#i get the urge to draw and this is what comes of it BRUH!

[aviewtoakillmp3]

wrongfish.png

[crowborn666-writes]

hi anon here! i was wondering if u could do a platonic aizawa x student reader? basically reader gets really overwhelmed (sensory wise) at the feeling of clothes on their skin sometimes and it happens one day when they’re in their dorm and they just dunno how to cope with it so they end up accidentally sh relapsing cuz they just need to get their frustration out. aizawa ends up finding out about it and confronts them about it one day after class. gender neutral reader btw. this is oddly specific LMFAOO sorry bruh it’s totally cool if u cant do it! <3 (bonus points if reader is autistic)

Sense

(Sensory overload? Autistic? Sounds like me already lol. I’m more familiar with noise and lighting sensory overload than fabric, so hope it’s ok I stuck those in here as well!)

Aizawa x Student!Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Platonic

Summary: Too much leads you to a relapse, your teacher finds out and wishes to help.

TW/CW: mentions of accidental self harm, mentions of blood/bleeding, sensory overload caused by touch, light, and sound,

(If I missed any, pls lmk!)

~~~~~~

Breakfast was slightly rowdy as usual, Bakugo griping about how Denki and Shoto shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen as he fixes the mess they made. Iida running around handing everyone plates, Kirishima giving everyone a warm good morning with Mina.

You’d no less than sat down in your usual spot when Iida came whizzing by with your usual breakfast, you toss a quick thanks over your shoulder, beginning to eat.

Minutes went by, you quietly eating when the noise seemed to get louder. A glance up made you wince, the lights seeming brighter. Your clothes then began to itch.

You bit your lip, glancing around at everyone’s smiling faces, perhaps if you found something to distract yourself with, you could ignore it.

You focused on your food, trying to focus on the nice taste when someone’s voice went a level higher. Your hand reached for your sleeve, beginning to scratch at the skin just underneath.

The voices only got louder, the light brighter, your clothes scratchier. Louder, brighter, scratchier. Louder, brighter, scratchier. Louderbrighterscratchie–

Breakfast was over, Iida coming by to scoop up your empty plate, most everyone heading to the common room to watch TV together. You changed your usual course, instead of going to the common room with everyone you moved past it, off towards your dorm room. Panicked breaths left you, feet a near blur across the carpet.

The dark quiet of your room was welcomed, but you found yourself clawing off the offending, itchy fabric on your skin.

You lose yourself for a moment, coming back to find your teeth sunken into your flesh and your nails digging angry red lines across your forearm. Small dots of blood bubbled to the surface from the injuries. A small, quiet cry leaves you as the pain registers, both from the injury and from your mind. You’d been doing well…

You shake away those thoughts, taking a shaky breath before moving to your bathroom to clean up.

Faint teeth marks, scratches, nails dug into your palms. You cleaned them all and bandaged the ones needed. You were thankful for the long sleeves on your uniforms, as well as the usually comfortable baggy clothing you wore.

You picked your safest outfit to wear, drawing the curtains slightly to limit the amount of light in your room.

Deep breath. In and out.

You’d be okay. A bit of time here to calm is what you need.

School was a wreck, people were being loud and seemingly more annoying with their antics than usual.

And worst of all, your uniform was starting to itch.

A shaky breath, the urge to scratch and bite and pick and—

You shook your head a little, shaking away those thoughts.

You didn’t bother staying in the lunch room, not wanting to throw yourself into another sensory overload.

A gentle hand brushed your arm as you moved through the hallway, and you turn to see Aizawa-sensei there.

“You don’t look so good, (L/n). Do you want to eat lunch in the classroom?”

You almost wanted to cry tears of relief. You nodded, following behind him to the classroom with your lunch.

“Sensory overload getting to you?” Aizawa piped up, glancing your way. “Iida said you didn’t look so well yesterday morning.”

“Yeah..” you murmured, your wrists trying to urge you to scratch them. “It got bad yesterday.”

“You’re free to talk about it if you want.” He replied, flipping all but one set of lights off as you both entered the classroom.

“…I relapsed…” you breathed, avoiding his gaze.

“May I see the damage?” He asked, setting his paperwork down and taking the seat next to you as you sat down.

You nodded, sure your teacher didn’t miss the way you tried to avoid your sleeve touching your skin as you tugged it back, showing the scabbed over scratches.

“The fabric of my clothes gets itchy, and it’s hard not to scratch sometimes.”

Aizawa nodded quietly, taking your hand gently to assess the damage. “I’ll see if Nezu can get in a change of fabrics for your uniform. The damage here isn’t too bad.”

“I know… but I hadn’t in a long time and—“

“It’s not about how long it’s been, in the end, it’s about if you choose to keep fighting.”

Aizawa let go of your hand, sitting back. “Eat some food, you’ve got hero class next, and you’ll need the nutrition.”

“Thank you, Aizawa-sensei.” You replied as he stood, scooping up his paperwork as he moved to his desk.

“If it gets bad again, you’re free to come in here to relax.”

[deafsignifcantother]

you're gonna need somebody on your bond

��� summary: inspired by @doliacuddles's tomie fic here, as well as another fic relating to a s/o tomie-related but i read that months ago and have no idea where it could be. - basically this about Alastor being like "you're only here because you taste good" and reader is like "okay then stop being nice to me because it's weird that you're not craved like the other men so get off my back bruh" ♥ helpful lore: reader is a demon with the abilities combined of tomie and the 'hosts' from the vita carnis series. ♥ relationship: alastor x female deaf reader ♥ word count: 3k ♥ notes: femme fatale, i'm not mentally okay, alastor doesn't know sign language, she talks though. + there's light gore in these because I'm silly goofy so my bad guys!

His claws find their way into your hips. Drawing blood as usual, he stares into your eyes, testing your regard, neither of you breaking eye contact.

He's been drawn to you since the second he saw you, which hasn't surprised you in the slightest. What was a surprise was how non-sexual the draw was and how classy he had formerly been. Now he settles on trying to scare you; his heart races at the idea of you fearing him. But you never do. You just give him a cocky smile, running your tongue over your teeth as if you're mocking his attempts. It only makes him want to tear you apart.

He pulls you closer to him, dragging his nails across your skin, blood staining your red dress. His eyes glow despite the darkness of the alleyway. He had been planning on killing you, but somehow, the amusement of your neutral reactions is saving your life. He's fighting his urge to devour you by devoting his time to scaring you. No matter how many cuts he makes to your skin, how many times he's dug his teeth into your neck after sneaking up behind you, you never scream, never give him a proper reaction. Sometimes, you caress the side of his head, petting him like an animal.

His mouth opens, and your face grows a smile. His breath is hot on your face, tongue dripping with lust as it makes its way to your neck, licking up your tendon, leaving a trail of hot saliva. Instead of pulling away, you tilt your head to give him more access. It disgusts him. His body language and his thoughts offer two different stories.

He leans back, moving one of his hands to grab your mouth, pushing his claws in so deep that you can feel the sharpness against your gums. He whispers something you can't understand before the stinging of his impaling becomes unbearable. Your eyes water instinctually.

Oh, my little girl. He had said.

He shakes your head back and forth, wedging his way into your mouth, nails caressing your tongue.

With a strength only he possesses, and in one quick pull, he rips your jaw off.

:3

With your regenerated jaw, you sigh, rub it, and look over at the baby-like version of yourself growing from the detached part of you. Its eyes are angry, and it grinds its teeth and growls. The small, pointed, undeveloped teeth show off as if they're any sort of threat.

There is no off-switch to the abilities Hell had gifted you. Even since you first fell down, demonic men would lick their lips and lunge at you. You've gotten accustomed to the feeling of teeth ripping you apart, and admittedly, sometimes, it excites you. This Mrs. Potato Head magic you're stuck with has pros and cons. One of the pros, and your favorite pro, is having the infamous Radio Demon at your every beck and call.

So, in his room, you watch him devour the early-birthed head. Brain matter fell from his lips, mixing with blood and whatever fluid was lodged behind your eyeballs. It's eyeballs, not yours. The stomach-turning sight of him ripping the flesh straight off its face, the layer coming off like the skin of a chicken's breast. Degloves, the sight of the red and orange meat around your skull makes you squint.

You look away.

The tension between you and the sounds you can only imagine is unbearable. Sometimes, you're grateful you're deaf. You don't fear Alastor, not entirely, but that doesn't mean you can't be disgusted by his bestial traits. Watching him eat you is not the most attractive sight. A bit of an ick if you do say so yourself.

He licks away the remains of your runny, sticky tissue until there's nothing but the pure skull. His long, slimy tongue had licked up the rest of your brain from where he cracked it open.

He is prepared to rip you apart and devour your creations once again. He approaches, practically on all fours, his shadow corrupting your seated form. You look so good on his floor. He could pounce, dig his nails into you like he loves doing, or maybe he can impale you with his sharp antlers.

But all he does is give you shivers as he pets your silky hair, and when you expect him to yank on it, he puts his face into it and sniffs. Your spine straightens. Dirty man.

You turn, staring at his bloody face, his sharp eyes, and his tight smile. He is so handsome like this. The swoops of his hair and the shoulder pads on his coat give him a unique figure; everything about him is exceptional. When you reach out to him, hand heading towards his face, he leans back and eyes you. Your hands don't hold claws like most demons; they're surprisingly gentle for a woman tainted with morbid curiosity. Your feminine charm is a part of his interest. The blood on his face goes from endearing to annoying when he doesn't let you wipe it off. Seriously, you wish to sign, come here. Though he'd never understand a word you'd say.

Testing his apprehensiveness towards you, you stretch your arm out anyway and rub the blood from the corner of his mouth. He again leans away from your touch, bending his head to the side, his smile turning into a snarl.

He can eat you alive, but you're not allowed to touch his cheek? Ridiculous. You match his snarl, animalistic vocabulary through two demons' language barrier. He uses his trigger fingers to grab your wrist, not breaking eye contact.

Your perception of Alastor is inconsistent. Will he bite your hand off or kiss your knuckles? Will he rip your throat out or lick it gently? You can never tell. His intentions are quite versatile.

This time, he just lets you go, patting your head before standing. He extends a bloody hand to help you up.

The empty skull behind him is disregarded but will soon be another treasure he'll place on his shelves next to the other ones he's gotten a taste of. Oh, how addicting your flavors are. And you're so willing to let him debase the creations your body births. He loves your snarls too, the way you copy his facial expressions.

His hand caressing your cheek reeks of sincerity. You stand shorter than him, bodies never close enough to touch but close enough to reach. If Vegas had odds on it, you'd step closer, and he'd be okay with it.

Out of fascination, of course. Nothing else.

He laughs and you step back. You've been comfortable with the blood and remains, obviously, but the rancid scent of your remains on his breath is the worst part of knowing him.

:3

Husk opens another bottle for you with his claw, eyes facing the floor to Alastor's command. Your position in the hotel is a unique one. You're another 'staff' member brought by Alastor, as he's convinced Charlie that you'll be more than able to get people into the hotel. This is true, as a lot of men have come in, some getting disemboweled by Alastor the moment they try and touch you. But some of them are less attentive to you after a while.

