly leaves the room; he'd been doing that a lot since the accident—ever so present when you weren't consious and practically non-existent when you were.

You catch Feyre staring at the bruises on your neck, the thick bandage stuck in place on your temple, how stiff your posture was from the tight wrappings securing your ribs in place and she flushes when you offer her a tight-lipped smile, trying to appear more sturdy than you looked. "Sit, I'll get your food."

Eyes roll at Az's choice of words, easing over to the couch with a low grunt. Food was a sorry excuse for whatever the fuck you'd been sentenced to consume until the wires were removed. A thick porridge like substance with a distinct grit that lingered on your tongue no matter how much water you chased it with.

It was nice to be home though, to sleep in your own bed and being able to ease the tension with a hot bath and a stealthily stolen glass of wine—even if it was impossible to wash your hair or to change your clothes without assistance. Fresh air breezes through the windows, ruffling the curtains and the High Lord is quick to dry your clothes with a wave of his hand. With nothing more than a quick touch to his shoulder in thanks, the others watch you brace your weight against things to get to the hallway, turning left in the same direction Cass had gone earlier.

It’s not hard to find him, cooped up in his room with a glass of amber liquid in hand; eyes trained on the crackling fire. “What are you doing in here?” He’s up in a flash, wings pulled tight behind him and a broad shoulder urges your good arm around his neck, warm hands are careful when lifting you off your feet and carrying you over to the neatly made bed against the wall. Pillows are stacked behind your back to prop you up in a way that didn’t agitate your ribs and you give a sad smile when Cassian’s eyes linger on the bruises that were steadily healing up the length of your legs and he’s carefully covering them in blankets with a shaky breath.

Usually, he’d have sat next to you but now you’re unbearably aware of the distance he puts between you; hands clutched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out to touch. “You eat yet?” A slow shake of your head and Cass lets out a little chuckle in understanding. “Not surprised, that shit’s gross. Az never was that good in the kitchen.”

Everything smells like him; male and musk, cedarwood and bourbon. It’s overwhelming in the best way and years of memories begin to flood your senses; countless late nights spent in here drinking and laughing about nothing. Lazy mornings with breakfast in bed and amused snorts over buttered toast and tea when the Illyrian boasted about his latest conquest or earned accomplishments but then would go sheepish when you’d genuinely told him you were proud of him—happy that he seemed happy.

Cassian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to meet your eye because you were gazing at him so lovingly; not an ounce of hate in sight and guilt bubbles in his belly like curdled milk. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make you something.”

A few minutes pass of you examining the room before you notice there’s a bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and your brows furrow in worry. You’re grabbing it without second thought, shoving the bottle under the bed frame and out of sight before you hear the thudding footsteps coming down the hall and through the doorway. A goblet of a glass is clutched in one hand with a metal straw hanging over the rim; he rambles off some of the fruits he used while he walks over, gently settling it in your hands. Fingers graze and in the blink of an eye he’s already taken three steps worth of space between you but the berry smoothie is a significant upgrade from Azriel’s porridge mixture—little wins. This was sweet but not too sweet, thick enough to quell the rumbling in your stomach and thin enough to push through the gaps in the wires with ease. It’s half gone quicker than you care to admit but Cass seems pleased, yet the small smile he wears is quickly wiped off when you motion for him to sit next to you.

“I can’t.”

Brows scrunch together in silent question, head tilting to the side.

His face crumples, features lined with stress and it’s then you notice just how broken he appears—sure, maybe he didn’t have the bandages and wrappings but the damage was still there. “Look at you, peach,” Tears well at the pet name, your head lowering as if it could possibly hide the ugly bruising on your neck; it was the only spot that seemed to be taking forever to get better, a kaleidoscope of purples and deep blues. “Look what I’ve done to you,” Breath catches and you ache to comfort him when he doesn’t even bother to hold his wings off the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only moves closer when you set the cup down and make way to stand; it’s then he sits near you, urging you back down and you see the way his throat bobs with the thick swallow when your hand gently rests over his own. Words aren’t needed to express how much you didn’t blame him; not anymore—not after the nights he’d spent hunched over your bedside spewing out confessions of his feelings. The unconditional love that never stopping pouring over when it came to you and the shameful jealousy that had followed. Secrets he’d kept in fear that you didn’t return the same affections; terrified to ruin the carefully crafted friendship that took centuries to perfect. To become an extension of the other and adding his feelings seemed messy—too complicated and then all of this. You and the sounds of your cries for help permanently branded at the forefront of his mind for all eternity. Waiting in anticipation for Madja’s updates on your health, how you were fairing and if there was any lasting brain damage; a burden he was fully prepared to bare for you. Willing to sit by your side with his fingers kneeding through your hair to soothe away the headache he knew was coming in from the scrunch of your nose even after being pumped full of pain relievers.

It seems fitting that you can’t voice what you know; the pieces that you’d held onto while stuck in your mind. Body too numb to even pry your eyes open but the hope of hearing it while conscious was a strong enough anchor to have you clawing to the surface—back to Cass and those lazy mornings and tea with entirely too much honey.

He’s a mess when you pull him in closer, brushing your fingers through his hair the same way he’d done for you. You can feel the feather light kisses he presses to the exposed injuries, silent tears dripping on your skin, hushed whispers of his apologies, all the ways he’d planned to do in order make it up to you. All the things he should’ve and would’ve and could’ve done and you have to pry his face from the crease of your neck to make him look you in the eye.

There are no words but the intensity of your stare says plenty and he’s right back where he started; wanting things he shouldn’t and falling back into selfish habits. Leaning into the warmth of your mouth slotting over his own and every bruise and broken bone doesn’t even matter when he’s finally kissing you—soft and tender but all too quick and he’s pulling away before you can memorize the feel of him. “You’re perfect,” Cassian whispers, forehead pressed against your own, hands keeping you close. “I don’t deserve you for a second.”

But you only kiss him again because in that moment nothing else mattered.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: With the birth of your child looming, you and Aemond finally lay your cards on the table. A growing problem reaches a boiling point.

Warnings: more lying/manipulation (y’all know the drill by now), Aemond once again gaslighting, mentions of s*icide

A/N: it’s been such a fun time writing this. It is definitely different from most things I’ve written, so it have been a nice change. I’ve gotten so much support from it and I hope to keep making stuff you guys like. Also slight disclaimer that the way I write Alys is not really way I read her in the book. Much like Aemond in this. They both kind of suck lmao. I wanted this to be the last part but then I thought of more things so… we shall see how this goes 👍🏽. I wanted this chapter to be a build up to events in ep 8-10 mainly 9 and 10 of the show.

Fmo masterlist

You can’t remember the last time Aemond and you have had dinner, just the two of you. So, when he insisted you that you two do, you had a feeling it was about the talk Queen Alicent said she wanted to have with him. A private dinner with your husband would have been a dream moons ago.

Alicent did not make you privy to what they discussed. It only made you more weary. You know she is hurt and upset. But you also know she is more hurt that the son she propped up so much turned out to be just as unreliable as the man she made him with.

That is the painful part about love; the only place to go is down.

Nevertheless, his suffering is what you want; it does not matter if the ire stems from a place on genuine care for you. The uncomfortable nature in which he moves the castle makes the pain you have suffered a little bearable. It sounds deranged, but if you are to be trapped, he should be as well. You want him to wake with the same lump in his throat you do.

The letters had stopped. A constantly stream of communication abruptly ended. Lord Strong gave you a funny smile when he told you.

Ser Quinton rarely leaves your side when Aemond is around. He gave you a reluctant glance when you tell him about the dinner. While Aegon, already deep in his cups midday, tells you to keep a grip on your fervor.

The corridor was empty except for the two of you.

“I know how him and mother are,” he point his fingers at you emphatically. “They probably already concocted something to keep you quiet or make you look like the problem. Keep you…. Idle.”

Despite the slurring of his words, and clear bitterness towards the relationship Alicent and Aemond have, he may not be wrong. Alicent had already taken it upon herself to write to your father, suggesting he visits soon. She is proactive to a fault; her behavior simultaneously holding the Seven Kingdom together and enabling her family’s indecencies.

Everything can be hidden under the right tactics and false goodwill. You want to say she got that trait from her father, but you know it comes from years of being a woman in the Red Keep. From being the Queen.

The dinner begins uneventful. You wrinkle your nose at the meat pie in front of you. A dish you normally like making your stomach churn. It is hard not to feel sick or uncomfortable these days. You’re huge; feet swollen and belly protruding to a remarkable degree. The sheer thought of how big the babe will be plagues your mind most days.

It is unbearable having to engage in meaningless small talk with Aemond. Like he is insulting your intelligence by tip toeing around everything.

“Are you going to tell me why you wanted this dinner,” you want nothing more to leave his chambers and go take a bath.

“I think we need to talk.”

You can’t help but scoff at him. Aemond looks even more haunting in the dark lighting of room. Like the brutal knights the septas used to make you read about. He has a nasty look in his eye, like he wants a fight. You wonder if his Alys gets this look or if it just reserved for you. One special thing for his wife.

Despite all the formal swordsman training, Aemond plays dirty in personal affairs. Much like a feral cat backed into a corner. You’ve seen it to many times with Aegon. The only thing he responds to is equally cruel jabs.

“Yes dear husband,” you sigh out of boredom, rolling your neck.

His next words take you by surprise.

“Daella told me she is not excited about her egg hatching,” he huffs out. You stop rolling your neck, and blink blankly at him. The two of your stare at each other before you bark out a laugh.

“That is what this is about? You are pouting because a child is no longer enraptured by an egg.”

“It is not only about the egg, and you know it,” a nasty tone to match the look he gives you. “You fill her head with assumptions. You debase something that is her birthright. Something that is the birthright of her father, and her ancestors.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, if I disparaged the great Targaryen legacy or dragons in front of her it must have been a… mistake.”

You swear you see Aemond’s eye twitch a little at the word.

“Have you ever thought maybe it is not the dragons themselves, but the person she most associates them with?”

Daella’s change in behavior was notable. She never wanted to go to the dragon pit with her father, the few times she does work up the nerve to go it is always with her aunt to see Dreamfyre. She is no longer enthused to learn High Valyrian despite how quickly she picks it up.

You did try to keep your child out things, but kids are perceptive. The way from a young age Alicent kids picked on her strife with their father, maybe she picked up on yours with Aemond.

Aemond’s anger radiates off him. Once the truth finally comes out, the words begin to spill from your lips.

“And do not pretend this is just about Daella. That is an insult to her, and a waste of my time,” you lean forward, and lower your voice. “This about you losing your favor around here, and this about her.”

There is an uncomfortable hush comes over the room. The only sound is the crackling coming from the fireplace.

“She was pregnant,” it comes out like whisper. The spite that was laced through his voice is gone. All is left is confusion.

Your vision blurred red. There’s a painful twinge in your stomach, and you wince.

“What do mean was.”

There was always the possibility this could happen. As naive as it sounds, it was not a thought till ironically Aegon of all people brought it up. If anyone would know about possibly fathering bastards it would be him. Then he promptly told you that the two of you could hop on Sunfyre and burn her to a crisp. The offer that you quickly refused in the moment has never sounded so tempting now.

“I-I do not know where she is,” Aemond admits curtly. “One day she is telling me she is with child, and the next she’s…gone.”

He looks so small; his eye has a faraway look in it. It’s utterly pathetic. You never considered that a greater pain to him would be not only to be seen differently by his family, but also have to reason why he did it leave.

“So what now Aemond? She left you, and you want to just erase everything you have done. Pretend you care or love me,” you say coldly.

“No. I do not lo-“

He stops mid sentence, and an empty smile appears on your face. Neither of you have said it out loud but it is the plain truth.

“Go ahead and say it,” there is a deep pressure in your stomach that won’t go away. The pain only makes you even more upset. “Love requires respect. It requires give and take. You surely do not respect me, and all you ever do is take.”

Another twinge hits the underside of your belly. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, eyeing the door.