Here's the formula, you hand out fliers, wink, and head back to the hotel. Then, men will appear at the doors for days (or all coming at once within a few hours). You caress their cheek and tell them you'll be all theirs if they follow Charlie's plan. That's when Alastor locks you in his room. He's discovered through this process that your spell will go away with a lack of contact. Three days, to be exact. The men will follow your single command, granting Charlie willing participation and fulfilling Alastor's help for the hotel. Pentious was a harder participant, especially considering he couldn't kill him for his attempts, but those went away with everybody else's. In his room, you get your own vanity, one placed so you can watch the fireplace and have a small view of the door. Homey, not the worst place to be locked inside.

This is one of the few chances you can be out and about without Alastor directly standing behind you. Husk hands you the bottle.

"Thank you," you grab it and, instinctively, brush your fingers against him. He mumbles a response before mentally facepalming.

You put the bottle to your lips and try to hide a smile, but your eyes never leave Husk, teasing him to meet your gaze. Come on, you little kitty cat, entertain me.

He's not an idiot. Between knowing your tricks and following Alastor's orders, there's no chance he will amuse you.

Angel sits beside you with a drink already in his hand, always utterly unfazed by your abilities, and toasts you. His mouth holds a lopsided smile, and his eyes stare unread. You clink your drink against his. Staring into his eyes is relieving; there's no threat, not one you're used to.

Quickly, you realize why he had stepped over. Alastor forms behind him, obviously having followed, and he stares at you while addressing Husk. His lips are impossible to read with that smile.

"Don't mind her, Husker," his voice deepens, heavy with static. "She's always chasing the knife."

"Yeah," he looks Alastor up and down, "I can tell."

Alastor barks out a laugh before passing by Angel, leaving a vast distance, grabbing your wrists, and forcing you to your feet. This is why he doesn't like letting you roam without him. You don't behave. What could he have done if Husk fell for your charm? Kill him? No, no, that's only for the useless. Nobody in the hotel would want to deal with an unstable alcoholic in heat. Have you lost your mind?

You're lucky you're so delicious.

Alastor grabs the bottle from your hand, eyeing it, tapping it a bit before tossing it over his shoulder. It travels a distance and shatters against a wall. With a sarcastic wave of a finger, his other hand grabs your hips (his favorite place) and forces you to follow him back to his room. With how he touches you, one would think you're his best friend. Your relationship is admired by those who knew you least. However, Nifty notices that he holds you similarly to Rosie and smiles at you the same way he does at Nifty. Still, Husk recognizes the dreadful deadlock no matter how kind it may seem. And though your presence makes him uncomfortable, Husk will never turn you down when you approach the bar. Mainly because there was once an instant where you weren't trying to ruin his week with your mental prowling. You brought him a gift. It was from before you were tethered permanently to the hotel, back when Alastor brought you in to show you around. In the days when you could go in and out, you brought Husk some expensive Lucky Larger he hadn't seen since he was alive. You were the one that adverted your gaze. As much as a mosquito-like woman you've ended up being within an ample amount of months, there was still a semblance of a kind woman. You drank it together, and your shell cracked open like an egg. When you spoke to him, you had the voice of a teenage girl permanently stuck in the past. He could not respond in a way you'd understand, but he lent you an ear anyway. The drunker you get, the smaller your voice becomes, and the more watery your eyes get, but the moment Alastor comes by, your voice turns into a loud, cocky laugh, and you hold a snarl at Husk. He got it. He understood.

So when Alastor throws the bottle over his shoulder and leads you to his room, Husk takes notice of the slight stumble of your feet.

"Oh boy," he turns his attention to Angel. "This'll be good."

Alastor doesn't miss your uneven steps, either.

You grumble, "I wasn't doing anything."

He lightly shakes his head, a motion unnoticed by you. The words he'd say if you could hear them.

His gloved hand remains on your side, and his heeled boots match steps with your shorter stride. You place your hand over his, securing his grip on your waist, your blood-colored nails fading with the shade of his coat. He gathers the strength not to pull away. Your hands are warm, as warm as the arteries stringing your body together; he wants to cut you open and bury himself inside you. His grip on your waist tightens, but when you try and draw back, he interlocks your fingers and places them back. I'm just making sure you don't fall, he convinces himself; you're stumbling like a calf.

His other hand sports his microphone, using it as a cane.

"Alastor," you say his name with a velvety tone. Thank God you can't hear the glitching tones the speaker just let out. Whatever you were going to say never left your lips. He removes his hand, slipping away from you, and opens his bedroom door. You enter, and he follows, closing the door, the most routine part of your days, much grander than the standard living 9-5.

His hand lingers on the door, where you imagine a soft clicking of the lock; he keeps his eyes on you as he does.

He approaches you in a few straightforward strides, placing both hands on your cheeks, the ends of his nails softly scratching at your atlas. The fireplace ignites, the lights dim, and his hands slide closer to the back of your head. Your hair brushes from your face.

You love these little (and a tad bit sensual, but he would never describe them that way) staring contests.

His teeth part. "What a lovely thing you are."

You close your eyes, preparing for a bite. But when it doesn't come, you peak.

There's no change in his expression, but he's laughing through his teeth. Alastor is not good at affection; he's mostly known for just allowing people he likes to give it to him. But when you don't initiate, he finds himself taking the lead. That's why he grips your hair and tilts your head back, looking at your eyes as your lids drop with the angle. Your brows even furrow, a genuine smirk growing on your lips. Oh, that's interesting.

Your closed lips part as your jaw relaxes. He tilts your head more, leaning over you, his neck bent to overwhelm your form. The ridges of your esophagus lead to perked tendons and high collarbones. Your head flutters strangely. Are you struggling? Your hands even lift to touch his elbows.

"That hurts," you say. That hurts? He's clawed you, split you in half, swallowed your eyes and chewed your fingers off, but this is what makes you complain?

He speaks. "You're so strange."

You just stare at him.

He continues. "You prance around as if you have all the power in the world but you melt at any caress. What does that make you?"

Would you do that to any other man?

You just blink, your expression filled with discomfort, and he lets you go. Alastor even takes a respectful step back. With a shifted attitude, his eyes squint, and his smile closes to be a joyful line on his face.

When your mouth opens again to speak, he raises a finger to shush you. He gestures to the wall with his head, his hair bouncing, and his ears following suit before his outline dissipates into traveling shadows. How will you act if you didn't know he was watching?

Your face drops. You definitely got Husk in trouble.

Don't feel bad, you remind yourself, just think about what he could do if he had looked into your eyes.

Alastor protects you from that.

While you're not too positive that Alastor would be keen on you roaming through his stuff, this room might as well be yours, too, so you run your fingers across the books on his shelves. Your buzzed state gives you lenience to his rules (in your eyes). Does he even read these? The only time you've seen him here is late at night when he lights the fireplace or during the times when he feeds. There's an outlier in the books, and when you look closer, you realize it's more of a thick folder. After glancing behind you, you test your luck and pick it off the shelf. It truly is a folder. It's filled with sheet music, once blank bars filled with hand-written notes and braces. When did he have the time to write these? A lot of the circles aren't filled all the way, and many of the dots are just black pits. Rushed? Does he write these with passion?

You flip through the papers, just glancing over his writing before a doodle on the edge of a page catches your attention. You almost miss it; it's on the far left side, hidden by the pages on top of it. The folder finds its place on his bedside table, open to the same spot, and you take the sheet out to look closer.

It's you.

It's a doodle but recognizable. The lines have been sketched many times as if he took the time to work on them. You have a neutral expression, a 3/4th view with your eyes locked on the perspective. It's not the drawing that captivates you; many people have attempted drawing you before, but it's how simple it is. There are no twisted expressions, no figures ripping themselves through your face, or your body ripping in half.

You glance behind you again, almost expecting him there. Being alone is more sentimental; his absence is relieving. When you look back down, you will see a wet patch. You touch your cheeks. Tears. Are you crying? That's embarrassing.

You tuck the page back and close the folder. Any possible further drawings are unseen; you're going to avoid seeking them out; this one is satisfying enough. The second you put it back on the shelf, your self-control loosens, and you stumble back, knees wobbling, and sluggishly fall to the floor. Laughter escapes you. Why are you laughing? No matter, your throat keeps releasing laughs, loud and uncontrolled. What a disgusting man.

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Comte’s 4th Birthday Story Event: Before the Clock Strikes Midnight

REEEEEEEE Ik it was a long time ago but life has been a [redacted], so I figured better late than never HAHA

So without further ado, anybody who’s curious feel free to click for more--I’ll put it under a cut for spoilers as per usual~

So in this story it’s the usual, a few days before his birthday, and they’re discussing a bump in the road. Essentially, it appears a friend of Comte’s is going to be celebrating a wedding, and as such he’s going into the suburbs/affluent part of the region to be able to attend. It’s only a few hours away from the mansion, but he will be gone for a few days with the arrangements made for his stay. 

While this wouldn’t typically be an issue, MC has some things to take care of and opts out of attending with him (preparing for his bday probably LMAO) and Comte is immediately big sad. My favorite dramatic fool is already pouting, though he fully accepts and respects her decision. Besides which, he fully intends to be back in time to celebrate his birthday as well. He notes that he’s always admired how driven and independent she is, and has no intention of getting in the way of that. He’s just going to miss her, is all.

He says as much, figuring there’s no point in hiding it: “I really wanted to bring you with me to attend…but I suppose it simply can’t be helped” … “That’s not it…I guess I’m just wondering if you’ll miss me as much as I’ll miss you while I’m away.” 

And MC’s just like “Aw, it’s okay it’ll only be a few days.” While Comte’s response is a very mature, high-pitched whining sound at a frequency only King (Theo’s dog) and Theo himself can hear. When MC tries to reassure him once more, his Hamlet impression continues: “Even the prospect of a few days away from you feels unbearable.” 

Naturally, as any man do that loves his wife, he draws her close and proceeds to bang the living daylights out of her. I would offer details, but I have no deets to give beyond: [Well MC, it appears I won’t be letting you get much sleep tonight.] 

Brief intermission for the vague sounds of fangirl cardiac arrest. 

The scene opens again to him doing his walk of shame (the slut) down the walkway and into the carriage that will take him to his friend’s house. His thoughts carry the regret of burdening her with his desire, though MC is pretty much on cloud nine and unable to stop thinking about the heady night they shared in a good way. Bruh and the sly look when he figures out why she looks like that--I’m boutta call the police, he is going to make women and men alike act up. 

MC scrambles to cool his already returning desire by insisting he will be late if he indulges any further, and he laughs and agrees easily–albeit with the slightest hint of reluctance. My favorite part in this exchange is that he kisses her forehead, adding that it’s because she’s the most adorable person in the world to him (a moment of silence for our uwus). 

Fast forward to Comte trying to get home after the festivities are over. Problem is, it’s been raining like a mOTHERBLEEPER, and as such carriages have no safe way to traverse the roads at the moment. He waited out the first day as patiently as possible, but after the second–and no sign of stopping–his Leeroy Jenkins instincts kick in. He notes to the coachman that he’s aware he’s asking a lot, but they fully intend to take the long way which invites the least risk–and the rain is ebbing, even if the progress is slow. 

It’s interesting because there’s another echo of his main story in this moment. He essentially showcases a desperation to return before the day ends, though without context it’ll probably seem a little strange, so I’ll do my best to explain. Basically, in his main story, MC notes that she doesn’t really care how different they are. Different time, different species, different experiences, so on and so forth. She hammers home that what matters is that the present is something that they actively share. It’s theirs. And no amount of divisions he desperately tries to draw will change that fundamental reality. 

And it’s a little moving to see how deeply he takes it to heart? I think it’s one of those wonderful phenomena, personally–the way a person can influence how you think and act with their sentiments. Sometimes someone says precisely what it is we need to hear, and it changes us–while it can be for the worse, it can also be for the better. He notes that he spent so many birthdays; among the people serving his house when he was little, raising hell with his friends in his younger days, so on and so forth. Not unlike Leonardo, he says that after so many “special” days the faces become a blur, the festivities lose their luster. It’s just another day, at this point. 

Note, one interesting thing here that stands out to me is that I feel like this is a reflection of both of their larger struggles. Where Comte can’t stand the relentless flow of time rendering him the only constant (and something of a ghost, never fully present), Leonardo can’t bear birthdays because it means remembering people who still mean the world to him, but are long gone. People he can never see again, never laugh with again, never share his life with again. And I think that’s a very profound pain, an anguish that just keeps on settling its weight. (Oh, Sisyphus…)

Comte’s is similar, but different. He actively works to keep his distance-- unlike Leonardo, he approaches immortality in the pragmatic way. He knows getting close will hurt, so he opts out of that–keeps a step behind, an easy smile on his face. Betrays only fragments to anyone, always has his guard up. But the downside of being so guarded means you eventually feel hollowed out and alone; nobody truly knows or understands you. There is a distinct loneliness in that approach, where memories only become reminders of how nothing ever improves and how bereft you are of warmth. 

Leonardo, at least, gets to have the joy of being known from time to time. But loss and estrangement from those people means double the pain in the long run, because he loved them fully. Comte chooses to live in the cold to protect himself, but ends up in a kind of catch-22; the cost of forgoing loss means a constant deadening of his own feelings. It means living in a kind of fog, where there is a distinct discomfort in the silent obscurity of your own heart. 

There’s something I’ve come to believe in my short course of living, so I guess I still need time to determine how true it is. But…I feel like, when people live this way, where who they are is a lie or it’s at the very least carefully concealed, we in part start to become that lie. I think it’s fascinating because Comte seems to have so much personality to him. He’s dramatic, he’s thoughtful, he has a sense of mischief about him, he has strong ideals, and he has an even more ironclad moral grounding. And yet, when he talks about himself, he always uses descriptions that hinge on emptiness. Like he’s worth so little, worth nothing. And that’s what I mean–he’s been trying so hard to glide on the surface that he has come to believe he really is equivalent to something that ephemeral. Like there’s nothing more inside him, or if there is, that it will never be worthy of much. I think it really speaks to the ways behavior impacts the psyche, even though the opposite tends to be considered the only possible cause and effect relationship. 

He’s so determined to live for and in the future while he’s in the present, that he forgets to enjoy himself and really live. And while that approach is certainly understandable, I do think he loses parts of himself along the way. Only to be rediscovered and placed back into his hands by MC: [Today–this moment–our now, I don’t want to miss it for anything.] And that's not even touching on how quick she is to make them a we; she's not letting him keep that distance. It’s not “you have the ability to share this day with me” it’s “we’re here and in this together.”

I feel like what I love about this is that it’s not only about how sweet he is on MC, but also about how much he’s truly living again for the first time. His defenses are slowly inching their way down, he’s letting himself hope and want things and look forward to things again. The thing about being a responsible person is that–while responsibility is all well and good–sometimes you become so mired in doing the right thing and planning the most optimal outcomes that you just aren’t thinking of yourself anymore. That is, if you ever were to begin with. He went from the careful cultivation of a life as an aristocrat, to a life that spoke of more freedom and fun beyond those iron wrought gates, before he returned to the structure of what he knew. Freedom speaks to him I’m sure–we all need it in some measure to survive. But I do think a good portion of that was unfulfilling for him after a point. It was only feeding the void that was beginning to form inside him. He was instinctively retreating into himself to avoid pain, and in doing that the only result was feeling like a coward and a fake. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t able to be himself, and nothing was fulfilling–every single day just another forward march. 

I think it comes as no surprise he took up Vlad’s initial invitation so willingly. 

But then I digress, back to the story. There’s another timeskip and it finds him racing down the hall of the mansion. He’s hoping to make it in time but knows he’s racing against the clock, and fully expects MC to be asleep by this point in the night. Midway along his path he thinks he spots MC and falters in his step, blinking. He decides to hang back, watching the figure enter his room with a great deal of curiosity and resists every urge to burst in after her. He hears MC speak into his pillow, her voice muffled but clearly despondent: “I miss you, Comte. I hope you get back home soon…” 

Comte pretty much dies right there. I literally have no better explanation for it. He freezes, his heart sputters and stops. He’s just completely taken aback. 

And then, naturally, he goes about feral with desire as is his modus operandi: “Oho, I heard something incredibly cute just now. Were you also having a hard time spending so long apart?”

MC: “…!”

[Startled, she turns around and her eyes widen and widen.]

MC: “Comte, how...”

Comte: “Took a detour in areas with less rain.”

MC: “?? Wouldn’t that still be hard in weather like this?”

Comte: “I told the coachman I wanted to see you as soon as possible. Even if it was only for a second, I wanted to spend today with you…”

[Everything I was thinking while in the carriage spills out of me long before I can help it. I am reminded again of just how utterly irreplaceable an existence MC is in my life.]

Comte: “Even so, it seems interesting that I would find you in my bed”

MC: “...! A--Ah, I’m so sorry for entering without permission!”

[I quickly grab hold of her before she can scramble out of my bed, coaxing her to sink back into the sheets.]

In between a lot of intense making out and [redacted], the larger overtone is that her reciprocated ardor just destroys him inside:

MC: “It was...because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about wanting to see you…”

Comte: “!”

[You know just how to drive me mad with desire.]

Comte: “I’m the same...the first thing I did was look for you. Even though it was only a few days, your voice, your body, everything...I missed you”

[Because today, our ‘now’--I never want to lose a single moment with you as long as you’re by my side...]

Comte: “I’m so happy to be able to be with you, right here and right now.”

It gets funny too because Comte is trying to take it slow, but when she tells him “Happy birthday” and goes on to say she was so glad to greet the day he was brought into the world by his side, he just loses all control LMFAO. It ends with them getting more heated and [redacted], to the point where he doesn’t even hear the clock strike midnight. 

And if him being the cutest and sexiest romantic wasn’t obvious enough, he spends the next morning just sighing blissfully with her in his arms:

[The next morning, when I wake up, MC is still fast asleep. I mean, given she only fell asleep a few hours ago. I’m still reveling in the afterglow of a sweet night filled with her cries, the way she looked at me and held me. MC...]

[I relax to the sound of her breathing steady with sleep, stroking gently at her hair as I hug her from behind.]

Comte: “I’ve had countless birthdays. In an endless life, I was convinced it was just a day that would come and go every time.”

Comte: “It was only after meeting you that I could understand there was no such thing as an overlapping or identical moment. I don’t want to miss a single second by your side...that’s what I think now.”

[I admit the truth of my heart, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Over and over and over again, showering her in my affection--]

But dun dun dun!!! MC was awake the whole time, so when she fidgets a little at how ticklish his kisses are, he 👁

[Oh, I see. Well then, two can play at that game...]

Comte: “Your punishment is to stay in my arms just as we are...how’s that?”

He gets his mischievous (and hilarious) revenge for being revealed (HORNY TIME), though it’s so suffused with love it’s hard to call it revenge hahaha. She reminds him to go easy on her because they have his birthday party to attend later, and he agrees~

Honestly after such killer hurt/comfort spice fluff, I can only tremble at the thought of what his 5th year bday story will be

It’s either going to be Some Angst^TM or even more killer fluff, and either way that means my days are numbered

[royalty-subway]

hey

Remember my Miitopia drawing of the twins? I talked about making a bunch of headcanons or like, just talking about my experience with the game itself. I just recently got back into this game and I have an urge to info dump my dumb stuff. ;w;

Don’t worry, I’ll only list the characters that are prevalent. Or say things that are related to the characters in a way.

So, first thing first. Our precious people:

Ingo: Cautious Thief (the 2nd member)

Emmet: Energetic Warrior (the 3rd member)

Elesa: Kind Cleric (the 4th member)

Shielbert: Laid-back Chef (the 5th member… although I feel like the laid-back personality doesn’t fit him at all-)

Sordward: Cool Imp (the 6th member)

Sonia: Kind Scientist (the 8th member)

Lady Sneasler: Airheaded Cat (… who would’ve guessed. She’s just a random Mii though, since Legends Arceus wasn’t a thing when I played this game- ;w;)

Hm… I think the Main Character should be mentioned as well, let’s call her “MC”, she’s a Stubborn Mage. The other characters are irrelevant to this post.

And now, random info dumps from me. I don’t think there'll be much spoilers of the game, but eh, I feel like if you know what the game is, you’d know what I’m talking about so… your choice.

If I had to switch their personality, I think Ingo can work well with a cool or stubborn personality (but I picked cautious- ;w;). Sordward would have a personality that pisses people off, like stubborn (but I do like the cool personality on him- ;w;). Emmet is energetic, no change there, or cool. For Shielbert… it’s hard to tell. I’ve been thinking about switching his personality with Elesa’s, but even then, the kind personality doesn’t fit him. Nothing fits him- ;w;

While for changing or choosing their jobs, Ingo would probably be a thief or mage. Emmet is a warrior (but anything would be good on him really-), Sordward would be a warrior, imp or vampire. While Shielbert… I still couldn’t think of a perfect one for him, but maybe chef or vampire.

Ingo is like, insanely protective and close to my MC, like looking after her well-being kind of deal. Maybe it’s because they behave a bit similar when it comes to “rarely showing emotions”, and like, Ingo is the second member of the group.

I mean, I feel like Ingo is sort of the second in command. Since I feel like my MC can be a sarcastic ass sometimes. She can be kind, but like, a kind silly sarcastic asshole, I suppose. Ingo, Emmet, and Sonia  are like, the smartest in the group.

… Everyone even makes fun of my MC. Not in like, a bullying way. But more like “bruh, she probably has the silliest catchphrase” and “she has a blank face” (as in, showing barely any emotions); said by people who have “Fwaheeheehoho” as a catchphrase.

Emmet likes to slap dead teammates or when people are on crack, crying or sleeping. Like, this man doesn’t stop and it’s a threat. It’s like a mission of his. Any chance he gets, he’ll definitely take it with no question. And it always works, oddly enough.

… You know when an energetic teammate tends to fall in front of an enemy to both injure themselves but doing more damage against the enemy? I swear, whenever Emmet does that, it immediately kills the enemy. And everyone be like "damn"-

Like, Emmet is insanely strong in my game. He, along with Sordward, are probably the best and the strongest ones, oddly enough. But like, Emmet is probably the most chill person in that group as well. You could tell him that he sucks and he probably wouldn’t care.

Emmet and Elesa are like, best friends in my game. I don’t ever recall them having a fight or any form of disagreement. Even Emmet and Ingo had some fights, but never Emmet and Elesa… maybe only once with Elesa and Ingo, though.