“You are not completely innocent in this,” your eyes go wide at his remark. “Do not give me that look. I see the way Ser Quinton looks at you. And now Alys is…”

He trails off. It is the first time you have heard him say her name out loud. Another surge of jealously runs through you. She is gone, and you are once again stuck with the carcass. Expected to uphold your end of the bargain while he frets over a child and mother that never should have been around to begin with.

You refuse to sit and let him turn the tables around on you. It is a struggle, but you manage to get up from the table, but only to have him rise and block your way.

“For someone who has such clear distain for my house. You sure do not hide your fire well… just like a dragon.” His eye flutter down to the scar on your arm, then back to your eyes. You see the blame in his.

“If I was that rash, or temperamental, your head would have been on a spike. Along with your whore’s,” you narrow your eyes. “And I would have made Ser Quinton sully his white cloak, because he would for me. Hells, I would have had your brother while I was at it. It’s not like he has not tried before.”

You are not sure you even want Ser Quinton in that way, let alone Aegon. Ser Quinton devotion is not something you know if you are willing to take that level. And Aegon’s cock has been in half the maidservants in the castle and most of the whores in Flea Bottom. Him wanting you is not special, it’s just Aegon being Aegon. But the deep look of rage in Aemond’s eye makes the statement all the more worth it.

You skirt past him quickly towards the door. His heavy footsteps behind you. Ser Quinton leaning against the wall opposite of the door does not surprise you.

“Are you alright,” he rushes over, concerned when you pause to in the hall and lean over in pain. His hand coming to rub your back.

“Oh well is this not sweet,” Aemond’s bitter tone cuts through the empty hall. “I can handle it from here Ser Quinton.”

Blood rushes to your ears, and you can barely hear the hushed disagreement that begins between the two. Your painful groans becoming background fader to their pissing match.

A familiar snap happens in the lower part of your abdomen, and a pool of liquid flows out of you. Both cease arguing, and you and Aemond share a knowing look.

“The babe is coming.”

Alaric Targaryen came into the world fast, and with a haughty disposition. As if he could tell the family dynamic he was coming into. His cries were piercing and sharp, matching the tears of relief you cried when he finally came out.

You had insisted to only have your lady in waiting and some septas in room, especially after the clear tension between Aemond and Quinton. Helaena and Alicent come in and out of the room sporadically, giving you words of encouragement and knowing glances at the pain you were in. Alicent had been shocked to see her son and Ser Quinton trying to get you back to chambers.

Lord Larys followed casually behind her. He gave that funny smile of his again. The smile he gives Queen Alicent when he thinks no one is watching… or maybe he hopes someone is watching.

She’s gone

Even while giving birth to your son, that woman plagued your thoughts. Aemond could be right; you two have more in common than you like. Bewitched by the same woman.

It took everything in you to look up when Aemond finally came into the room. Acknowledging his presence met remembering how he is half of Alaric. How so much of you belongs to Aemond. You live in his home, dress in his colors, your children will be in the history books as Targaryen’s. He will have ownership over your boy after calling him a mistake. No matter how much you try, you will be remembered as his wife.

If that fact did not make you sick enough. Alicent’s next words did the trick.

“Oh, he looks like how Aemond did when he was a babe.”

You look down at him in your arms. While Daella was a combination of Aemond and you, her brother is every bit of his father. Small tuff of straight blonde hair, lips town turned in a scowl. You did not know a babe could look so refined especially after just being born. The only resembles to yourself you see in his in his big glassy eyes looking up at you.

There’s an energy that gets sucked out you when Alicent hands him to Aemond. She sees the weary look on your face.

Opposed to the elation you felt after having Daella. Dread creeps in; dread that comes from a place of sadness and protectiveness. All you have is your children. Even with the bonds and alliances you may have made, only they are extensions of you. Daella, your sweet girl, a reminder of what could of been. You have Alaric, the flesh and blood reflection of what you have been through.

“Have you two thought of a name,” Alicent asks. Before Aemond, who is still looking down can answer, you beat him to it.

“Alaric. Ser Quinton told the sweetest story about a knight he admired as a child. I thought it would be fitting.”

Alicent’s brows raise but she does nothing but nod. “Handsome name for a handsome boy.”

Aemomd does not say anything about the name. He just quietly hums a melody when Alaric starts to fuss. He turns his back to you as he bounces him in his arms.

All you have is your children

All you have is your children

When you think about a sword to the throat. You don’t know which situation would be more satisfying. One to his or one to yours.

“I am sure you were… relieved to hear about your problem being gone.”

You do not see Lord Larys again till weeks after Alaric is born. The day of a feast Alicent insisted you have to celebrate his birth. Your father and mother writing you that they can not wait to see their second grandchild.

While Daella was a fussy, energetic baby, all Aleric does is sleep and eat. He stares at you with curious eyes. Always taking in the scene around him. He lays sweetly crib next to your bed. After his birth, you were all but forced to move back into the one you shared with Aemond.

“Do you know what happened to her,” it’s been on your mind for since Aemond uttered those words.

Larys tilts his head to the side with a wry look. “You and I both know it is hard to place the whims of a difficult woman, especially a supposed magical one.”

You know he is not just talking about Alys.

She is out there, possibly with Targaryen blood in her and no one knows where is. It does not make any sense. Larys can read the skepticism all over your face.

“It is quite suspicious, witch or not. A bastard woman with no means or worth to her name, gone in an instant. And right after the truth comes out within the family. Right after the Queen and the Prince talk.”

He gives you no help, only more questions. Makes you more suspicious of those you have to call family. In this moment you hate the way he speaks in riddles. He never states things plainly till he is ready to. As if he expects you to do something before he can reveal anymore.

“But look on the bright side princess, your family will be back at court soon enough.”

Alaric begins to coo, as if he trying to tell you something.

“Well, thank you for your time, Lord Larys,” you give him a fake smile. “I should start getting ready.”

Your lady in waiting, Jayne, comes in once Larys finally leaves.

“I quite like this one princess,” she holds up a green and black dress. It is old dress of Alicent’s, one she gave you when you first married Aemond.

A flash of satiny purple in the back of you wardrobe catches your eye. A smile appears on your face. It may be a bit snug as you have two children since wearing it but it worth the try.

“I think I might want to try something a bit different Jayne.”

Your father used to tell you that the strongest flowers grow even when there is little sun. In conjunction, your mother told you that flowers are meant to be admired. Prettiest ones will often be picked and disregarded when a new bloom happens. Wilting was never an option for you in their mind.

You are their lower. Planted, watered, and urged to grow. Even in the deep darkness that is King’s Landing. The darkness they said was critical to helping your house.

The looks you get when you walk into the Godswood, head high in your deep violet dress only spurs you on when in other times it would make you want to hide. Daella and Alaric both in darling lavender outfits. You three stand out against the various muted greens, blues, and greys amongst you. Except for the few specs of purple that you see on the side wooded area.

“My dear girl,” your father’s hug makes you want to cry. Seeing your parents put into perspective how young you feel… how young you are.

Already married, mother of two, and all you want is your parents to hug you and tell you everything will be ok. When your father pulls you to the side and asks you about the letter Queen Alicent sent him, you are surprised to hear what she put in it.

“She said you are having a hard time,” he runs his hand over your arm. “That it is affecting your marriage.”

It should not surprise you she failed to mention her son’s cheating. But the onus being placed on you only proves what you already felt. They will protect their own, so you must protect yours.

Before you can muster up an answer, an anxious looking maidservant comes over with Jayne in tow.

“My Lady, I am sorry to interrupt. I went back to grab Alaric’s sweater. I saw something you may want to see; it was left it your chambers.”

Your eyes go to a box Jayne is carrying.

You must hold back a scream when you open the box and see Alaric’s favorite blanket, the one always in his crib, soaked in blood.

You frantically look over to the opposite side of the garden, your mother happily holding Alaric, Daella by her side. You look over to catch Aemond and Alicent giving you a questioning looks from across the Godswood.

As your vision blurs, you notice box had a tripartite of pale blue, red, and green on it.

“Jayne, please go fetch me Lord Larys and Ser Quinton.”

All you have is your children

Tag list: ok I’m sooo sorry to anyone who does not get a tag. I swear I am not ignoring you. I am only allowed to do 50 which is so annoying bc I want to tag everyone that was kind enough to support and ask. Also sometimes tumblr won’t let me tag certain people idk. If y’all know a better way please let me know, so I can try it ❤️❤️.

@simp-is-what-i-am @rey26 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @crispmarshmallow @dc-marvel-girl96 @stargaryenx @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @neenieweenie @iwanttohitmyself @helloitsshitzulover @lazypinkpig @shisuchiha @leoramage @viperixsworld @luvremlu @this-is-a-bad-idea @landlockedmermaid77 @inpraizeof @blacpiink @carriellie @s0urmarvel @blackravena @bregarc @hvx @let-love-bleeds-red @fangirls94 @v7nt7 @m1ndbrand @highexpectationsgurl @m1tzifa1ry @spaceslutty @elleclairez @kitkat-writes-stuff @paprikaquinn @widemiffyhappy @poisonedsultana @what-is-your-wish @lilliansstuff @rebelfleur22 @aloneatpeace @alastorhazbin @alexa4040 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ensolleildelune @clora95 @yu3kkii @mischiefmanaged2 @its-sam-allgood @papery-maniac

[bibuckdiaz]

i wrote a little thing about eddie and hen and here it is. be warned, i am:

still on season six and only know about eddie’s current ~situation~ from twitter and tumblr

extremely unconcerned about canon compliance especially after tonight’s ep

a gay eddie truther

anyways. viola. eddie and hen get drunk and talk about the kim/marisol/buck situation.

***

Eddie already regrets going to Hen’s place.

On one hand, he knew she’d understand, at least to a degree. He didn’t know her when Eva was still around, but Buck had told him quietly one night when Eddie was lamenting how perfect her marriage seemed to be. It didn’t change how he saw her, and it honestly never really felt relevant, until now.

On the other hand, he knew she was going to slap sense into him when she found out what he did.

At least that part only took the first ten minutes, and then she got out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. The first shot burned, but it soothes some of the rattling, violent anxiety in his chest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he says for the umpteenth time, at least most of the way to properly drunk at Hen’s kitchen table.

“Well, here,” Hen says and holds her hands out like she’s pitching an invention on Shark Tank. “Do you love them?”

Eddie leans forward until his forehead thunks into the wooden table. “I don’t know,” he whispers.

“You’ve been in love before,” Hen says, like it’s fact, but when Eddie doesn’t respond, she leans in to peer at his side profile. “Right?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, not making eye contact. “Hen, I don’t know.”

Hen lets out a long breath and pours two more glasses— fuller than the rest have been, easily two shots worth. Eddie sits up and downs his in two swigs even though he knows he should probably cut himself off.

“Hen,” he says. His tongue feels slow and heavy in his mouth. “What does it feel like? Being in love?”

Hen is quiet for a long moment, blinking at the table. “Trust,” she says after a moment. “There’s nobody in the world I trust more than Karen.” The words hit Eddie’s ear with something like nostalgia. “I trust her with— With Denny.” She interrupts herself with a hiccup and a slurred giggle before twisting her face back into something resembling seriousness. “I trust her with my life. She makes me laugh, she makes me smile. She makes my insides feel… Like this.” She rests her hand on her stomach. “Bubbly.”

“Trust,” Eddie echoes, and thinks it over. Marisol, Kim— He doesn’t know if he trusts them, not with Chris. Not with the most perfect, important thing in his entire life. He probably doesn’t. He probably never will. “I…”

“Spit it out, Diaz.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, and Hen waves him off, waiting expectantly. “There’s really only one person in the world that I trust like that. I don’t know… Is that love?”

Hen leans forward and rests her chin on her crossed arms. “You tell me,” she says and blinks lazily. “Tell me how it feels.”

Eddie thinks for a long moment. His mind conjures images— Chris, nestled into a nook in the roof of a ladder truck, waves rushing around him; Chris, eating home cooked breakfast every single morning while Eddie was in the hospital after the shooting; Chris, staring down at a hospital bed, crying like he hasn’t since Shannon.