Here’s a funny thing, Elesa is very kind. Probably the nicest out of everyone. And yet, that’s her personality and she’s a cleric so-

Shielbert constantly pisses off everyone. I mean, maybe it’s because he’s a chef that burns people’s mouths with burnt food and has a laid-back personality. And he tends to piss off Ingo the most, it seems.

Like, this one time, Shielbert pissed off Ingo and asked for forgiveness. Which Ingo did forgive him. But Shielbert pissed him off again immediately. Best friends for life, am I right-

And yet, Shielbert isn’t close to anyone, really. I mean, most being Sordward maybe. But he’s not really a man that cares about things. Not even when someone dies.

Sordward constantly harasses my MC. Since uh, during battles, he constantly uses the move “Charm” on her; which rouses the teammate to action and starts attacking (while raising their MP). In fact, I don’t think he has ever used that move on anyone else. Of course… my MC, being stubborn, tells him to piss off a lot, which makes him sad-

… He also harasses Ingo and Emmet with the move “Butt Jab”; it’s explanatory, stabbing someone’s ass to make them attack the enemy, which usually does more damage… Than a lawsuit might happen after that-

For who Sordward is close to… well, it’s a mix. Like, he’s close to Sonia, my MC, and Shielbert. And he’s legit the last person to cause problems (as in, fights, unless my MC intentionally pisses him off).

But here’s the funny thing, Sonia doesn’t do much. Like, she just exists in this party for no reason at all. I think even mentioning her was a bit useless… and yet, I don’t ever recall her getting angry with someone.

Lady Sneasler is a bit new to the group. But oddly enough, she’s very close to Ingo. Like, very close. It’s like they’re looking after each other. But like, she’s also chill with Sordward so far.

… She behaves like an actual cat, if you can believe it. Like, a very chill cat that can speak human English… As mentioned, she’s new so I’m still trying to figure out more stuff about her. This is all I got so far.

So yeah, basically, my MC and Ingo are responsible leaders. Emmet is like an actual God in this game. Sordward is like that weird cool kid that wishes for attention by harassing people. Shielbert pisses people off and Elesa is the nice one. Sonia doesn’t do much and Lady Sneasler is just a cat.

… This is all I can think of as of now- ;w;

Feel free to ask me any questions (or just, wish to add anything) if you have any-

[who-ever-said-i-was-nice]

Hi! Can I ask an ikevamp request where the boys find MC's sketchbook and is filled with drawings and doodles of them? If all of the suitors is to much, then just do for Jean, Will, Theo, Mozart, Leo and Comte. Have a nice day! ^^

Bruh this is a genius idea @jeanstan . First of all thanks so much for this request and second of all of coarse I will do all the suitors. Why? Because I’m awesome. No I’m kidding, I’m literally the most clumsy, airheaded  person on this planet. Think brain fried Kaminari energy. Also I’m really sorry this took this long. Anywhooo let’s get into it shall we. Tags:      @nad-zeta​

Ilevamp suitors finding mc’s sketchbook

Comte

you where just chilling in his armchair and doodling him when sleep over took you and fell asleep

being the gentleman he is he picked you up and set you down on his bed tucking you in nicely

then he noticed your sketchbook on the armchair

not even mr. Perfect-guy can resist tacking a little peek at it

so  he just looked at the page that was already open

an there he saw a pretty good drawing of him

Comte to his brain: take a peek you said. it will be fine you said. why are you looking through it. you said.

yup he ended up going through your entire sketchbook

he then wrote a little thank you next to your most recent drawing and set it next to you.

when you saw his little note you blushed, but at least he liked it

Leonardo da sleepy

you where both just sitting in the library

you got a bit hungry so you left to get a snack but you accidentally left your notebook there

you know this guy has a thirst for knowledge and that includes figuring out what’s in your notebook

he will pick it up and flip it open expecting to see notes or random drawings

nope nope he sees a bunch of drawings of him with notes like * damn that smile owns my heart* or * UUUUUUH why is he so annoyingly adorable*

This guy has the biggest smirk plastered on his face. when you come back into the room

“ I didn’t know I was annoyingly adorable Cara mia”

cue you turning tomato red

Napoleon

you where sparring ( or where watching the boys spar whatever fits)

after a few rounds you decided to get a drink and offered to bring drinks for the boys too

Jean excused himself and went to the bathroom and Leon was left alone

now your sketchbook was already just on the ground next to your hoodie

he didn’t touch it ‘cause he’s nice, but now..

he decided to take a peek

and he saw a sketch of him sparring

he flipped through it and found more pictures

him sleeping, him laughing, him teaching the kids the best thing that would describe him in this moment that meme: mha heart mah soul

and you catch him with the notebook in his hands

he just walks up to you and hugs you

Isaac

little bean

he stumbles across it by accident, literally stumbles

you dropped it and he tripped on it

he’s like the f is this?

he picks it up and opens it

oh my Lord

he’s as red as an apple ( pun intended😏)

there are a bunch of doodles of him some where he’s holding Harry, some where it’s only him looking through his telescope or just off into the distance

you: Hey Isaac have you seen my...

Isaac: no I haven’t seen the notebook, idk about a notebook, what is a notebook even

poor boy

you just hug him and reassure him you’re not mad, when he mumbles an apology

Jean

precious bean yes Isaac, Jean and Vincent are all beans. COME @ ME

so you carried that notebook around everywhere you went and while he is not as attentive as Arthur he still noticed

so when you left your notebook in his bedroom after bringing him breakfast he couldn’t resist the urge to take a peek

when he sees a bunch of drawing of him he’s..torn

on one hand he’s moved and is actually happy that you drew him on the other he doesn’t understand why you would want to draw someone as impure as him akgkgakgskgfau LOVE HIM PLS

when you come back into the room you panic a little ‘cause he’s staring at it with a blank expression

but then he apologizes and your panic melt away

he ask you why you drew him and you if play the “because I love you” card he will be shocked and happy and confused and surprised...( the list is so long A decided it would be best to just ad an etc. over here)

you hug him and reassure him he is important and you love him

Arthur

ok so he knew that the sketchbook was important to you right of the bat

being the annoying sweet person he is he decides to pester you more then ever

“ Whatcha got there Luv?” “It’s my notebook” “Can I see what’s inside” *flashes a severely annoyed look* “Arthur this is the 7th time today and i have the same answer. No.” “ Oh come on doll it’s just a peak” “It is closed for a REASON!”

Yeah you might have snapped at him a little but his ho guy ain’t giving up

so of coarse when you leave your notebook in his room he will act like he didn’t notice until you leave and then he will scramble out of his chair and nab the notebook

he opens it expecting a diary or just a bunch of notes only to come face to face with a bunch of pictures of him

he’ll raise an eyebrow and keep looking until he finds a very beautiful and realistic drawing of him sleeping with Vic and he looses his shit

he’ll run to you and pull you back into the room to cuddle and tell you how much he loves you no he’s definitely not crying

you don’t get what’s happening until he tells you he saw your drawing and you will turn slightly pink but honestly you just can’t be mad

Mozart

ok so we all know that when he finds this notebook he’ll be stone-faced  

you ain’t getting no type of emotion out of this tsuntsun

that is until he’s in public

once he’s in his room oh boy

at first it’s just a hint of a smile, but it gets bigger and bigger until he’s smiling like a dork as he inspects your drawings

he’ll never admit it but the fact that you drew him really warmed his icy heart

he even finds one where he’s by a Christmas tree smiling and a little note next to it saying “I’ll make him smile like this one day”

he closes the book and puts on his stone face again and leaves his room

in the corridor he runs into you

“ Hey, Wolf?” “What do you want.” “Isn’t that my notebook?” “Yes it is.” “So why do you have it?” “....Inspiration.”

yup now he has that notebook with him on the piano and only let’s you get it back if you want to doddle in it some more

Theo

you where cooking in the kitchen, whipping up some pancakes for the brothers

Theo came in to complain that there wasn’t enough syrup on his pancake and you flashed him a death glare and told him to get some from the cupboard

as he grumbles to himself h notices your sketchbook  on the counter

and he proceeds to open it and go through it

he sees a bunch of pretty decent drawings of him and he’s surprised

he’ll act all tough but he’s really happy

“ Oi, Hondjie! What is this?” he shows you your most recent sketch. The one where he’s walking King with a faint smile on his lips.

you instantly go bright red

“ Put that down! You where not supposed to see that! There not good just put it down”

he’ll sigh and pull you into a hug

“ I like it”

Vincent

smol bean

you left it in his room and he just wanted to take a peek

and he opened it up and saw a punch of sketches of him

they even had notes like “uhh stop moving you hand” or “how can someone be this pure”

he’s moved

will go and find you and apologize for looking in your notebook and will tell you how cute your drawings are

all in all he’s a sweet little angel but like who expected  anything else

Dazai

funny how he can’t remember your name but can remember exactly were you hide the sketchbook when you can’t take it with you

yup this guy just went and took it

he has no shame

he flicked trough it and smiled to himself

the drawings where adorable and funny and he loved it

you strait up walk in on him with the sketchbook and he just smiled at you

you turn pink trying to explain why you drew them

buuuut he just twirls you around and pules you into his lap smiling and you go over the drawing together recalling happy memories  

Sebastian

did somebody say Sebastian appreciation hours

You can’t really hide anything from Sebas can you

you went out to get groceries and he was cleaning up around the mansion

you had left your notebook tucked behind one of the library shelves and as he was dusting he found it

he opened it not knowing it was your notebook

he realized soon enough though

he just starred at the pages full of drawings of him

you waked in and he just calmly put the notebook down

he asks why you drew him and you turn pink

as you try to formulate a coherent response he sighs and makes his way to you

he gently flicks your forehead and smiles

“I never said I didn’t like them”

Will

ok so lets talk about our dear yandere boy Will

you hang out a lot at his villa

usually you are accompanied by Vincent

but today he remembered he had a painting to finish and left

you offered to walk him to the gate and he gladly accepted

however you forgot your sketchbook on the dining table

William instantly noticed this and couldn’t help but take a peek

he’s shooketh

the drawing are so cute  he really likes them

you come in and he smiles at you

your kind of embarrassed because 1 you didn’t want him to see that and 2 he asked you if you could draw in front of him

“ The way thou hand moves across this paper mesmerizes me”

you turn bright red but your happy he likes it

[imlostinsantacarla]

@daydreamerneko123​ said: Hello, I wanted to make a request for a imagine involving The Lost Boys. How would the boys react to an artist reader drawing them in secret? Due to their shyness and the fact they are just too freaking hot to confront. 🙏 Please and thank you

(a/n: hey lovely! thank you so much for requesting this, as well as for being so patient with me. it took me awhile but i finally got there. sorry that these are shorter, but i hope that you enjoy them nonetheless! - admin kat 🌙❣️)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Lost Boys x Artist Reader Drawing them in Secret Headcanons:

David:

° Being the observant type, David was acutely aware about your little hobby, along with his observant tendencies, he also read your mind. He’s an incredibly smug shit about it and the entire fiasco definitely inflates his ego considerably.

° In order to mess with you, he will remain in the same position for awhile and when you look up to reference him once again, he’s got a cigarette hanging breathtakingly from the side of his simpering mouth, blonde brows raised innocently and in utter humor.