“Like home,” he says finally. “Like they fill a hole I didn’t know I had.”

Hen snorts and Eddie reaches over and shoves her.

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks a moment later. His head is swimming from the vodka, but his heart keeps beating the same rhythm, over, and over, and over. He thinks maybe it has been for the past five years.

“Only you can figure that out, Eddie,” Hen says softly and reaches out to grab his shoulder. “But if it helps, I think he loves you too.”

Eddie whips his head up, startled, but Hen has nothing but drunken compassion on her face.

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, but the things you’ve said about dating? How it feels like a performance, how you don’t mind being alone— The jumping around, the lack of commitment. It’s all the same stuff I thought was normal when I was still dating men,” Hen says.

Eddie’s head spins. “But I’m not— You didn’t like men. I’m not— Like you,” he says. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

Hen rubs her cheeks with her palms and then lets out a long breath. “Karen’s gonna be so mad at me,” she mutters, and then meets Eddie’s eyes, determination in her gaze. “Have you ever actually sat down and thought about being attracted to men? Have you tested it, experimented at all? What makes you so sure?”

Eddie feels his face go red almost immediately, and he knows Hen notices because she leans in and pokes him square in the cheek.

“In the army,” Eddie relents and looks away, staring out the window at the blustery trees outside so he doesn’t have to look at Hen. “It was easy. He was there, I was there, it was just— Just letting off steam.”

“But?”

“But,” Eddie echoes and glances back at Hen. It’s clear in her expression— honest from the vodka— that she just wants to listen, and to help. She doesn’t hold pity, she doesn’t see him as a clueless child. She knows how difficult this is. “He was hot, and kind. He made me laugh. I… I never considered it cheating, because it— It was normal, I thought.”

“So men don’t count, and neither do clones of your ex-wife?” Hen asks gently. “Where’s the line, Eddie?”

It feels like an accusation, even though he’s the one who drove here and bore his heart to Hen, every part of the last miserable few months pouring out of his mouth and onto her living room floor.

Her face softens. “Listen,” she says and reaches over, taking his hand in hers. “You don’t love them, and you do love someone else. Doesn’t that make it simple?”

Eddie fucking wishes it could be that easy.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “Chris deserves a family, a mother. I can’t— I can’t be selfish, not with this.”

Hen’s expression darkens. “Does Denny need a father?”

“What—“

“Was I selfish in choosing Karen, choosing my career, choosing to take in Denny, rather than live a traditional, white picket fence life?”

“Hen, no—“

“Are my wife and I not enough of a family for him?”

“Stop, stop,” Eddie says and clutches at her forearm so tight he sees her dark skin paling under his grip. “Stop. I get it.” He looks out the window again. A bird lands on the fence.

“Christopher already loves Buck.”

Eddie flinches when she says his name. It was this unspoken, nebulous thing hanging in the room between them up until now, but Hen saying his name makes it feel real. Panic starts to make a home in his chest.

“I need to go,” he says and tries to pull away, but Hen grabs him and gives him a stern look.

“You’re not driving anywhere, not for at least the next eight hours. I hope you thought this through and got someone to watch Christopher, because calling your abuela drunk might be a little humiliating.”

“He’s with Pepa,” Eddie whispers.

“Good. You’re staying here, and we’re talking this out. Don’t run, Eddie. Answer me. What do you want? No second thoughts, no overthinking, no holdbacks. First instinct. What do you want?” Hen asks.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes.

Hen stands, walks around the table, and pulls Eddie into a hard, warm hug. “I know, baby.”

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Idk who I saw it from but someone was talking about how Bakugou is one of those people who mates for life and being the sad bitch I am could not stop thinking of distressing headcanons….

After your breakup, he tries to give you space, he really does. He forces himself to delete paragraph after paragraph of texts telling you he’s still there when you change your mind. In a way, it’s funny. All you’d wanted was to feel like you were important to him when you were together, and now, after, all you want is for him to leave you be.

He finds you in every little part of his day. Where the excitement of getting to see you used to invade his thoughts at the end of his workday, he now feels that dread of going to the quiet apartment. Everything is just as you left it, except now your things don’t fill the empty space. He can’t bring himself to spread his clothes out to the drawers that used to be yours, can’t force himself to throw away the jar of pickles you’d left in the back corner of his fridge. He knows it’s silly, but part of him wants you to know you still have a home with him.

He doesn’t hate you, though he thinks it might be easier. In fact, having you gone just makes him realize he’s never going to love someone like that again. He’s not ashamed to admit it. He hates the way his friends look at him with barely veiled pity when he talks about how you might just need time and he’s willing to wait. If they’d ever felt the way he did with you, he knows they’d understand.

But they haven’t. And they don’t.

It’s been almost a year since your breakup when he sees the paparazzi photo of you in a magazine. It catches him by surprise as he’s getting coffee at the little cafe you showed him, hoodie pulled around his head to shield him from the cold.

It’s a grainy picture, but he’d know you anywhere. What he doesn’t expect to see is the arm wrapped around your waist or the way you’re laughing, despite the fact it’s a post-fight picture. It’s clear you had no idea it was snapped, he knows the difference between your posed appearance and your natural one like the back of his hand.

He knows the man holding you against his side is your new partner, as much as he tries to stay out of your work business, he can’t help occasionally misusing the privileges being the Number 2 hero gives him. He stares at the magazine cover for a while, until the baiting title no longer looks like words.

‘Has the Number 2’s ex found her new number 1?’

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, his mind blank, blinking at the picture as if that would make it shift. He wishes he would feel angry, or betrayed, but all he feels is that familiar ache start to consume him.

He doesn’t mean to get that drunk that night. He definitely doesn’t mean to walk to your new apartment. He never intended to knock on your door and wake you. But he does.

He knows he should shut up when you open the door, knows he should apologize profusely and just leave, but his heart and his brain aren’t on speaking terms it seems.

“I’m still here.” The words rush out before he can stop them, not nearly as slurred as they should be with how drunk he is. You blink sleepily at him, mouth opening to speak and he forces himself to continue.

“You left, but I’m still here. I’m still waiting. Still in love with you, and I’m going to wait the rest of my life for you.” He hates the way his throat tightens when he sees the hurt flash in your eyes, hates that he’s picking at an old wound, but you have to know he loves you. You have to know he’s yours.

“I can’t let you go. I can’t-“ his voice cracks and he has to take a second to clear it, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to collect himself. “I can’t love someone else. I miss you. I miss being loved by you. I just. I know you’re probably with someone new, but you’ve got my heart. And you need to know that,” he’s rambling now, losing the fight against his tears as he breaks, hanging his head. He opens his mouth again, having so much to say still, but nothing comes out.

He grinds his teeth as he looks down at his shoes, shame filling him that even after all this time, all this heartbreak, he still can’t just tell you how important you are to him. He watches a tear fall from his face down to the carpet between his shoes, watches it soak into the fabric as heavy silence settles into the space between you.

He’s sure this was a mistake now, sure he’s going to lose you forever all because he can’t get his fucking mouth to work.

He jumps when your hands cradle his face, soft fingertips brushing away tears as you step into his vision, your eyes reflecting the pain in his.

He breaks then, fully breaks, as you stretch to press a soft kiss to his cheek, and his large frame collapses against you. He clings to you as you walk him back into your apartment, struggling to close the door with him clinging to you so tightly.

“I’m still here,” he repeats through a choked sob, face pressed into your neck.

“I’m still here.”

[lonesome-greenery]

You know what fuck it.

I don't know enough voice actors to have voice claims for the Aurora Comic, but I do have a pretty well-developed imagined sound to each character's voice so let's go through them.

Part 1: The Floof Squad + Vash

Kendal: I've always imagined him as very soft spoken given the fact that the first person he ever spoke with was Alinua, and he had to be very calm and quiet to be able to interact with her properly. Also, he's always got the people of Vash's voices going in the back of his mind so he keeps his voice quiet to mitigate a bit of sensory overload. His tone is always level, but he's got a bit of a higher voice that cracks at times since he's getting used to being a person and using his voice.

Vash: Confident, loud, brassy. It's deeper than Kendal's, but they both speak with the same assuredness that makes people say Kendal almost sounds just like him. He thinks fast and often times it takes a minute for his words to catch up with those thoughts, so sometimes he slurs his words together to keep up with what's going on in his mind.

Alinua: I don't really know how to explain it, but her voice is sharp to me. Her 'r's are harsh, and she makes a point of pronouncing her 't's and 'd's distinctly. She sometimes pronounces things oddly because she's had to learn on her own. Alinua's voice takes up space and she's tried so hard to make sure that she's real and not just a branch of life without a will of her own. Her voice is the kind that you can't afford to forget because she has been so afraid of forgetting herself for so long.

Falst: His voice could only ever be described as bright. He has such presence when he's speaking that you wonder if he's mimicking someone he knew once to seem bigger than he actually is. His voice isn't slinky like some cat-themed characters are apt to be. It's boyish, gruff, and has a resonance to it. He is what he is, and he isn't trying to mask anything with his voice. Probably hits best as somewhere between Joshua Ilon and Jack de Sena's voices.

Erin: He says just about everything in one to three breaths because he's afraid of being interrupted, but he'll tell you that he's just passionate about the subject. He's loud, and he speaks with such arrogance that you're sure he's looking down on you, but his air runs out at the end of a sentence and he trials off before taking a breath and finishing the rest of it. Every emotion is exaggerated, not in mocking, but trying to get people to see, hear, and understand him. It's an act. This is the voice he uses around the floof squad and almost everyone else, but sometimes his voice will become quieter, slower, softer, and it will deepen a touch because he's getting proper airflow now.

Dainix: He's got some gravel to his voice and it's definitely deeper than most of our guys here. I tend to think that his throat is often raw from the fire energy that he holds and that makes talking hard sometimes and depending on how recently he's ignited, his voice may be raspy to a certain extent. Sometimes he's whispering because it hurts to talk, other times, he's speaking at a normal level, but very rarely does he raise his voice to a shout because he associates volume with his emotional state and why shouldn't he when he knows the fire to be loudest at its most dangerous.

Tess: She's loud and sure of herself and she is doing it on purpose. Her voice has that nice bit of vocal fry on the end that mimics the hiss of energy that comes with the lightning she keeps in her heart. She doesn't stutter like Erin does sometimes, though he remembers a time when she did, and she never wants to go back to a time when she has to. Sometimes she'll forget to tone down her speech and it'll come crashing in like a rumble of thunder. Her voice is deeper than Alinua's and she makes an effort to sound tougher as well. Her tone is usually pretty playful but sometimes it gets quiet and you know that as soon as it gets there, things will get loud very soon.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

i really do need more of joel experiencing boypussy, ily for being the whore that you are and expressing it in horny fic form. truly you are a poet of our generation and i thank you 😌

YIPPEE WAHOO YAY TYSM!!!!!! and I need more joel experiencing boypussy so im happy to provide :3

warning: humiliation/degradation, slurs, daddy kink, fauxcest

anatomical terms: cunt/snatch, (t-)dick

he’s bisexual because i said so and i think bc of that he doesn’t need a lot of explanation. he’s probably seen girldick in porn once or twice so he’s at least somewhat familiar w/ trans people. at MOST he’ll be curious and maybe like. a little out of touch

“so… you’re a tranny?”

“well… yeah, but… that word’s kinda like saying faggot. it’s a slur.”

“got it. my bad.”

he’s fascinated by t-dicks. def uses it to torment you.

“go ahead and jerk that tiny li’l dick you got there for me, boy. let’s take a look at you.”

being the southern gentleman he is, i imagine he’d wanna be gentle with women. with dudes he has less restraint. expect to be manhandled.

sometimes he’ll bark an order at you because he likes watching you obey, but most of the time if he wants you to move, he’s grabbing you.

which is very hot when he’s mixing your guts in missionary and he suddenly pulls out, flips you over, shoves your face into the mattress, and starts drilling you doggy style 😵‍💫

he doesn’t talk much or make a lot of noise during sex. he bites your neck/shoulders/nipples to keep himself quiet.

but if he DOES feel like talking???? oh my GOD it’s NASTY!!!!!!!

DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY KINK. i feel like he’d be more into it with dudes tbh??? calling you “boy”, “son”, “kid/kiddo”, “little guy”, “little man”, etc

that’s if you’re being nice. if you’re being a brat, “whore” is his name of choice for you. followed by “slut”, “bitch”, “queer”, “fag”, “pussyboy/cuntboy” and various other nefarious terms. and “tranny” now that he knows what that means >:3

if given the opportunity, he’ll always cum inside whichever hole he’s using. MASSIVE breeding kink, which can turn borderline incest-y in combination with his daddy kink. but it’s not real so who give a shit!!!

“good boy… such a-ngh… such a tight li’l cunt… your daddy’s gonna… your daddy’s gonna knock you up, boy… shoot a biiig fuckin’ load into ya… put a baby brother in this li’l fuckin’ snatch…”

joel miller is the patron saint of post-sex cuddles btw. he’ll check to make sure you’re okay, hold you up against his chest, and then he’s out like a light 😌

[imfinereallyy]

Steve Harrington isn't sure he's ever felt beautiful.

He is sure it would be a surprise to most.

However, Steve is overwhelmed with himself. And not in a good way. The constant feeling of the stretch of his skin, every lump, every scar. It's hard to breathe sometimes for Steve.

There is too much of him. Hair everywhere. Worried lips. Voice fluctuating.

Too many errors. Picked cuticles, bitten nails, and crooked noses.

Too many flaws. Loudmouth has nothing to show for it. Big money, but not enough to fix.

When Steve Harrington looks at himself, he doesn't see something he defines as beauty.

Sure he's been called many things across the board. Hot, sexy, and even the occasional handsome. That is typically reserved though for old women at Family Video and his mother's book club in 79' (a disaster of an idea considering it was mostly day drinking). And although Steve is called all these things and more, he hasn't really felt them. They are just more meaningless words he is supposed to nod his head along to. It's rude not to take a compliment, he can hear his mother's voice saying.

But Steve Harrington does not feel beautiful. He knows it's not a masculine word. He can almost hear the unspoken slur every time his father calls Steve a pretty boy, good for nothing but his looks.

(Steve doesn't think it's his father's insults that make him feel this way. He thinks that his comments might have to do more with his repressed bisexuality though. That's a talk for Robin for sure.)

Steve knows he shouldn't feel this way. Should be grateful for the compliments, the praise. It's rude, he knows. To be so ungracious. He can't just push them off, he can't argue.

He knows it isn't good, and isn't healthy to put this on other people. That he should work from the inside than out. Even so, Steve can't help but wonder if it's all his years being put inside a particular box that is the problem.

Who is he to argue with everyone else too? They always know better. The girls at school have told him what eye candy he is. His old buddies would tell him they wish they looked like him. Even the kids would mostly compliment him aesthetically. Talk about his way with women. Talk about how he's lucky he's got looks.

(He thinks he should be bothered more by the value of his looks than his intelligence, but that problem feels separate to Steve. He isn't really sure if he can explain it.)

Maybe that is the problem. People talk more about his looks than to him. Around him, through him, but not to him. Or maybe it's because Steve thinks they are just being kind, being pitiful. If Steve can't be smart, can't be creative, can't be talented all that is left is looks. People can't bullshit the other things, but they can all pretend he's a good-looking guy.

He is probably being dramatic if he's being honest. He can feel the sinking weight of the words selfish, self-centered, vain. It's like a horrible thrumming in his chest, every time he thinks too hard about it. Thankless and paranoid, Steve usually keeps quiet.

It's when Steve meets Robin Buckley, things start to change just a little bit. She's the first to come the closest to making him believe he can maybe be beautiful.

It's after a shift at Family Video. Robin and Steve are sitting on the hood of his BMW at the quarry. They're stargazing. Something that before Robin, Steve would have considered a waste of time.

He is so very glad he met Robin.

Steve has never really told anyone how he feels about himself. He doesn't think it would do him any good. He comes close though when suddenly Robin turns from looking at the sky, looks directly at his face, and says, "Sometimes, you remind me of the stars."

Steve startles and comes up with an eloquent "Huh?"

Robin giggles softly. "It's the moles. Reminds me of the constellations. I sometimes want to connect them, see if they match."

Steve just stares, unsure of what to say. Feels captured by her. Can feel that familial love between them grow even more.

Robin reaches out. Carefully, delicately, as if Steve might stop her. She brushes against the moles across his face and lightly connects them. "Pretty."

It's just one word, but for a moment Steve believes it's true. It's only a second, but he thinks he might remember this moment forever.

"Thanks Rob." He whispers, afraid to break the moment.

Rob pauses for a second before continuing the journey back and forth on his face. It's if she can tell how fragile he is when she whispers back "No problem Dingus."

He doesn't believe it for very long, but it at least makes him more grateful for Robin.

———

Steve Harrington isn't sure he's ever felt beautiful.

Well, until he meets Eddie Munson.

It's small at first. From the second Eddie meets Steve, it's almost as if he can read every single thought that comes across his mind.

And when they become friends, after Vecna, after it all, it's as if Eddie can see completely through Steve.

Eddie notices when Steve gets uncomfortable with backhanded compliments on his looks. When Steve tenses in the slightest towards what the kids, customers, or even Nance are saying (he remembers a distinct can't believe another woman hasn't been fooled by the Harrington looks yet, from her). And at first, Eddie seems to just catch on and change the subject. Shifts the attention to himself instead.

Steve's grateful.

But then Eddie starts to correct people. Shape the compliments better, more suited to Steve. There is a girl trying to flirt with him in Family Video once when Eddie is visiting. Steve isn't super receptive to it and even shrinks away a bit when the girl—Sadie he thinks her name is—looks him up and down and says "Sorry I'm taking so long, just I can't help if you're so distracting. You look so good today Steve,"

It doesn't feel good, even though he wants it to. But then there is Eddie cutting Sadie off by saying, "It's the smile isn't it?"

Eddie looks directly at Steve, chin in his hands as he leans across the counter. There is a slight uptilt to his lips while ignores Sadie's confused "Huh?"

"Can't look away when you see a smile that bright."

Steve doesn't think too badly about himself for the rest of the day.

After that something shifts in Eddie too. The verbal comments don't become fewer, but the looks do become more frequent. It's these absolutely intoxicating looks, that shake Steve to his core.

Eddie's eyes trail him, whisper to him, fucking follow his every movement.

There is this one time when Steve throws his head back and laughs harder than has in his life when Robin trips into Nancy's lap. He is sure it really isn't that funny, and he knows he looks awful with the snorting and tears running down his face. But Eddie, Eddie's eyes just follow the line of Steve's neck, connect all of his moles with his gaze, and just beams at Steve.

For a moment, Steve feels gorgeous.

———

Even with these little things, Steve Harrington doesn't feel beautiful.

After everything with Vecna, what little he liked about himself is quite literally torn apart. The stares are mixed now. Some admire him, some look upon him in horror. He can't decide which feels worse. They both make him feel so distinctly other. Something to look at, something to hang on the wall and contemplate.

And moments like these ones, sitting in his backyard in broad daylight, in 90-degree weather for a pool party the kids begged him to have, he can't help but cover himself up. Hide away.

Eddie sits next to him in the lounge chair on his right with a distinct plop, shaking Steve from his spiral momentarily.

"You doing alright there big boy?" Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Yea. I'm good man." Steve tries to shake off.

"Really? Cause like I know you and Rambo—" Eddie points at Nancy "—don't exactly go in the water anymore, but the least you can do is take your shirt off. It's hotter than Satan's ass out here, and that's a lot coming from me. Considering my reputation with knowing him personally and all."

Steve looks out at the backyard, at the kids in the water, at Robin trying hopelessly not to stare at Nancy, and he contemplates for a moment. He could lie to Eddie, but that didn't feel right. They had grown too close for that. He could tell him to shove off, and Steve knows that Eddie would, no questions asked. It doesn't feel right either. Because for once, Steve wants. Steve aches. So he turns to Eddie slowly and says "I don't want them to stare."

Steve doesn't specify who. He doesn't think he needs to. It's not really anyone really. Or maybe it's everyone.

Instead of telling him they won't stare, or he has nothing to be ashamed or that he's a hot piece of ass, Eddie says "Why don't you want them to?"

Steve feels like he's been hit by a truck.

He takes a sharp breath "I—I just feel—" He tilts his head back trying to hold back tears before looking at Eddie again "—It just makes me feel like a thing. Like something to observe. The scars, they are just awful. And I know yours are the same but it's just different. It fits you, not me. I'm not sure anything fits me really. And—and even if it's not the scars they stare cause they think I like it, like it's a compliment. But I don't believe it. It's not true. It never has been, even before the Upside Down. I'm just Steve. I'm just here and..." he trails off. Steve doesn't even think he is making any sense in the slightest. But then he sees Eddie's face through the tears, so serious and kind, and Steve sees that Eddie just gets it.

Without hesitation, Eddie stands up and grabs Steve's wrist lightly, and drags him up. "C'mon" is all he says before taking Steve inside.

Steve expects a speech, Eddie is famous for them, but instead all he does is pull him into the kitchen. "Let's make the kids lunch, yeah?"

So they do. For the next five minutes, they work in comfortable silence, preparing sandwiches. Steve's shoulder's relax, the tension begins to leave his body. He can feel Eddie's warmth at his side. Can hear Eddie start to hum the tune of "Everybody wants to Rule the World" next to him, even though Steve is certain Eddie hates Tears for Fears. And because Steve knows it's for him he can't help the smile that blooms across his face, dimples and all.

Suddenly, Eddie stops humming and takes Steve's face into his hands, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Steve's smile, albeit softer now, remains on his face when he asks, "What?"

Eddie leans in, a whisper away from his lips, and replies "Beautiful."

He then kisses Steve in the only way that can be described as devoted affection. It's warm and true. It's like coming home.

And Steve Harrington for the first time feels beautiful.

———

When time moves on, and Steve has bad days, where he feels like he's rotting from the inside out, he remembers this moment. He remembers when his boyfriend saw him covered in sweat, tears, and mayo, and can't help but kiss him for the first anyway.

He remembers Eddie can't see anything beyond Steve's smile and think that he was anything but beautiful.

———

Do I develop Steve's character more than necessary? yes. Will it ever stop me? no. Sorry I love a good character study. I need to do one for Eddie next.

Not much to say here except, like steve says this might not make a whole lot of sense, but it felt good to get out. Sometimes it's okay to want to be called pretty. It's not shallow or vain. It's good for the soul. Hope the pacing was okay. Llet me know what to write next <3

[dreaming-of-lu]

I just found out the my voice irl sounds exactly the same as it does in recordings and that hit me really hard because singing is a huge part of my life. but i sound like a four year old who just lost their front teeth on recordings. Not to mention i have a tendency to slur my s’s. I saw you are open for emergency requests and it is totally ok with me if you say no but if you were to do the chain with a reader who is insecure abt their voice? Romantic if possible. Again, don’t feel pressured to do it, just if you can. I could really use the comfort

I understand that feeling too. The embarrassment over sounding like a kid, the stumbling and slurring of certain words. If anyone makes fun of you for it, I'll fight em 😤 hope you don't mind hcs.

First

Understands your insecurity, never once ever questioning it

He never forces you to speak on days you don't feel like talking, just offering silence if you want it, and cuddling underneath his scarf.

Speaks for you when you sign/write something for him to say.

He fondly listens to the days you do speak, never pointing out the stumbling and slurring. He doesn't care, he loves listening to your voice.

If you end up laughing off the stumble, he'll chuckle alongside you at the sound of your sweet laughter.

Sky

Sweet sky child never judges.

Will have a supporting hand on your back or holding your hand when you speak, giving you silent support.

Will give someone that gave you a hard time a stern talk with a disappointed look on his face. It's like being lectured by your parents but way worse, it's the quiet kid who's ripping another hole into you.