° An immediate sense of embarrassment courses through you, resulting in you dropping your sketchbook rather clumsily.

° That’s when this cobra strikes, stepping from his prized bike and coming over to pick up your sketchbook with such nimble swiftness that it leads to your head spinning wildly.

° David is such a dick about it as well, because instead of returning the sketchbook like a gentleman, he’ll thumb through to pages to find not only one sketch of him, but several!

° Oh, it’s on! He’s teasing the hell out of you until there’s no tomorrow. All in good fun though! David doesn’t want to see you cry... at least not yet.

° “You know, you’re not half bad, actually. But I think you’ll enjoy the real thing much better.”

° This fucker w i n k s afterwards, just like the suave bastard he really is.

° David will flirt with your relentlessly afterwards. You won’t escape from his smooth words and his luscious leathery touches. You’ve peaked his interest after all.

° Prior to this specific occurrence having played out, he had dropped hints that he knew but when you picked up on them, he’d act entirely oblivious, which only confused you further and entertained him profusely.

Dwayne:

° Oh, silent Dwayne with the observant eyes of a hawk! His observant qualities had seriously downgraded themselves in this instance, your form hunched over a sketchbook having gone entirely over his head. It’s safe to say that it literally took him f o r e v e r to figure this one out.

° In fact, Paul had to tell him. Paul! Which honestly indicates something rather big here. Marko and David never let Dwayne live that down. And of course, Paul got teased in the process as well.

° Ignorantly, Dwayne had always assumed you had been drawing the scenery around you. It never occurred in his head that he could ever peak enough interest in someone to become a subject of art. Bruh, has he even seen himself???

° Though now he’s a little a lot curious and he wants to approach you about it.

° So like a slinking panther, he patiently observes and waits for you to look at him, and once you do, he s m i r k s the Big Shit™ and just says nothing!

° Due to your ample amount of embarrassment, you avoid looking up at him for quite some time, though once you deem it to be safe to take a peak, he’s disappeared into thin air, though his buddies are gawking at you like savage simpering wolves.

° “Is that me? That’s pretty good.” A deep voice blossoms in your ear, cold air causing gooseflesh to speckle across your skin like wildfire.

° You have never quite screamed at such a sheer volume than you had in that very moment, my god! And Dwayne couldn’t help but laugh, the other boys cackled wildly from a distance. Though Dwayne wasn’t poking fun at you at all: Yes he found this rather amusing, but he also wasn’t sure how else to respond. But he found it adorable nonetheless.

° With your permission, he goes through your sketchbook, because he’s a Gentleman™!

° As he thumbs through your sketchbook quietly, he discovers one of Laddie and himself, which makes him grin like an idiot! He evens asks if he can keep it, and keep it he does.

Paul:

° One thing that Paul isn’t is observant. Often things like this go straight over his head, though the only reason he noticed your secret sketching sessions of him was because he was checking you out first in all honesty.

° Curiosity practically bounds through his undead veins, mixing that with the his lack of shyness... you’ve got yourself a dangerous concoction that often get’s this vampire into tons of trouble. This dangerous concoction of qualities leads to him coming over.

° How adorable, you’re attempting to hide your sketchbook from him! It’s too bad that he owns the most pesky nimble fingers in existence and snags the book right from you in a swoosh of bountiful laughter. You really stood no chance against him anyway.

° Your feeble attempts at snatching it back from Paul is Childish™, and in response to your embarrassment, Paul cannot hold himself back from holding it above his head and poking a little mean spirited fun at you. This is definitely Paul that we’re discussing here, so are you even surprised at this point?

° Paul lacks the polite boundaries that come along with normal social interactions; either that or he decides to just completely ignore them. So he goes through it right then and there, not being able to resist the urge to throw you flirty comments the entire time. Anything to see you get flustered.

° “I didn’t know I’d bagged myself such a hot fan girl!”

° “At least you got my good side!” Does he really have a good side with that bedhead?

° “Hey, you think next time you could paint me like one of those French Girls?”

° “I can get naked if you want?”

° Paul adores just how shy and flustered you become about it, it provides him with entertainment after all. He’s kind of an ass.

Marko:

° Marko is swift, so it didn’t take him that long to figure out that you were drawing him. Yes, he’s usually up to no good with his best pal Paul, but he’s got incredible brains. He had just been hanging back nonchalantly and planning on how to confront you. Lmaoo what a dork!

° His infamous Cheshire Cat grin is obviously plastered all over his countenance whilst he confronts you about this. Marko is also rather suave, he’s definitely going to flirt with you the entire time this is going down. Winks galore!

° “I’m impressed. The jacket looks like the real thing.”

° Genuine inquisitiveness is activated during the entire encounter, and honestly, Marko is quite abrupt and honest: He asks you in total candidness whether you have a crush on him or not. And even though he’s being candid, you aren’t entirely sure if he’s being serious or making fun of you, because let’s be fair, Marko is rather difficult to read, especially if you’re not close to him just yet.

° “If you did have a crush on me I wouldn’t be complaining.”

° In all honesty, this only gives him more ammunition to flirt with and tease you: Two things that he just loves to do.

° “These are amazing. I’m so glad I no longer have to see the chicken scratches Paul calls masterpieces!”

° Marko inquires a lot on whether he can keep one of your drawings because he is also a Gentleman™, though he has acute tendencies to be a little bastard. He’s friends with Paul, after all.

° As sappy as this sounds, he honestly becomes your biggest fan. The other boys rip into him about it all the time, but he doesn’t mind. You’re good at what you do and even they know it.

° “I could draw you too, but only if you go out on a date with me.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: closed!

[soft-ris]

I’m always down for a request!! Ion rly get much of those, so I’m happy to accept them anytime ^^ so hell yeah one touch starved couple coming right up 🥴 I’m so sorry this took so long btw, I was horribly busy with my assignments 😭 + I’m pretty touch starved too so we in this shit tgt bruh😭

PS. Thank you so much for reading them and I hope you always have a good time with mine and other’s ris posts╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ and pls sign here to join the Risotto religion-KSKSKKSKS

———————————————————————

Touch starved - Risotto x GN!Reader

Summary - Ris’s POV on how he’s desperate for ur touch uwu

Note - Gender neutral reader & fluff?

Warning - Kinda Not/SFW (mentions of sex)

———————————————————————

He hadn’t known when it started, or how it started, but what he did know was that he both adored and craved your touch.

With every gentle brush, every lingering caress, and every affectionate hold, Risotto couldn’t help but feel a sense of something akin to rapture, but at the same time, it felt as if it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more...he needed more.

It felt like no matter how much of skin-to-skin contact he got with you, it wasn’t enough to satiate his seemingly endless desires.

With each time you hug him so sweetly, Risotto longed for nothing more than to bask in your warmth. Not once did he want to let go, and instead, he wished to turn it into a long cuddling session with your limbs wrapped around each other, your hand carding through his hair, and his head tucked into the crook of your neck, where your scent is captured in every breath he draws.

The same applies to every gentle stroke you give to his cheek, and hand, and nape, and anywhere you could find. He so desperately desires to savour each and every single touch you give him to the point where it’s burnt permanently into his memories, and when that’s done, he craved to return all your loving caresses onto you. Showering you with all the gentleness he can muster in hopes to see you melt into his touch, just like how he melts into yours.

Even in public, when your hands aren’t connected, he feels an unease and a dull yearning. He wants to hold your hand regardless of the place and context. He wants to delight in the comforting way of how your palms fit together, and the sweetness of lacing his fingers with yours. He wants to pepper it with kisses when the urge arises. He wants to hide his smiles behind your hand when you do something adorable in his eyes. He wants to swing it goofily to get a giggle out of you — and all this is coming from a man who’s disdained towards PDA.

Don’t even get him started on when it comes to fucking and making love to you. Every inch of your naked skin against him as he drives himself in and out of your clenching heat, all the marks and scratches and bites and opened-mouth kisses and—

Risotto didn’t think this was how he’d be feeling, so starved and eager for your touch, but he’s more than fine with this because he knows you have it just as bad as he does.

[flopsypast]

Lately I've just been so unmotivated to do anything. I've come to the conclusion that I might be emotionally numb at the moment. But I do wanna share somethings that I was working on and I think I will never continue on them in the future.

A lil checkpoint for where I am and how I am currently.

The Lucid Dream Comic

For the first time I had a lucid dream and was able to force myself to wake up. It was an embarrassing school dream so escaping from such a dream in such a way was amazing! The comic stopped simply bc I got lazy. You will see a common theme here.

Outsidein inspired thingy

I liked the album Outsidein by Swingrowers and also the cover art for it so wanted to draw sumn like that. Then my creative process just suddenly stopped. What else could I do to make this cool? Idk and I no longer cared.

Terraria Jungle

The terraria jungle biome is just so inspiring and beautiful! I always loved jungle biomes in games! So I wanted to draw it but got displeased with my art style that I was drawing the jungle with. I'm never pleased with my art style, that's why it looks different many a time before.

Sovflo Is Tired of Sovflo

Pretty self-explanatory. Not that I wanna off myself but a change in character and attitude would be great.

Conquistador

Eh. Testing and experimenting with my art style n stuff.

Tico Shmico

Again, experimenting with my art style and colors and em. Didn't stick obviously.

Bruh Cat

Bruh. A saw a really cute cat pic so I drew it. That's it.

Clown Angel

Inspired by a peep. Didn't finish bc I kept getting interrupted and me being the immature child that I am, I raged quit. Also didn't like the line art. It was, and is, unfair to just draw sumn pretty bad that was inspired by someone who is wonderfully good. I will try again tho since it's a cool idea imo.

Clown Pop Shop

I see so much potential but my misery and unmotivated self stopped working on this. One night I was like, "You know what? I got the energy! I got the time! So let's do this!!! 😎😎😎" Then felt sleepy 20 min in. I hate my attitude like oml.

So that was my showcase of wasted potential. I dunno when I will get out of this lazy and miserable feeling. Probably after I go through a mental breakdown knowing myself. Ehh idk, life is life and I'm just living it. So don't end up like me. Be emotionally repressed, letting all these emotions to build up and then fckn explode in overwhelming emotions. It is a depressing cycle.

Anyways, I hope things get better! That I get my urge to create art regained! For now, I'll be looking for ways to express emotions in a healthy manner.

[anxiousdepressedintrovert]

Otome Thursday

IT’S BRAM!!!!

Y’all, you have no idea how excited I was for this route/series to start. I wasn’t a big fan of Ravi.

ANYWAY

Bram Route

Episode 1 (The free one 😉)

-I really dig the beginning of the route.

-Like a land hidden from even the Elves? Nice

-Also also, I like that this series, Love and Legends, AND Reigning Passions all take place in the same universe and it makes sense. Unlike the more modern series where the crew just sticks characters in the stories to say “Hey, look, notice these characters”

-Sorry. I’m ranting

-Focusing now

-I named my MC Mari Rya

-She’s beautiful

-She’s got a little, sprite/fairy/thing named Ness

-I love them

-I only know the name of the new land because I played the Ravi short but it’s called Tallav

-Mari’s got a reputation as a researcher.

-But this is also a lifelong dream of hers.

-Ness doesn’t speak (what I’m going to call) English, but Mari understands her anyway

-Ness uses They/Them pronouns. RESPECT IT

-Magic time!

-Ness magic time!

-Mari can feel all the living things. I feel like that’s not a human thing.

-But I will reserve judgement

-She’s had a rune stone since she was a baby. Yeah, she’s def not human.

-Holy shit a bear!

-…with a shield and a spear on it’s back.

-Subtle

-The way these sprites move are fucking hilarious

-Mari said “Nope not today”

-Can’t out run a bear. What does this bitch do?

-Drop down to play dead. Cause that’s totally gonna stop a bear from chewing on your spleen

-the “bear” is able to turn her over to her back (duh)

-it turns into a man and…oh what a man

-this CG is so fucking cute!

-he’s like “Is she alive?”

-She’s like “the fuck is he doing?”

-I’m like “Squeeeee they’re both so stupid rn”

-Oh those eyes…

-I haven’t been this in love since Razi. Or Renzei.

-Oh no! headbutt. Gives me a headache just reading it.

-Fuck look at those abs.

-LVS really knows what they’re doing with these character designs

-And Mari’s being thirsty too. It’s not just me

-Whew chile, the way she describes this man. Girl,

-Thank you, Ness, someone has their head on properly

-Never mind. They’re just as thirsty

-I still wanna know how Mari can talk to them

-He knows she’s a human cause she’s wearing clothes. Good lord this series is gonna be a riot in the first couple seasons

-Oh Mari…you’re sounding very Colonizerish

-I don’t like that

-Though it is kinda cute how she nerds out

-I can see her doing this with any thing she comes across.

-Thank you, Ness. Time and Place Mari!

-Invasive is one word for it

-Not much to write.

-She’s gushing. He’s listening. They’re both hot

-oh no, not an eyebrow lift!

-from both of them!

-I can’t do this.

-This bitch just walks away from a question ‘cause she got caught staring!

-I can’t! This is me. Running away from all my problems

-Bram follows cause, y’know, stranger in the woods

-Bram likes Ness. It’s adorable

-Anthropologist=Skald? Maybe.

-Apparently rune reading is impossible, so is befriending a Puck (Ness)

-Mari is def not a human. At least not fully

-See, I feel like if she showed Bram the rune stone she carried with her, that would help bridge this gap.

-But y’know. Whatever.

-Oh they are two bull-headed people

-He’s got (understandable) prejudices against humans/bipeds

-She’s like “MY RESEARCH”

-I’m like “Girl, they’re living people. Respect their boundaries. And Dude, Learn a little”

- She’s very forceful with the fact that she ‘needs to do her research’

-It’s very Colonizerish and I don’t approve.

-Mari, You can’t prove that the Duke who hired you only wanted you to do pure research.

-Ha, Bram called her pretty

-Ohhh Mahuwin Villiage

-Cue Victor from Underworld: “YOU MUST BE JUDGED!!”

-damn he called her insidious

-Mari…honey. Going to a village, you’ll get to see how they live and see how the justice system works. Calm down.

-Of course, no one’s ever been so unwelcoming. You’ve been dealing with other humans and elves.

-Girl!

-I’m judging you so hard rn

-Whew chile that took a lot outta me

Episode 2

-Awww I do feel bad for Ness tho

-They’re scared too

-Bruh, Bram JUST said he doesn’t know what an anthropologist is. You barely related it to a Skald. Showing him your notes means nothing.

-Bram, dude, I get you’re supposed to protect but you’re seeing enemies in the wrong people. Though I get why you’d suspect her.

-The Dinae have no secrets between their tribes (I’m assuming) so there’d be no need for an anthropologist to go looking for old history.

-Also he called her cute (again)

-Ohkay. I draw the line at you accusing Mari of torturing Ness.

-Only a heartless monster would lay hands on Ness.

-I need you to think baby: WHYY WOULD NESS STAY? If Pucks are magical creatures, surely you don’t think that Ness would be foolish enough to stay with a powerless human.

-Oh. Don’t make me insult your intelligence

-Oh don’t make me

-Mari. Don’t do anything stupid. Please. He’s actually being nice. In a weird way. Taking you to be judged. Someone else would’ve just killed you

-Mari…you can’t do your job in someone else’s country without permission. To get permission, you need to go to a village.

-I’m starting to question your intelligence

-Oh good. The bull-headedness is back

-No shit it’s more than just a job! I think you would have gathered that from the fact that to enter Tallav you had to pass a BEAR statue

-Oh no not the sad face

-I know LVS is gonna use that face to get money out of me in future scenes

-Mari, you’re both stubborn. And if I had it my way, you’d’ve gone with him already

-MARI! HE’S NOT A SOLDIER!

-ARUGH

- Not the type of roleplay I thought I’d be reading in this story but sure. Have some hearts

-I wanna smack her so bad and the first season’s not over yet.

-Usually the urge to smack doesn’t kick in until at least season 2.

-She’s a record setter

-Uh oh Bram, you called her an interrogator.

-And he STILL doesn’t fix it!

-They’re both so rude

-Ok, so he gets the why.

-We’re making progress

-This woman can’t let her thirst rest for five minutes.

-I mean same but come on

-Ah! Progress on both sides!

-Still don’t like how forceful Mari is about her job. How would she feel if her job put people in danger?

-You kinda did Mari. You kinda did say “I’m going to do what I want anyway”

-Not in those exact words but enough

-My point!

Bram: You ever think that if we wanted to be bothered by any kingdoms, we would have officially contacted them

That’s my point

At the same time, Bram and his fellow Dinae have their fellow prejudice against bipeds. As I said, mostly justified but they act that they can’t adapt or change

-Mari, interest isn’t always flattering…we aren’t in high school

-Now she’s running away. From a guy that can turn into a bear

-I’m very much questioning her intelligence now.

-Cause she dumb dumb.

-And thus begins an infuriating game of human and bear

-Oh yeah Mari, cause you can totally break the hold of a guy WHO CAN TURN INTO A BEAR

-As Mari is kicking and screaming, Bram: Am I hurting you?

-LMFAOOOO

-Awww Ness trying to help.

-Bitch. He puts you down and you climb a tree. Like bears don’t climb trees?

-Thank you Ness for talking some sense into this stupid girl

-Why is she so defensive?!

-Why can’t they just give me the option of “Fine.” FOR ONCE

-Seriously Mari? If you had stumbled upon a village during your wandering that really HATED humans, the chances of them killing you are SUPER fucking high. Doing it this way is arguably a lot safer

-YO  WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!!

-That looked like a swamp deer  monster from It Lives Beneath

-FUCK THAT

-RUN BITCH…FUCKING RUUUNNNN

-Why is run never an option when we are clearly outmatched?

-Oh god why does it have to look at the screen!!!

-I don’t like that

-and ewwwww they did detail on the muscles

-Yeah no shit it’s targeting Mari, Bram!

-I think that’s pretty obvious!

-Thank again Ness for saving One Stupid Bitch

-We…we get to RIDE Bram?

-I can (and will) make so many jokes about that

-I’ve already restrained myself from making Bear jokes. So, you’ll deal with that

Episode 3

-Hehehehehehehhehe

-We rode him

-Hopefully this won’t be last time

-and the next time won’t be in bear form

-Ohkay. I’m back. The chapter’s loaded

-Wait one more

-And we can use that rope for something else too

-Idk how to do the lenny face so……just imagine it

-Ok. NOW I’m done.

-Finally, a decent option. THANK YOU, BRAM

-Yeah Mari get that through your thick fucking skull. He’s a defender. He defends.

-Awwww Bram isn’t comfortable with praise. I’m gonna take every opportunity to do it now

-Mari, this is why we don’t talk shit up.

-Hehe still riding him

-Ewww that thing is back.

-Plus side?

-FIGHT SCENE

-Oh nooooo Bram’s hurt

-MARI CONTROL YOUR THIRST THE MAN IS INJURED

-Thank you, Ness! I swear they’re the only character I haven’t been pissed at

-Mari begins to nerd out over plants. Honestly same

-OMG HIS BLUSH

-GUYS. HIS BLUSH

-The stuff of nightmares was an Abberation. I like my name better so it and all its freaky brethren will be called The Stuff of Nightmares

-And Bram’s back to being suspicious. Sigh. And we were having such a nice time

-The Dinae don’t have pets and that’s the saddest thing I’ve read all day.

-Mari just realized that Bram’s been naked this entire time.

-Lol

-Oh so, if Bram trusted Mari, he’d happily tell her everything she wanted to know.

-Hmmmmmm

-I certainly can’t say no to that face. So neither can you Mari. Here. Have some hearts

-See, they say fur covered thigh, all I hear is, cuddling for the winter.

-OMG SHE COULD SQUISH HIS PAW BEANS

-IF SHE DOESN’T SQUISH HIS PAW BEANS WE’RE GONNA HAVE A PROBLEM

-Mari stahp being so thirsty. There’s a stream next to you. Go dunk your head.

-Ness is adorable and I want a plushie of them

-Oh NOQOOOWW she has a problem with riding him

-…Ok, I mean…her explanation makes sense.

-See, every Dinae does it!

-Bram is so tired of her. It’s so funny

-WAIT. THERE’S WOLVERINES

-….is one’s name Logan?

-I’ll leave now

-I’m so glad they’re starting to understand each other more. Cause I was ready to jump through my phone screen.

-Things are still tense, of course.

-Wait a fucking minute. Going through a patch of brambles saved you a fucking DAY of travel? WTF

-I’m very interested in seeing how this plays out as opposed to Ravi’s route.

-Let’s meet Chieftain Mael!!

[elichorph]

word hi ok here’s some info on annie ....  uhmMmgm.... ok

stats:

full name: annaleise grace suh nicknames: annie. call them anything else and you’ll get bit age: twenty one  birthday: october 27, 1999 chart: scorpio sun / gemini moon / taurus rising gender: demi girl pronouns: they / them & she / her sexuality: bisexual & biromantic  height: 5′9 tattoos: they shamelessly have like 7 of their own little doodles tattooed really small on their right bicep and one on their ankle too piercings: three earlobe piercings on each ear, double helix on their right ear, a nose stud

blackmail: 

as a famous artist, their art was spotted by a drug ring who launders money. they willingly sell their art through the ring as a means to transport both drugs and money, taking a cut of the cash and allowing the ring’s connections to boost their fame so they’ll stay quiet about it.

they did an excessive amount of philanthropy work in their second year at the university and posed it as charity work, but actually was doing mandated community service after being charged with theft

annie's family routinely and secretly took money from the kojima family to stay afloat and only stopped once they were caught. they were sued in civil court by the kojima's because of it and lost the case, leaving the suh family near penniless.