Gives free cuddles on the days you do not feel great, just has you underneath his sailcloth, humming softly while rubbing his hand across your back.

Helping you slow down when you stumble or slur; he's patient and has that sleepy loving smile that warms you all the way down.

Four

Though there are times when he wants to hear your voice since the quiet does nerve him. He doesn't force you to, he'll fill the silence instead with his rambling or on the days when he'll just swing your entwined hands together without a word.

The days you do speak or sing, he cherishes them.

He gets a bit downtrodden when your voice disappears after a customer comes in and silently wishes in his head for them to hurry up.

Has def laughed under his breath a bit when you told off a customer but draws the line when they dare mock you. Def has thrown that mallet without a thought. (That was Blue's doing)

You're his s/o, he's not going to tolerate such buffoonery. They can make fun of him all they want but they're not going to make fun of you.

Time

Will shut down anyone that dares to comment on your slurring or stumbling with a glare.

Is very patient too. He never makes you feel like an inconvenience.

Knows sign language and is willing to help you learn it if you wish, just to have communication during the days you don't want to speak.

Hums with you whenever you sing a lil tune underneath your breath, melting like butter whenever you do.

He presses lil' kisses against your neck when laying down for the night, humming into your skin with a big goofy grin, listening to you giggle at the tickling sensations.

Legend

Probably had busted someone's nose before when they dare to make fun of your stumbling.

"You're going to have stupid people unfortunately thinking it's okay to be an ass and make you feel like shit. It's alright to stumble every once in a while, even I tend to slur over my words a bit. You'll get through it."

Your sarcastic cheerleader. Right here!

He doesn't care if you have an outstanding voice or not, let him hear those cute giggles and that sweet voice.

He'll let you whisper into his ear or sing softly to him during downtime. No, this is HIS downtime and his s/o, go find your own, he's not sharing.

Twilight

I bet he even has times where he'll stumble to sound "normal" to fit in with the crowd. His country accent comes in strong no matter what he does. Just learned to give up and accept this losing battle.

He knows what it feels like to be insecure over the sound of your voice, some people do tend to comment on his. Though you have your own struggles and so does he.

Even in Wolfie's form when others made fun of his attempt to sing, he didn't care and always howled with you when you sing. Loving the bright smile that sat on your lips.

"It's alright when you stumble darlin'."

Patient for days thanks to herding goats even when you fess up, he places a silent hand on your back or on your hand to calm the nerves down.

Hyrule

Baby bean even stumbles over his words A LOT.

He lets you go at your own pace when you do speak, offering comfort if the day feels like shit and you want a hug with kisses.

He'll say "You may not like it right now or later on but you'll come around to it, and you'll learn to understand that not everybody is going to be the same or perfect. We're all different, no matter what others say."

When you slur your words, he's not going to interrupt you mid-sentence, no, cause that's rude and he's been raised right by his mother.

Swings you around in a lil dance as you both hum, tripping over your own feet while laughing joyfully with him.

Warriors

Protective? Protective.

Offers you to cuddle with him under his scarf too.

Another one who signs with you

Hearing your voice makes his heart pound, his ears flap wildly, his hands sweaty, and it makes him feel like a teenage boy all over again to ask for your hand in courtship.

Loves the little confused look on your face when you end up stumbling and laughing it off. He knows it'll take a while for you to grow used to it and that's okay.

Wild

There are days when Wild doesn't wanna talk either. His throat gets raw, and his voice tends to croak after talking for too long because of the scar on his neck.

He even gets insecure when he has to talk and people stare at him like he's some sort of weird two-headed frog abomination.

You both sign to each other when those days are rough, you let the others do the talking for you or rather hand over the list to the person behind the stall in hopes they'll understand. (They do)

Learned to ignore those who have an issue with it since it's obvious they're ignorant and think the world revolves around only them.

Brews soothing tea for both your throats due to not using them often. Gives you that infamous goofy grin when you thank him.

[final-girl96]

STOLEN HEARTS CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Eddie

What was wrong with him? He keeps fucking up. He didn't remember much from the last time he saw her; not until Billy showed up and about beat his ass. When Billy start to tell him what happened, everything he had said to her came rushing back like a fucking tsunami. The water receded Leaving nothing but wet sand behind before it came rushing back with a vengeance. It slammed into him, knocking him and his memories back to that night. The harsh word he said to her; tell her he slept with Stacy. The look on her face had knocked the wind out of him.

It didn't really happen. Well, it did, the part about him sleeping with Stacy was a lie. The part about her coming to see him and telling him that yn wasn't compatible with him and that she would only bring him down, that was all true. She also tried to sleep with him but he didn't let it happen. He had pushed her away, several times. She was at the bar that night too, when yn showed up. She didn't appear until after yn left. He remembered Billy giving him a death stare, which he still can't understand why he cares so much. But he left right after that and then Stacy came out of the shadows with a huge grin on her face.

He had let her drive him home after that night in his van. He doesn't remember too much. Just that when he woke up, she was standing in his kitchen…his and yn kitchen, wearing one of his shirts and only his shirt. He couldn't remember for the life of him if he had fucked her or not. He had forced her out of the house though. Made her get changed and called a can for her. He didn’t want her there. Then he did what he does best, he drank and got high to numb the pain and emptiness he felt. The house was quiet and he hated that.

There wasn't any music playing or TV playing. He couldn't even be in the studio downstairs because yn wasn't there, sitting on the couch curled up with a book. He just decided to drown his sorrows. He laid in bed all day until someone rang the doorbell and pounded on the door nonstop until he answered it. When he dragged himself out of bed and almost fell down the stairs and tripped over the rug in the entryway by the door, he was confused to see Billy Fucking Hargrove standing on his doorstep.

“What the fuck do you want? I'm not signing any autographs, Hargrove, so you're shit outta luck,” he said, slurring some of the words. His eyes were droopy and most definitely bloodshot. “Jesus fucking christ, no wonder she left your ass. Look at you! What the fuck is wrong with you giving up a girl like yn?” Eddie scuffed and walked back into the house not giving a shit if Billy followed or not. “I don't know what you mean, man. Me and yn are just fine. She's not here right now though. Actually, I don't know where she is. Think she might have stayed at her dad's or something.”

A hand slapped down on his bare shoulder, gripping the bare skin hard and spun him around. “No shit she ain't here. You fucking told her you fucked another bitch! What you think she's gonna just get over that?” Eddie's head was hurting, he didn't know what Billy was going on about. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He pushed the man off of him. “You told her you fucked Stacy and that she was a better fuck than yn. Remember? Last night at The Hideout.”

The more Billy talked the more sober Eddie got. He fucked up again and this time he probably wouldn't get her back. That's why he had decided he would give it sometime. Give her some time. He planned to keep himself sober that whole week, to prove to her he could get better, but the pain from the loss of her presence was too much and the only way he knew how to numb that pain was by getting high or drunk.

He told himself that he would numb the pain just a little bit before heading to her dad's where he knew she would be. He would numb the pain, wait a few hours and let himself come down so he was good enough to drive and be able to speak without sounding like a fool. But when He walked out the front door to go to his van, Stacy was standing there. “Eddie! Oh, Eddie!” She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He heard her sniffle as she tightened her hold on him. “Why are you here?” He asked carefully, arms at his sides.

“It's just awful, Eddie. I got into this huge fight with my dad. He doesn't like that I'm in love with you. I told him I didn't care and that I was going to be with you whether he likes it or not. Then he kicked me out! Threw my clothes out into the front yard! I didn't know where else to go!” Eddie pushed her away. She looked at him with glossy eyes. “In love with me? What the fuck?! Bitch, I don't want you!” Her eyes grew wide in shock but only for a few seconds before they darkened into anger. “What, you still love that little bitch?! She's not meant for you Eddie! She's holding you back! She wants to control you!”

“You don't know shit! Here is what is going to happen; I am going over to yn's, talk to her, and win her back, and then… then I am going to take you to the airport, put you on a fuckin plane, and you are going to get the fuck out of my fucking life for good. I never want to see or hear from you ever again. You come anywhere near me or my girlfriend ever again you will regret it. Now get into he fucking van!”

He should have taken her to the airport first. He shouldn't have gone over to yn's with her still in the van. That was fucking stupid. But he was still too high to fucking think straight. It didn't help that when Billy was the one to open the door. His intoxicated mind went straight to conjuring up pictures of Billy bending his girl over a counter and fucking her. Even worse he pictured her screaming Billy name instead of his own. Furry seeped into his veins and he started to see red.

That all quickly vanished after yn saw Stacy sitting in the van. Eddie once again fucked up and he knew it. He was good at that; fucking up. Especially when it came to the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He didn't expect that she would try and beat the life out of the girl though. He just stood back and watched as Billy wrapped his arms around her waist, the waist he always held onto when he kissed her or fucked her until she could string a coherent sentence together. The waist that only his arms should be wrapped around.

Stacy deserved what she got though. She was dumb enough to open her mouth. He felt fucking sick when she called him baby. It didn't settle well with him. “You might want to get you're little fuck toy out of her, Munson. Get your shit together while you're at it.” He watched Billy walk back into the house with yn over shoulder. She was screaming at him the whole time. “I fucking hate you!”

Those words stuck in his mind the whole way to the airport. “Can you believe her? She's fucking cra…” I didn't know what I was doing until I did it. Stacy stopped talking and gasped when the back of my hand connected with his cheek. I was stopped out front of the airport, nobody was around, and turned to her. “You ever fucking contact me again I will make sure your life is more of a living hell than it already is. Get the fuck out of my van and get as far away from me as possible.” She had tears in her eyes hand pressed against her cheek.

“Now!” She flinched, grabbed her bag,and opened the door. “Oh, and don't bother trying to press charges. It won't work.” I leaned across the passenger, pulled the door shut, and left her in my rearview mirror. It was time to get my shit straightened out, lay some rules down with the band, make a new fucking album, and win my girl back before I lose her to Billy Fucking Hargrove.

[lolitastrn]

puppy!reader

a/n : these are just my interpretations of !reader types that i cannot take credit for. i’ve been heavily inspired by multiple writers on this app, including princessbrunette, loveebot, starfxkr and donatellawritings. if any of these lovely writers (or others) see this and feel it’s a little too similar to their version of the !readers, i have no problem in taking it down.

* not my pictures - all found from pinterest

about her :

so, so clumsy; always getting into some sort of mess. most likely has adhd, causing her to talk until her bf shuts her up. head pats and kisses on the nose needed at all times. looooves getting attention from bf. random bursts of energy. oral fixation - needing to bite down or chew on something. always carries a walkman and somehow knows how to make mixtapes. ‘brown eyed girl’ by van morrison. can and will fall asleep anywhere, as long as her man’s nearby. fluffy socks and leg warmers. big chunky sneakers. minor coffee addiction. earmuffs no matter the weather. knitted sweaters and mini skirts.

with matt :

matt definitely calls her things like ‘bub(s)’ ‘bubba’ and ‘bubble’ and she absolutely eats it up. if she’s ever feeling overstimulated, he has no problem in giving her all the head (pats) and cuddles she needs to calm down again. she absolutely loves being on top - getting all her energy out bouncing on matt. sometimes she rambles too much about her day or anything she feels strongly about, which matt’s fine with, but when it gets to the point of her talking so fast her words slur together, he knows it’s time she stops - often resorting to kissing her to make her be quiet. it’s not that he doesn’t like her talking, he loves it actually, he just doesn’t want her passing out due to lack of breath. sometimes, when the triplets are out filming late, she can’t fall asleep; needing to feel him near you. when he is around, she’ll either be sleeping on him or getting her energy out somehow. she can often be spotted in the background of their vlogs, mindlessly following matt around. when she’s struggling to fall asleep, matt always takes you for a late night drive, letting her fall asleep in the car. he always makes her feel loved, giving her all the time and attention you need, she’s never afraid of showing how much she loves him either.

with chris :

both of them constantly bounce off each others energy, wreaking havoc to those around them. it’s mainly the pda that gets on people nerves - the two of them really don’t hold back. this doesn’t stop when the two are alone, it actually increases. chris does prefer to be on top, doggy style being his favourite position to fuck her in (for obvious reasons). but he does occasionally let her be on top, loving her yelps each time she slams down on him. sometimes chris does get a little tired out, which tells her that she should calm down a little too. it helps that he has some sense of control over her - she’ll do just about anything he tells her. he calls her things like ‘monkey’ and ‘bug’. she dresses in his clothes so much he forgets she actually owns clothes of her own.

a/n 2 : puppy!reader is probably best paired with matt, only because i feel he would help calm her more when she gets an outburst of energy. with chris she would definitely be more energetic and annoying to those around her (besides chris of course). so with matt she’s more mellow, whilst still being herself.