backstory:

this is a lot and i am sorry

tw: drugs

annie had a … pretty normal childhood. seriously like, it’s bland. nothing special so i’ll keep this brief. they were born in alabama and lived there for a single year before moving and was raised in a house in hartford, ct to two loving parents. although they weren’t incredibly well off, they always made sure there was a pack of ice cream sandwiches in the freezer and clearance rack flowers on the kitchen table. annie was posted up outside of the house with chalk drawing every little thing their mind could come up with every single day even though their parents desperately wished they were inside playing with the little doctor’s kit that they got them for their ninth birthday. but no ❤️annie was determined to be an artist despite their parent’s early pleads not to be. and annie’s never been one to take signals correctly in their life so their only child ass took this as a sign to start being edgy and self absorbed, focusing so much on themselves that they kind of shut their family out and wasn’t entirely aware of potentially sketchy things their parents did to keep money in the bank account. fr they just became like ... roommates and didn’t talk. the last time they spoke was when annie needed a lawyer last year. 

in high school, annie was a weird mix of tropes. they were the weird mysterious kid in the back of your english class who went on rants about how annoying romeo & juliet and romance are and the one who was president of clubs you’ve never even heard of and the underclassman who was friends with all the scary seniors (and later became the scary senior). in their junior year, they also conveniently went viral for a series of paintings they made in ap art class. it started locally and with being kinda famous on facebook to big gallery installations that had pieces which conveniently fit the aesthetics of mansions and big buyers. seriously, fame came fast for annie and by the end of their senior year they were well known enough to catch the eye of a drug ring who offered to bass boost it all for the small price of taking part in the sales of their art so the dealers can put a couple grams of cocaine in one of their lil pottery pieces and end up with way more money than they started with. 

yale thought annie’s fame and art and obscene amount of followers on instagram was kinda sexy so they were offered a full ride and gladly accepted and sells off all of their paintings and pottery pieces they make in class because why not ❤️ so here they are. with like a million followers on their art instagram and a big ego.

and annie’s a kleptomaniac, honestly. there’s no deep backstory as to why they decided to steal a pair of diamond earrings last year besides the fact that they wanted to. thankfully the judge let them off with community service, but you bet they spun that story to their advantage as soon as they could. if you saw annie posted up on their insta story picking up trash off of the highway with a big smile and “making time to clean up our highways!” across the bottom in pretty cursive, yes you did. 

personality: 

annie’s entire personality is one big paradox and then some.

they keep their life as a ✨famous person ✨ kind of bland so people won’t know a lot about them at the surface level unless they do some research. like they’ve got a main art instagram and stuff but then a personal one that you’ve gotta search for and also just ... doesn’t do interviews or anything like that. 

annie really loves people. like they crave small talk and holding the door open for people and smiling at people when they walk by them on campus. but on a deeper level, it’s a rarity that they’re good with others. seriously, they don’t know what the word communication means. if annie has a close friend or s.o. who things work perfectly well with and things are understood, that’s probably pure coincidence. they just kind of expect to understand people and have others understand them. things probably are fine to a certain point, like making small talk with whoever whenever, but i imagine it can only go so far lmao. like when you try to get close to annie, you’ll probably get sent a 400 word text message about needing space but then the next day they’re asking you to come over for four loko friday. mixed signal realness.

and even tho they love people and being surface level and nice and all, as seen in the tragic dropping of muse i, annie is volatile as hell! sometimes they’ll be mean just to entertain themselves bc they’re bored or they just get the urge or they feel like there’s a reason even if there’s not or something ... idk you never know with them. there are sure as hell days too when they just don’t even try to be nice to others either. annie’s got a temper and they go back and forth.

they lowkey crave strict control over their image but also love it when people think about them and give them attention. like ... yes they are having a breakdown daily about the blackmailer but they also deep down are like aw <3 

there’s part of them that wants cute romance ... the pottery scene in ghost ... painting their significant other ... all of that ... but they’ve got some deep rooted issues that make them think they don’t really need anyone. that maybe nobody will love them. even though they were the one that shut their parents out, their mind Loves to twist that situation to make it seem like they could’ve tried harder to get to know annie or support her or some shit bruh idk annie is so confusing.

ok but all the bad stuff aside .... if you actually like crack their code and get to know the real annie ..... they’re like kinda genuine and cool ig. they give really good advice and are extremely thoughtful and probably will make paintings inspired by you and maybe will gift you a handmade teapot and cook you your favorite dish if you talk about it once. annie is pretty funny too and they really have no fears because they are so self assured. they are SO shameless at times, even though it hurts them a lot more than it helps them. annie spends just about any free moment they get at the art studio. they’re always zooming with either dried clay all over their hands or paint on their jeans because they probably didn’t notice the time. really love memes like these ones. constantly wears big stompy boots. i really hope u get the picture i can’t write anymore

this is a tik tok that explains them well https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJufQVbP/

and here is their pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/mcvingparts/annie/

[thehomierobbstark]

Bruh I can imagine Erik saying “Like you mean it” in that tinder voice, and staring at you with his pretty brown eyes😭😭

Shame [Prelude] // Kissing Strangers [Part I] // Communication [Part II]

[A/N: So I know when you sent this in you were probably responding to my story Kissing Strangers, but I wanted to do something else with this since so many people seemed to enjoy that story. (Uh huh, bet you thought I didn’t see this ask huh 😂). Anywho, this is part 1 of 2, so stay tuned! If yall wanna incorporate this into the K.S. Universe go for it! But there’s still a lot of development to go before this story happens.  I listened to Sabrina Claudio’s Creation (i know sis….) on repeat while writing this. Enjoy! And as always, thanks for asking anon!! ]

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shivers run down your back as he traces along your spine with a finger, sliding delicately over the bralette you wore and down to the small of your back.  He lets the rest of his fingers peek out to crawl around your skin, nails scratching lightly as he feels around the plushy flesh resting there.

Out of habit, you shrink away from his curious exploration, self conscious about the unsightly back rolls, mentally cringing at what he must’ve thought.

“Let me touch you,” he whispers against your lips, his other hand pulling you back to him, large palm gripping your thick waist with security.

Your heart flutters at the gesture, a comforting warmth emanating out from your chest, and down below.  As you look down at him with a lip tucked between your teeth, he watches you with half lidded eyes, leaning forward to tug it free and suck the juicy fold into his mouth.

Sighing contentedly, you bring your hands up to either side of his face, closing your eyes and melting into the kiss, returning it with equal fervor. Your tongues dance slowly with one another as you explore each others mouths, nipping and sucking softly until both your lips are red and swollen with desire.

Pulling back with a groan, he surveys your outfit, not for the first time that night.  Sucking in a sharp breath, he clicks his tongue with irritation, rolling it around in his mouth.

“Now you knew damn well you was wrong when you walked out the house like this.” His eyebrow twitches as he speaks through clenched teeth, the frustration he’d felt the entire evening burning like acid on his tongue.  You feel the deep timbre of his voice vibrate through your body, and his eyes flicker to yours, narrowed and concentrated. “Didn’t you?”

Inhaling a thick breath of air, you bite your lip to conceal your smirk, nodding innocently as you feel the sexual tension grow between the two of you, along with something else.

“Words.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, waiting patiently for your verbal response.

Straightening your posture, you push your hands against his lower abdomen, feeling the solid muscles there constrict, giving yourself a layer of protection in case he decided to pounce.  “Yes.”

He sniffs, nodding his head while his eyes trail down to your spread thighs on either side of his hips, feeling his gaze on your center.

“Yet, you decided to do it anyway. Why?”

You swallow thickly, resisting the urge to clench your thighs together at his aggressive interrogation.

“Because it’s cute.”  You raise a brow, holding your head high with conviction as if the answer was obvious.

Eyeing you dangerously, he reaches forward, wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing firmly until he feels your pulse race anxiously against his palm. A weak whine manages to slip past your lips, but you cut it short, seeing the threatening look behind his eyes.

“Why?” He asks you again, eyebrows raised expectantly for the correct answer this time.

Licking your lips, you open your mouth, and he gives your throat a warning squeeze, daring you to lie to him again before loosening his grip.

“Because I knew it would get to you.” Your words are breathy, heart skipping a beat at your foolish confession.

He leans forward, a smile curling its way onto his lips as he drops the hand around your neck to trace the lines of your collar bone, following it with his eyes.

He places a kiss to your shoulder.

“Do you like teasing me, Miss Y/L/N?”

He places another kiss right above it, your skin growing increasingly sensitive with each touch.

With your words caught in your throat, you move to shake your head, but a sharp smack to your ass makes you gasp, stopping you in your tracks.

You glance down to find those same insidious eyes watching you again, eager for another mistake as he continues lacing kisses up the side of your neck.

Clearing your throat, you find your voice again, speaking with a shaky breath.  “No.”

“Hm?”  You can feel his soft breath tickling your skin, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention from the close proximity. He was torturing you now.

Closing your eyes, you try again, this time with more certainty.

“No.”

With his lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he whispers into it, his icy tone sending a chill down your back.

“Wrong answer.”

The air feels as though it thins around you, your breaths becoming shallow as you wait with trepidation for whatever was about to come.

You chance a peek at him, eyes wide and silently pleading for him to have mercy on you, to give you one more chance to get it right.

Bringing his face up to yours, he stops a hair’s breadth away from you, your nose tickling from the closeness, and you feel your stomach sink as you watch his sweet brown eyes turn cold.

You feel a popped tug at your pants and the zipper on your jeans being pulled down as the cool air in the car begins to touch your lower half.

“Take these off.”

Grabbing your bottom with a handful of meatiness in each hand, he lifts you up, placing you off to the side onto the seat next to him. Scooting himself towards the door, he rests back cooly with one leg bent at the knee on the seat, the other on the floor.  His left arm lays behind the headrest, the other in his lap, fingers twitching around the aching mass between his legs.

With the small distance between you, you feel as though you’re center stage, and the intrigued look on his face as his eyes rake over you let you know that he’s ready for the show.

You take in a deep breath, chest filling with nervous butterflies that flutter away as you exhale through your nostrils.  Hooking both thumbs into the rim of your pants at your waist, you slowly push them down off your tummy, stopping to instinctively pull your underwear back up over the soft pudge.

“Don’t.”  His deep voice stalls you in your movements, and you release your tug on your panties, the thin material snapping back against your skin.

Looking into your eyes, with a small nod he silently commands you to keep going, and you continue pushing the material down, pausing to lift yourself as you work it up and over your hips.  As more of your chocolate brown skin is revealed, he licks his lips, swallowing down the collection of saliva that pooled in his mouth at the sight of you.

You keep your legs together as you finish shoving your jeans down the rest of the way, bending your knees and tucking each of your feet back as they’re freed to cover the view of your crotch.

Balling up the dark denim, you toss it over into the trunk of the car, straightening your legs out on the seat to their full length, your chubby socked feet stopping just before his crotch.

Running his thumb up the side of your sole, he takes one foot in his hand, slowly peeling the thin silk from around your ankle, revealing your cute black pedicured toes as he pulls it off. He does the same with the other foot, folding the socks into one another before tossing them over his shoulder to join your jeans in the back.

Rolling his thumbs into the sole of your right foot, he massages the soft skin, the tickling feeling making you arch and squirm in your spot.  You can feel the wetness in between your legs grow with each firm knead, and when he presses the nail of his thumb into the base of your heel and draw up, your body shudders at the sensation, closing your eyes to keep him from seeing them roll into the back of your head.