[imnotyopapi]

synopsis: a dinner date with the friend that you totally don’t have any feelings for going relatively unexpected.

fem reader - het romance

a bit nsfw

we’re nothing, we’re just friends, there’s nothing more than that and anything that were to be more than that is purely imagination, right?

fuck. yeah. i’m right.

he’s just the boy who parades my mind in the hours of the night i’m not thinking all too clearly, or the one i’m off with the daisy’s thinking about when work’s quiet, or the one where -

i don’t want him.

he’s invited me out to dinner and drinks tonight, it’ll be nice to wind down for once, it’s been a full on week with everything i’ve had going on. i’ll wear this gorgeous blue dress i got a while back, it should get some attention from him, i don’t want anything with him nor is anything to happen, i just like the thought of him gazing with those eyes. those fucking eyes. i’m getting distracted.

‘here comes the airplane’ and a piece of sushi between two chopsticks coming rapidly towards my face. fuck, he’s an idiot. but, i mean, he makes me laugh i guess? 3 bottles of wine down and shit, i guess we’re getting some more.

he starts talking, i don’t really know what about? he’s just saying a bunch of words i don’t quite understand, but i smile and nod anyways, it’s still interesting to me, and hell, i kind of want to keep hearing his voice.

i don’t know if it’s the alcohol in my system or if he looks both like a serial killer, and kind of fucking hot right now.

if i have to force myself to look somewhere else because i caught myself staring at him one more time, i’m going to lose my shit.

*A-Punk by Vampire Weekend starts playing in the background*

jesus christ! one hand, he lifts my chin up with his finger to make me look him in his eye, and the other, wrapped around my wrist, he’s pulling me up. ‘come dance, don’t be a bummer!’ he slurs. fuck it.

i have no clue how much time has passed, it feels like it’s frozen, and i want it to stay that way. he has no idea how to dance and i fucking love it. he spins me out, i reach my arm out, tilting back, and he spins me back in, and as i come in, his hand comes around my lower back and causes our hips to rub together. ‘bold.’, i say. i can’t really mutter much more than that because if there’s one thing this man can do, it’s catching me off guard. staring at my lips, i think he’s uncovered the anxiousness that was obvious by me biting them. ‘bold..’ he says to himself, and then i see him mouth ‘fuck it.’

he pins me up against a wall, one hand over my head, ‘you think that was bold?’, he leans in, with a dead expression in his eyes, i stutter, but i can’t get any words out. how does he reply to that? a smirk, a fucking smirk. this fucking man-

my hand pushes further against the wall mimicking the way he pushes his lips against mine, he pulls away by a matter of millimeters, his bottom lip dragging against mine, just for him to go in again.

i haven’t fucking ever been in this situation before, what the fuck do i do?

i slip a bit of tongue, and the tip of his tongue meets the end of mine, he pulls away to bite my lip, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth for a split moment, before we start making out again.

after what feels like a whole 10 minutes have passed, he finally leans back, i feel an exhale as he comes away, and both of us are completely out of breath.

i don’t want him.

oh, fuck it.

i pull him in by his belt and mimic every last fucking movement he did to me, the lipbite, the brush, every last fucking thing.

once i’ve backed off after another, what, probably 10 minutes he looks at me again with those dead fucking eyes.

he leans in towards my ear, and after a light nibble he whispers ‘that’s it?’ and he stands back for a moment.

‘give me a chance, anything you could want, or anything you fucking crave, it’s yours.’ he exclaims, loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear, but i don’t think he cares?

he looks at you with that fucking smirk again.

i don’t want him, there’s nothing between us.

yeah, there’s nothing. totally. we’re just friends.

i fucking hate this guy. let’s go.

[sundaynightslive]

rut/heat hcs for the Sins?

Y'all work me to THE BONE.

With Siran being Lust, he can delay his rut for a long time

He controls everything in the realm of lust, and sometimes that just means the lack thereof

And when I say delay, I don't mean for a few months, I mean at LEAST by a decade. So I'd say he gets it every 13-23 years (if he doesn't delay it, every 3 years)

His rut is the last thing he wants to worry about, but he truly forgets that when it hits, it hits HARD because he delayed it for so long.

Whenever he feels all pent up, either one of the Sins/Courtiers takes up the task to deal with him (horny bastards) or he just shapeshifts into a different form and heads to a few red-light districts around hell

Usually he goes for a more ethical approach and just goes to parties to find people to fuck with but when he's that horny and he knows he's gonna be banging someone for a while? The least he can do is find someone who's more prepared for his nonsense

And I'm very serious when I say that when he's not going to be talking to anyone except the people he'd be fucking...

Let's say you're one of the people at those parties he goes to (because I don't fw red-light districts generally)

You wouldn't even suspect that he might be someone he's not. Even if you did, that's the least of your worries. You're getting off either way, so why does that matter?

If he hits on you, you wouldn't even be able to tell that he's frantically just trying to get off, unless you look down at his raging hard on pressed against his thigh. Desperate being so desperate, he still has a way with his words.

If you hit on him first, it takes every bone in his body to stop him from whisking you away in that very moment. The only thing stopping him is that he remembers that he actually has to get you ready, so he does take a little bit more time to focus on you before his mind goes right about to thinking about which positions he's going to fuck you in

He insists on either finding an empty room (if this is a house party) or going back to his house (not his actual house...just the house he used to fuck around in yk) because just finding a quiet place will not service you at all. You wanna have everyone hear you hootin and hollerin? Maybe, but he can't draw too much attention to himself

Plus, if you go to his place, he already has everything set up so you don't really have to leave him unless you have to use anything in the bathroom

Now that I'm really thinking about it, he probably has a couple of places.

He already has unlimited stamina when it comes to sex and he takes that to his full advantage. He's fucking you till you're body goes completely numb. And when you snap out of it, he'll do it all over again

His rut lasts about 3-4 weeks. It's excessive, but what did you expect?

Unlike some of the Sins, he's a bit playful and giggly during his rut, at least nearing the end. Only then will he actually start talking. Even then, his words are slurred and quiet so you can barely hear what he's saying over the noises surrounding the both of you.

By the end of it, he wants you up and out asap. He won't make it seem like he's rushing you to get out, but he won't give you any reasons to stay any longer. He knows he's been out of work for a long while (you know it's bad when Kam won't even talk to him) so he needs to leave at some point that day as well.

Notice how I said he gets right back to work after? His energy did not deplete once during that whole thing. He's one of the only Sins that can get away with that shit

Raivath is a butterfly. They don't do that, but he's a hybrid so he has to suck it up and deal with it. He gets it every 30 years.

Which isn't often at all so he never really has to deal with it anyway

But just like Siran's, since it doesn't come often, it hits like a ford F-150

Adrienne always offers to deal with it and he always refuses. The last thing he would want is another work related relationship and I don't think his moral code would allow that anymore

Raivath doesn't fuck around to begin with and even though his mind is clouded, he's stubborn ass still won't fuck around.

Do you know how strong his right hand is by this point? Probably too strong. At least his voluntary celibacy is keeping him fit

But seriously, he'd lock himself in his office and try to ignore it to at least try and get some work done. It doesn't take him too long to realize that the boner he's stuck with is actually going to start working against him if he doesn't handle it

So he does, in hopes that it'll die down for a little while so he can get something done. Of course that doesn't work, but he's getting off and really that becomes all he cares about.

No one cares that he's dealing with his heat. They'll still come knocking on his door to ask him questions. Some people (like Nash and Aqui) taught him that he should really get multiple locks and barricade the door before getting to business.

Usually people just forget. They knock and when they hear his shaky voice followed by a quiet moan, they just go "oh my bad" and leave him alone.

It doesn't seem like something you forget about but he rarely ever leaves his room or his office unless he needs to get food so it just seemed like he was going through his normal schedule.

His rut lasts 2-3.5 weeks. Or so he thinks. Because after that time, he practically goes into hibernation for like a week. He finishes (pause) with his hands weak, his body aching and shaking, and his balls empty. Who wouldn't want to sleep after that?

Kazye gets his rut way more often than he would like.

To his dismay, his heat comes triyearly; once every 3 years.

He's so stubborn, he's more than willing to deal with his hard on and still go about his day. The only reason why he can't is because he bitches and whines more than usual and no one wants to deal with that. Plus, the other Sins can smell it on him if they get too close and they find it to be really distracting.

I won't say that Joule hasn't helped him with it but I also won't say that she has; take that as you will.

I would say that he does go out and find someone to fuck with or even just ask someone else at Hireath but let's remember he's the Sin of Sloth, he doesn't care enough to get up off his ass and take care of it. I feel like he's somehow grown some tolerance to it so he can ignore it better than the others. He can ignore it enough to at least get a bit of work done, but then he'd still have to take breaks to release

Honestly, if he has nothing better to do, he can just sleep it off. It's only 2-3 weeks

By the end of it, he just feels a bit more tired than usual.

Anasuya becomes extremely emotional during her rut

It's hard to tell what she's emotional about until you ask her, it could really be anything. She often gets dramatic moments even when she's not in her rut so no one would suspect anything until she blurts out how badly she wants to be fucked

Only wears dark skirts for the time being because she has the biggest fear that someone will be able to see how wet she is (which wouldn't normally happen but she's paranoid as fuck)

Speaking of which, she still goes out and about during her rut, even though she wants to stay inside and complain about how horrible her life is

I mean, she's a fashion designer. She has to go get her materials, and life stops for no one. Of course she could send Laura out but she's a firm believer in "if you want something done well, do it yourself."

She still takes Laura out to shop with her because she wants to eventually let her go on her own (not because she doesn't want to go, but because she's becoming busier by the day)

The only reason I'm mentioning this is because she has shit to do and she's scared that people can just smell the heat on her. She puts on more perfume than usual to try and cover the scent

At some point, the scent enters the room before her and it just becomes suspicious

But still, even in public, she becomes more snappy and rude to replace the fact that she can't just cry all the time

Unlike Kazye, Anasuya does fuck around, but she just doesn't during her rut

Which sounds really strange because that sounds like the prime time for fucking around, but she's just too emotional it would just be really weird. No one wants to deal with her tears

Her heat lasts 2-3 weeks every 7 years. After it's done, she just goes right back to normal. No break time, who has time for that?

(It feels so weird to rewrite her)

Aibreanne, w/o Alexi, would absolutely be losing her mind during her rut

She's one of the Sins that doesn't really get to take a break. Plus she's Wrath? Don't even get near her

She gives people valid reasons to be scared of her and then gets mad when they're scared like babes. Go get some dick and chill the fuck out

I won't say who she'd go for (or who would volunteer) during her rut

Or maybe I will. Siran, Nash, Duke, and technically since it's a favor, Atlas are all up for grabs.

And it's not really an option it has to be one of them. If she doesn't calm the fuck down and gets her shit together, Hireath isn't really gonna function for those 1-4 weeks.

1-4 weeks sounds insane, and it is, but it's also because she recently became a hybrid so her body is still kinda outta wack

Just like some of the others, she's also the type of person to bitch and whine all the time. Way snappier than usual

She has accidentally wacked people with her tail during that time

Basically, w/o Alexi, she's still a bit too honest

*She's also pretty quick to tell him. It went from her not really wanting to tell him cuz she thinks it's embarrassing to her just saying "I'm in a bit of a rut, can you help me out?"

With Alexi, her words are still unfiltered but she has a bit more control of it. But that's only if they're fucking constantly

It's completely possible that they're not, they're both fairly busy people, but if that's the case, she'd be EVEN WORSE. Just saying rude shit almost unprovoked

Everyone knows that they shouldn't talk about it because they don't wanna get their ass beat but it can be kind of a lot sometimes

If Alexi just walked in, she's already on him. She has to be touching him 98% of the time so she can function

Even if she's just laying on his lap she'd just be like :)

For some reason I didn't mention this earlier, but she'd be noticeably warmer than she was before

She gets her heat twice a year, but eventually it'll change to once every 3 years

AQUINAS

THIS HORNY BASTARD

Excuse me but she's not settling down for shit, no one can expect her to even come to work during her rut

If anything, the people who will replace her when it does happen know that she's never even gonna think about coming in

She is fucking everyone and their momma's. Her body count is probably off the charts just because of her heats.

And the thing is, she doesn't need to be doing all this. She just uses it as an excuse.

Of course heats are generally bad and annoying and they just suck. But also she's a bear so she really only feels the absolute need to mate for less than a week during her heat

Parties. All the time. Every minute of every hour. She's even going to parties in other universes

If she didn't straight up mention that she's in heat, no one would even notice

She's more straightforward than usual (who knew that was possible) and if you're not fucking with it, she's gone. Like immediately.

Her heat lasts 2 weeks and happens every 5 years

She has a crazy amount of energy (due to how much she eats) so she doesn't even get a little tired after. She just goes right back to normal

Fun fact, Nash is now just a "fallen angel" so he's not a hybrid, no heat for him

It's not like people are missing out, he's horny 80% of the time anyway

[divine17]

↳ ONE LAST THING | MASTERLIST

Request: "Hi! Would you write something where fezco takes care of the reader after she drinks too much at a party?” - Anon

“Since you’ve been talking about love confessions and stuff… Maybe one where reader is drunk and accidentally tells fez she loves him?” - Anon

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fem!Reader, reader is drunk

A/N: Just a little something soft after the finale 😭

Knock. Knock. Thump.

When Fezco finally notices the little noises, he can’t help but listen intently, intrigued. He’s pretty sure it’s coming from the front door, but he isn't sure what exactly the sound is. Too heavy for it to be the raccoons again, but far too light for it to be someone seriously trying to get in the house. The numbers on his home screen say it’s too damn late for him to be dealing with this, but he sits up in bed anyway. And just as quickly as he starts thinking about who it could be on his doorstep, his attention is drawn back to his phone.

The screen is bright and he can barely see the letters, but… He’s pretty sure you’re calling. Surprised, he’s quick to pick up.

“Fezco! Hellooo!” You gasp softly, almost as if you’re amazed that he answered. It was late, after all, and you really did think he’d be asleep. A little laugh escapes you, and he’s immediately… Suspicious. You’re bubbly, but you sound tired, somehow. Your words are slurred a little and you never call him by his whole name like that.

“Y/N?” He asks, his voice sleepy. He wonders what’s up with you, but it doesn’t take long for him to realize. “You drunk?”

You burst into a fit of giggles, and he’s got his answer. You laugh until you lose your breath, coughing lightly, lightheaded. For a moment, he thinks your laughter sounds a little too close, but the thought goes away as he shifts. Laying in his small bed, waiting for you to speak. You don't usually drink much, let alone get totally drunk, so he can’t help but be a little amused by you. In all the years of friendship, he can still count on one hand the number of times he’s seen you like this, and it never fails to surprise him.

“Can you come open the door, please?”

However confused, he obeys your command, swinging his legs onto the floor. His sock-covered feet pad through the living room, and the next thing you hear is the sound of the deadbolt unlocking. The door squeaks open, and the crickets pause their singing as Fez flicks the porch light on, examining the scene in front of him.

To say you’re drunk is probably an understatement. By the looks of you, he’d say you’re plastered. You’re sitting on the steps and the wind carries the scent of tequila toward him. Your hair is a little tangled and your dress is messed up, and your shoes are half undone like you’d tried to get them off, but couldn’t get the clasp.

“You came to rescue me!” You exclaim, laughing again when you see his frame in the doorway. You clumsily try to stand, nearly falling, but there’s a wide smile spread across your lips.

Mumbling a small ‘mhm,’ he shakes his head, trying not to laugh at how utterly excited you are to see him. He kneels beside you, gesturing for you to lift your foot onto his thigh. You’re agreeable, laughing softly as he undoes the clasp of your heel, gently pulling it off. He puts it beside him, and you can’t help but stare at him as he does the same to the other one before he stands. He extends his arm out to you, your shoes dangling from his fingertips. You grab his wrist anyway, letting him steadily pull you up from the cold concrete.

“Quiet.” He says, glancing over at Ash’s bedroom door. You nod, trying to walk quietly as he leads you down the hall. You try, you really do, but he realizes it’s sort of in vain when he hears a soft thud from beside him. You’d misstepped, hitting your hand against the wall, whispering out a rather loud ‘sorry’ as you enter his bedroom. He shuts the door, dropping your hand to go turn the lamp on.

You can’t help but wander around his room for a moment, and he’s almost scared to take his eyes off you for too long. He sits your shoes on the dresser, and it seems like, luckily, you get the hint to stay in one place. Skimming through the drawers, he pulls out one of his old tees and a pair of boxers. You’d never left any of your clothes here, but you smell like liquor and a perfume he didn’t recognize as yours. Plus, he didn’t think you’d want to sleep in a party dress, so these would have to do.

“Here, I’m gonna, uh…” Fez says, handing you the clothes. He makes a turning gesture with his hand before he turns his back to you. He’d like to give you more privacy than this to change but honestly, he isn’t sure you won’t fall over again.

You lay the clothes on the bed, wondering where to start on taking off your dress. After a moment, you make an attempt to simply pull the straps down, hoping you could just slide it down. Maneuvering a zipper probably wasn’t going to be easy at the moment, you thought, but it only takes a minute before you realize… Unfortunately, your plan isn’t actually as genius as you expected it to be. The fabric is too tight on your shoulders, and you’re afraid it’ll rip.

“Um, Fez?” You squeak out, defeated. He doesn’t turn around, simply humming a quiet, questioning ‘yeah?’ in response. “I need help, please. Zipper.”

Carefully, he turns to look at you. Now, you’ve got your back turned to him, half-trying to point to the metal on the back of the dress. He nods, fingers barely small enough to grasp the little zipper. He pulls it down your spine and takes a step back, going to turn again, but you sigh.

“Can you push the straps down, please? To my arms?” You sound sort of embarrassed to have to ask for help again, but he doesn’t mind.

“You ain’t gotta say please every time, Y/N.” He laughs, doing as you’d asked. They fall to your biceps as you hold the chest of the dress, and he grabs his phone, turning again. He scrolls for a moment, but grows bored quickly. “I’m just here to help.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” You reply, pulling the cloth from your arms. From there, it’s easy to get the dress off, and you quickly let it fall to your feet before beginning to take your bra off. It takes a moment, but you’re successful, and it joins the black pool of fabric beneath you. You tug his shirt on easily, smiling at how the hem goes to your thighs. The boxers are next, and you try to fold the dress and put it on the dresser, but it’s a little messy.

“Do you want me to help with the uh, the makeup?” He asks, gesturing wiping at his face, even though you can’t see him. You tap him on the shoulder to signal that you’re done, nodding. “Aight, stay here real quick.”

“I think I left wipes here, in the drawer.” You say, sitting down on the bed. He exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. Bored, you sit down on the bed, trying to keep your balance as you cross your legs. You’re a little hungry, and very tired, but decide to just wait for Fez. He comes back soon enough, a little blue container of makeup wipes between his hands.

He sits down next to you on the mattress, quickly skimming the instructions on the side of the package. He’d never done this before himself, but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He watched you do it all the time.

He tugs the top open, pulling a little wipe out. He wraps it around his finger and you close your eyes, letting him work. He’s gentle, more gentle than you imagined he’d be, and takes his time, swiping it across your skin until no color comes off anymore. Taking the pigment off your eyes was a little harder, but with time, and lots of fear of hurting you, he’s able to remove the vibrant colors… Even through your occasional giggles and whispers of how it tickles.

“Think I’m done.” He says, tossing the cloth into the trash bin beside him. When you open your eyes, you look up at him with big doe eyes. He has to look away or he thinks he might melt, standing from the bed and asking if you want some water instead. You shake your head, reaching to his nightstand for a ponytail holder.

“Just wanna sleep.” You sigh, pulling your hair into a bun. It’s messy, and you’re sure it won’t hold overnight, but you don’t really think you have the energy to care about redoing it. He nods, pulling the comforter back, grabbing one of his pillows and heading to the door. You roll your eyes, and he shoots you a questioning look.

“We’ve slept in the same bed before.” You laugh, scooting to the far side of the mattress. “Not like mommy and daddy are gonna catch us fraternizing or something.”

“You sure?” He asks, and you nod. “You’re just, y’know… Just wanted’a be respectful.”

“Very much appreciated, but I’m okay, I promise.” You giggle. With that, he laughs softly, putting the pillow back down beside you. He turns the lamp out before laying down beside you. The bed is small and your bodies press against each other, but neither of you mind too much. You’d practically done this a million times. Not with either of you drunk, but still.

A moment passes after the two of you adjust, and you can’t help but look up at him.The room is dark, illuminated only by the soft moonlight pouring through the window across from you. It’s just enough for you to make out his features. His long eyelashes, the little bump on his nose, the freckles that pepper his cheeks. He’s so beautiful, even if he doesn’t think so himself.

“Hey, Fez?” You ask, curling into him. There’s a lazy, tired smile across your lips, and you don’t think about your next words before you say them. “I love you.”

“Love you too, pretty girl. Get some sleep.”

taglist (add yourself here): @bigpoppajes @sivyera @maudesfolklore @leah-bobeea @lavbeeros @a-r-s56 @sia2raw @poisxnedmind @nesswastaken @chaoticevilbakugo @rosepetalsparks @kayasholland @bxmaaa @rosie-anne @withlovealwaysxx @hpleasingstyles @enchantedbutterflies

[taeilskitty]

Hey there! I saw that you open for a request so here's what I thought : what kind of sound did nct make when having sex? Are they more into whimpers, groans, or maybe dirty talk? Thank you so much for answering my question and hope you have a good day!

i was BORN to answer this omg. lemme tell you, i have thought about this so SO much!! (i'm leaving chenji out of this bc i don't know how people feel about that yet)

anyways, i hope u enjoy and i hope this matches what you had in mind <3

taeil

oh fuck. taeil is most certainly a groaner. i think (and trust me, i've thought a lot) he must make these gorgeous low moans like right in the back of his throat if that makes sense - have you ever heard his bubble voice messages? oh my god, they're so fucking hot. his raspy voice in the middle of the night is just to die for. that makes me CONVINCED that he dirty talks super up close. even thinking about it makes me shiver :(( he's the king of praise, i just know it. i think he degrades too, but his favourite is when he mixes both together - "you look so pathetic there baby, how cute." "daddy loves his pretty slut so much." "god you're so fucking good for me, my cockslut~" taeil also asks things, i think that suits him so much. "yeah? you like that?" "is daddy's cock too big baby? shh, i'll be done soon..."

taeyong

whiner. whiner. undoubtedly. this boy has the sweetest, prettiest little moans... he gets all high pitched when he's close and oh god when he sinks into subspace he just mewls and his voice gets so weak </3 little "yes" and "a-ah thank you"s slip out because he such a good kitten. he's so precious... and if he gets asked to speak while he's getting fucked he just squeaks out an answer. "m.. love it... ah..." n he will never fail to say his please and thank yous - he's so well mannered even when hes getting used !!!

johnny

this is just. oh my. i think he's silent for the most part. heavy breathing and quiet grunts and groans until he's close. THAT'S when he starts moaning, all sorts of things slipping out. "god you're so good" "i love this hole so much" ahh??! i think he talks down too. fuck !!! daddy!johnny is so patronising, and not just outside of the bedroom. kinda like taeil, he asks things, but he makes u feel so dumb and cock drunk :( AH AND he like... coos when you feel all dazed from his cock... "awh~ is that good? you like that don't you sweetheart? yeah, i know."

yuta

i have this vision of yuta just SLAMMING from behind with his face right up in your ear, telling you all sorts of dirty things lowly with just the hottest voice ever. he's very vocal about what he wants, and he loves cumming inside... so expect him to talk about that. oh, he is so fucking possessive too. "hmm. mine. this is mine. you're mine." he probably bites your ear/neck when he says it... the grunts that come out when he slams are enough to send anyone reeling, but i bet he tells you "fuck. gonna. gonna cum in my fuckdoll--" n his voice just trails off as he fills you up and sighs<33

kun

now kun is !! an interesting one !! ... i envision him as a pretty hard dom, so i don't think he's any stranger to degrading. that being said, i think he's more talkative when he's giving punishments (e.g. spanking over his thigh... heaven<33) rather than when he's fucking. i think he moans lowly, semi-quietly but as he gets more and more pent up he gets louder. (i think this is the case for most of the nct doms but oh well) he'll praise how good you make him feel - assuming you've been behaved enough - but that doesn't stop him from cursing under his breath at every chance he gets ,,..

doyoung

definitely has pretty moans !! he probably does whine, but i mean that in a dom way - if that makes sense? higher pitched moans but not pathetic, in fact it's probably paired with him whispering "fuck yes, good [insert ur fave petname here]". i think he's the type to kiss you a lot during sex and like... moan into your mouth; any space not taken up by the sound of moans will for sure be filled with the sound of his panting and his tongue dancing with yours.

ten

another semi-whiner. i always saw him as a dom but i'm sliiightly succumbing to the idea that he may be a switch... which is why i think there's so much BEAUTY in his moans?? ten makes really pretty, breathy whines and moans i'm sure, i don't particularly think he talks a crazy amount but rather short instructions. (yes i'm going back to dom!ten) "turn around." "get on your knees" "quiet." AH !! he always lets you know what he needs - however, sub!ten will just whine and squirm till you make him cum because he is most definitely a slut who takes anything:(

jaehyun

first of all, this man wrecks me to the fucking core, and i could talk about this for... a while. but his moans are definitely like, raspy high-pitched type. think about his vocals. esp in try again... i bet you they sound like THAT. i'm sure he talks a bit too, tbh he probably says rather textbook dirty things but it sounds so fucking hot when it's him. "yeah take it, take my cock" "fuck yes just like that", he loves how you whine when he moans right up next to you btw - it just makes him do it even more. oh, and bonus - he will never call you ANYTHING without prefixing it with my or daddy's. daddy's girl, daddy's boy, daddy's pet, my dirty slut... ahh<3

winwin

it's almost contrasting to jaehyun but sicheng's voice is so low. i can't explain this in any way other than that he's kitty, but his moans are so... puppy? and when he's fucked, he makes himself sound so dumb too. he's constantly slurring his words and biting his lip because he's trying to keep quiet but anyone who walks by the room will hear "mm.. m!!" because he just can't help himself :( when he's close he probably squeaks like taeyong and cums all over the place GOD i want him

jungwoo

oh god there's no doubt that jungwoo talks SO much during sex. he probably loses his fucking mind with how good he feels. he's such a good boy but sometimes you just need him to shut up - but he can't. he squeaks out a little moan when you push into him, or when you start touching his cock, but withn minutes he's babbling non-stop; "oh god oh god mommy/daddy i love it so much, a-ah like that, please~"

lucas

my brain used to be convinced that xuxi was a dom, but i'm now sure he's a switch. either way, his moans are pretty much the same. they're very heavy and... i guess manly is the best way to put it. in my head i can literally picture him being like "ughhh..." when you start fucking because he just feels like he's wanted to fuck you so desperately - yes, even if you fucked hours before. it's always so breathy and moany and i think he sounds like a bit of a fuckboy tbh... "fuck yeah" as he slides his cock into you? THANKS

mark

loud baby loud baby LOUD BABY:((( no matter how much you cover that pretty mouth of his he will be so LOUD!! he can't stop talking and whining and panting, kinda like jungwoo but honestly... more. he swears a lot too. he tries not to but he just can't help himself :( "aw shit... god shit!!!" under his breath UGHHFDGGDFDD SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA SCREAM !!! he's very polite though, so he always says sorry every single time :( he babbles like hell when he cums, he can't stop himself, again like jungwoo. "i'm gonna cum i'mgonnacumi- i'm -- ah fuck, shit--!!"

xiaojun

two words. action figure. everyone knew that was coming, HA - i'm sorry but THAT verse means we all know how he sounds. i think he tries his best to talk normally while you edge him but his little voice keeps on wavering and cracking and just... he can't help but sound all pretty and pathetic :( but surely dejun has some (very frequent) moments where he can't keep his front anymore and just whines like a whore because it feels so good<3

hendery

the things i'd let this man do to me:))) i think at first he'd actually try and hide his moans because he feels like that's what he's supposed to do, but no. for me personally, i know i would NOT LET THAT HAPPEN !! he probably sucks the air in through his teeth in an attempt to hide it - it's very fucking sexy when he does that, granted - but he can't keep doing that for long. i think he hums and laughs when he can't keep it in any longer because he almost feels some kinda defeat but then he just moans semi-loudly and lets out a "good girl/boy/baby... let me fuck you, huh?"

renjun

renjun scares the fuck out of me. why? because his moans are fairly quiet. he's master and it S H O W S. he grunts quietly, maybe muttering things under his breath like "so fucking tight" "mmh there you go..." to fill some silence but he does it subconsciously; he goes so far into domspace sometimes that he just can't control himself. when he's close he talks through his teeth and he's like "i'm. i'm gonna cum baby..."and the more you whine on his cock the more he just laughs at you because he's a sadist hhhhhhhhhhh.........

jeno

most definitely a fun one... you see when he's sub, he pants and whines and drools all over himself like a big dumb puppy boy and he just breathes so heavy n his moans are all shaky... if he's a brat he will try and talk big but he can't take it, he just gets so pathetic and !!! but dom jeno is fucking TERRIFYING because he talks down and tries his best to intimidate you. he chuckles and degrades you, but one of his faves is when he can big himself up under his breath. "look at you now. you love this fucking cock."

haechan

this isn't good for my mental health :) i fucking cannot TAKE this brat :) AHA! hyuckie is honestly such a whore, he's bratty and rude and always talks back at you like he's the king of the fucking world. he's constantly laughing at you and trying so hard to make you feel like you're not worthy but he feels so good he just gets fucked dumb by you :( he is SO loud too. he wants everyone to hear what a dirty whore he is and he makes sure he puts on his prettiest pornstar moans. he whines like his life depends on it. on the off chance that he's being a good boy, he begs and cries and whimpers when he finally cums - and i mean CRIES. sobs. he'll be heaving by the time you're done with him, but god he fucking loves it.

jaemin

fuck... fuck okay... well firstly he loves to talk. we all know how much he praises and how he's constantly showing his love off... that doesn't stop at fanservice, nope. he will fuck you like a ragdoll and keep calm and composed as ever, talking down to you as if you're in his lap for a soft cuddle. "baby loves nana so much hm~?" "oh you really love that don't you?" "you know you're so pretty. nana wants to cum in you so bad~" yes, he calls himself nana because he's a cocky fuck and loves how it sounds. especially when you're moaning it for him.

yangyang

i'm kinda in 2 minds about this... on the one hand, he's kinda like hyuckie in that he whines a LOT. but he can actually keep his composure - he's a breathy whiner, he's not quite as loud and he most certainy doesn't crumble as easily. (that's not to say that he can't, he most definitely can.) on the other hand i think when he's in a more neutral headspace rather than subby, he talks to you like a total fuckboy. not in a mean way but he's just like "hah. i know you love me fucking you like this." he gets so cocky and he sucks hickeys into your neck and hums quietly<3

shotaro

he's such a shy baby :( he wants to moan so much but he probably gets all self conscious and tries to hide it... so you gotta make him feel safe :( when he does he whimpers and it's so pretty and pathetic. the way he wells up with tears and hitches his breath is. adorable. he whispers "thank you... ah..." every time he feels that good and by the time he cums it's just falling from him like a waterfall :( the more comfortable he feels, though, the sluttier he can get... he will always be a good boy but i think he lets his whore side come out every once in a while <3

sungchan

last but most certainly not least, yet ANOTHER boy who pains me to the core. i think sungchan whimpers too. THERE I SAID IT. his cock is too big for his own good so he just... needs you to do SOMETHING to him :( he always sighs at first, maybe hissing just a little but then he gets to a point where he's quietly whimpering because he just needs to cum so fucking bad <//3 "need it... p-please..." he's always nervous to use titles but if he wants to cum he has no choice :( when his dom asks please who? he blushes bright red n mumbles a little "please mommy/daddy... 'm so good..." and god yes he is he deserves it so much ugh<33333333333333

[thecraftymagician]

What are the M6 like when they’re ✨ drunk ✨? (Btw no worries if you don’t want to do it! I know not everyone is comfortable with alcohol so no hard feelings!)

Who are you and how did you read my mind?? I was just thinking about this the other day haha No worries, I'm comfy with alcohol! Well anything that isn't Jagger bleh, don't come at me lol There are alot of different kinds of drunks (according to google between 4 and 12??) but I don't think anyone is just one type. It depends on who they are around, what they have been drinking, how their life is, etc. But in general/as a baseline here are my thoughts:

Warning: Drinking, substances/alcohol

M6 When they're Drunk!

Asra💜

While they don't drink often, it's not too tricky to tell when they are/have been.

Hiccups! While they can be flirty sometimes, as a drunk they're more sensual with their tone and words.

Lowkey sloppy, just wants hugs and just loves everyone so much. You guys are just the best like. Ever.

Bubbly but also soft spoken. They're just here to vibe really.

Nadia💖

She usually sticks to wine and can handle herself but on occasion she lets herself get drunk.

Snort laughs and very giggly. She tends to be a bit silly, entertaining weird talks/thoughts.

She won't suggest going on adventures like jumping in the fountain buuuut she's not saying no.

She wants to let her hair down a bit but won't necessarily party unless it's with the right people, time, and place.

Julian🖤

The only dead giveaways are his face being a bit flushed, slurring a little, and smelly boozy.

Otherwise he's practically himself, if a bit more bold. Liquid courage after all.

He's the one with most of the bright ideas that might get everyone in trouble but he'll also be the one to get you out of it.

The not quite DD/The babysitter. On his own though he gets lonely and sad which is why he likes to drink with friends.

Muriel💚

Doesn't drink often either but when he does he blushes like a mad man. He takes forever to finish a drink at first but after about two he downs them quickly.

He'll stay quiet unless someone talks to him. Then that's the most you'll probably ever hear out of him because he gets talkative.

If left alone, he'll find the animals and just vibe while petting them. Isn't really down for the antics but tries to co-babysit everyone.

He can't handle his booze as well though so he's never fully in charge while drinking.

Portia🧡

So very loud! Laugher and just talking. Well until she starts getting everyone to sing!

Needs to be baby sat as she will try to go off on her own solo adventures. Will feed off Lucio's energy and vice versa. The night might turn into hunting the duo down but 7/10 times they're in the palace kitchen having snacks.

Won't stop moving whether it's dancing, switching seats or sitting positions she won't stay put.

You'll know she's had enough when she gets quiet and very sleepy.

Lucio❤️

Kinda just himself but a bit louder and sloppier, slurring his words and kind of sloshing his drinks around.

Will finish anyone's drink if they can't also good at calming anyone down somehow but cannot be trusted to babysit. (Sometimes you have a tough night but he's that random dude who will hype you up and tell you everything will be good before disappearing forever.)

Doesn't matter who, what, when, where, why or how, he'll be turning this is turning into a bar crawl.

Will fight any drunk for spilling a drink on him or a friend right here, right now.