Chuckling at your reaction, he brings your foot up to his mouth to softly kiss the pad of your big toe, working his way down the line of appendages as he holds them against his lips. His tongue snakes out to suck on your pinky toe, but you snatch your foot back before he can make contact, a  devilish snicker filtering out from him as a full blown grin spreads his lips, touching the corners of his eyes.

You pull both your legs back and wrap your arms around your knees protectively, too distracted by the irritatingly beautiful smile painted on his face to roll your eyes at him like you wanted to.

“Where you think you going? Get back over here,”

He chews his lip as he glances down at your shielded legs, beckoning you back over to him with a hooked index finger.

When you refuse to move, his smile fades, face morphing back into the dark demonic look that you were becoming accustomed to seeing.

He stares you down with a testing look, but you don’t budge an inch.  If he wanted you, he was gonna have to come get you.

Slowly leaning forward into a menacing crouch, he balances the weight of his upper body on the palms of his hands, beginning a steady crawl towards you. The muscles in his back undulate with each stride, the rolling of his shoulders reminding you of that of a jaguar on the prowl.

You reach behind you to drag yourself away from his sauntering presence, but your hand hits the door, and your stomach sinks at the realization that there’s no where else for you to go.

As he reaches your legs, he wraps one large palm around your calf, gripping it and tugging you towards him forcefully, causing a frightened yelp to escape your lips.

Your back falls flat against the seat, and you see his large frame above you, peering down at you like you’re his helpless prey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Pre smut, Corniness, Insane Cheesiness I’m sure

[whiskehorange]

BRUH can we please have some Creeper x reader DIRTY FREAKIN SMUT? Please? I beg!

You fucking bet I’m going in dirty for this freakin man MMMMM

And oh, Btw, Do you want me to do a NSFW Alphabet for him?

Creeper

Catch him while he’s attempting to work on something. He’ll seem frustrated, but it’s all that pent up need for you that he’s trying to keep inside until he finishes his work

But, if you really want him, just tease him constantly and he won’t stand a second. Bend over to pick up something, run your hands gentle across his back or up your own body, and that typical shit, and he’ll get riled up before you can even do anything else

But half of the time he can pretty much smell your drive on you from a mile away, so he’ll come running back to you. And boy, does that smell make him so damn h o r n y

You’re in for a real good time if you work him up while he’s attempting to work. You’ve interrupted his personal working time and you are gonna pay for that. Depending on what he’s doing decided just how rough he’ll be with you

Normally, Creeper is pretty rough, due to just the primal urge to just.... go at it. But, however you want it is how you’re gonna get it

He’s handsy, needing to familiarize himself with every inch of your body, leaving subtle but many marks on you as his way of marking his territory

Speaking of marking, he’s a biter. His preferred position is taking you from behind so that way he can free range of your back, your hair, and your shoulders. He’ll lean down and gently put his face into your neck before making his way down to your shoulders and leaving bite marks. Enough to draw a bit of blood, but not too deep

Maaaassssiivveeee Breeding kink. Like, he wants a fucking household of little creepers running (or flying) around. Unless you say other wise, this man will push his face into your neck and bury himself deep inside of you once his climax arrives

As for stamina? He can last almost all night. His energy is through the roof and hearing you moan out for him only makes it increase. The louder you are, the longer he goes

Quick little fact, I firmly believe his dick is straight ribbed. Like you seen the texture of his shoulders and body? It’s gotta be down there too. So, if that doesn’t drive you wild then I don’t know what will

He can’t help himself with you either, pace wise. Yeah being slow and sensual is a nice, in the moment, experience, but you really have no idea what it’s like for him to see your body splayed out underneath him. He literally cannot control himself and has to completely ravage you

Okay now for the fun part. Let’s talk about those hands as well as the tongue. It’s like a fucking snake and oral from him? Absolute heaven I’m telling you. That tongue can twist, turn and curl in ways you never thought were possible. Add a few of his fingers and you might just have to tap out

[meat-husband]

Thomas Hewitt - Alphabet Ask Meme

I’m hoping to start doing requests on this blog, so I thought I would start up with the alphabet ask memes as a sort of intro! I figure all the letters get asked eventually, so I’m just doing all of them in one go. There will be one of these posted for each character I’m writing.

I have a page with what and who I write for here. 

Both the NSFW and fluff alphabet asks are under the cut!

NSFW Alphabet

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

Most of the time you’ve both got to get back to your household duties, but a few minutes spent being held and catching your breath won’t be missed. If there’s nothing pressing, you best believe there is gonna be some napping in the cool, dark basement, sprawled out in the little corner he’d made into a bed.

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

The only part of himself he really judges aesthetically is his face. He doesn’t give much thought to the rest of himself in terms of appearance, so long as he can do the work that needs to be done.

This is sort of specific but - he loves that little bit of pudge that sticks out over thigh high socks, that’s good shit.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn’t really care about where it ends up, until he gets ‘the talk’. Once he knows how to put a baby in you, it goes inside no matter how much you whine about the mess he makes.

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

Absolutely watches you without your knowledge for quite a while. He climbs up to the attic to peek through the floorboards, waits in dark rooms to look through the crumbling walls, hides behind the basement door and watches you through the peephole - once you get together he stops being sneaky about it, but even then you’re going to turn around to find him suddenly looming over you multiple times a day.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Honestly, it would be better if he had none. As it is, his uncles have taught him whatever they think he might need to know (his mama’s contribution amounted to ‘no hussies’ and ‘wait till marriage’). Once they see he might actually have someone interested, you better believe they crank that shit up to eleven. When you get ahold of him you’ll have to… reword some of the things he’s been taught. It’s not all wrong, mostly just vulgar.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9EgA2VzQFRA

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s usually pretty fucking intense tbh. Rough hands, snarls, hair pulling - he’s used to using his strength for just about everything, this is no exception. Early morning, sleepy Tommy is a different thing, though. Despite waking so early everyday he is not a morning person so you’ve gotta take charge. Warm him up with some snuggles beforehand and you’ll set yourself up for something a little slower and sweeter than usual.

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

Bruh. Have you seen this man. I am nearly certain the closest thing to a shower he���s seen in a while is getting sprayed down with the hose outside. At any given moment he’s either covered in sweat, blood or both.

He will always wash his hands before dinner though, Mama didn’t raise an animal.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He doesn’t put much thought or effort into romantic things, but that doesn’t mean he’s not affectionate. He’s very shy about touching, so you know the small pat on your head or the crooked smile you see when you reach for his hand are more meaningful than they might be to others.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Tommy goes through phases of denying himself things he needs/wants, especially when there is a lot of tension in the house or he’s feeling particularly shitty for whatever reason. Usually it’s food and rest he ignores, but pleasure is something he’d deny himself as well.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

So, obviously, breeding. That’s always going to be his number one, but taking it a step further, it’s going to drive him crazy when you actually get pregnant. He’s still going to have the urge to fill you up, even when you’re already full, and knowing he’s going to have to wait so long to do it again riles him up. You won’t even be showing yet and he’ll be ready to put the next one in you.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Technically, he has a bedroom upstairs but he doesn’t sleep there often. A few wooden pallets stacked in the corner and topped with an old mattress has served as his bed in the basement and it’s where he’s most comfortable now. That being said, he hasn’t really grasped that sex is usually a private thing. If you’re in the kitchen, on the porch, anywhere really, when the mood strikes him, he’s just gonna go ahead put his hands under your skirt. Hoyt thinks this is hilarious and no amount of furious, red faced scolding is convincing Tommy that this is not how to let you know he needs you. Of course, it only had to happen once in front of Mama for him to learn that that shit ain’t gonna happen when she’s around.

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

Sweet things, like soft touches and warm kisses, will always get him riled up. He’s not used to being treated gently, so he will eat that mushy, lovey-dovey shit up. Shy smiles, cuddling on the couch, hand holding - truly he is a deviant.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that might draw blood, like knife play or biting. He’s rough, but he’s not trying to hurt you. A few bruises here and there are alright, but anything more is too much.

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

He likes blowjobs when he’s tired or sleepy, but he won’t hesitate to get rough and put you in your place if you try to get him to finish in your mouth - that’s not gonna happen. He will always reciprocate unless you tell him not to, but he’s not very skilled. The mask tends to get in the way a bit and you can’t tug on the hair the way you’d like without pulling it out of the skin. It’s one of his favorite things though, and that enthusiasm makes up for what he lacks in knowledge. Sometimes you think he enjoys it more than you do, desperately holding your hips in place and moaning, open-mouthed, between your legs.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Tommy’s always on the rougher side, with deep, slow thrusts that hit hard. He likes bottoming out and grinding against you, pushed in as far as he can and desperate to go deeper.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Honestly, he’s not got a preference either way as long as you’re both getting off in the end.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Whatever you want to show him, he’ll try. He’s not got many ideas of his own in terms of experimenting, so you can always tell when something he does or wants has been suggested by his uncles.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He puts all his effort into the first go, so unless it’s a quickie, he’s probably tapped out after that. If you really want a round two though, he will not pass up the opportunity to eat you out and it’s a surefire way to get him going again.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not in Mama’s Christian, god-fearing household, no sir! (you know Hoyt has some shit he’s kept from the cars and luggage he brings in, only because he’s offered you and Tommy first dibs whenever he comes across something. You’re not sure if he’s serious or just wants to see your face go red - probably both tbh).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If you let him, he’ll skip foreplay all together and get straight to it, so he’s not much for teasing. On the other side of it, teasing him works a little too well - push your luck and you’ll end up bent over the nearest piece of furniture, whether or not someone else is using it.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Everybody in the house knows when you’re getting dirty because Tommy will not. Shut. Up. For not being able to speak, he’s amazingly loud and clearly has no shame.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

Tommy snores, loud, like a plane engine backfiring. Everyone else has learned to tune it out, but that’s hard to do when his face is right next to your ear.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

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

Tommy’s ready to go anytime tbh, if he didn’t have so much work to do around the house you’d spend a lot more time in bed.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you’re in bed, pretty much instantly. Of course, if you need something, like more blankets or a glass of water, he’ll be happy to get you taken care of before drifting off. Otherwise he’s pretty diligent about getting back to work, and making sure you do too.

Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Soft hands, unworn from rough work, that reach for him at the end of the day, and even softer kisses pressed against the corners of his mouth and eyes and anywhere his own skin shows behind the masks. He wants that Soft Shit™.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He’s not really been brought up with the expectation of continuing the family name simply because no one expected him to be able to. Of course that changes once he’s got a willing partner and Tommy always wants what his family wants. He’s going to have no idea what to do with a baby, but the combined praise from his family and you will have him ridiculously proud of himself when it happens.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Half on top of you, face buried into your neck and snoring is the normal position. Hair petting is a must, it helps him fall asleep. When it gets really hot he’ll give you more space, but even if you start out on opposite sides of the bed you’ll always wake up with him practically on top of you. Makes getting up to pee really difficult tbh.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

There’s not much to do that would make a traditional date with Tommy. He’ll take you on evening walks past ruined homes and barns, listening to the dogs and coyotes yipping in the pastures. Sitting on the warm porch, his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair as you read out loud. Short joy rides in the cars of strangers, before they’re taken to the old mill to rot.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

Family.

It’s always been the most important thing to him and becoming a part of that family isn’t an easy thing to accomplish. The others would accept you into the fold much more quickly compared to Tommy. He trusts his family completely and giving that kind of power to someone new isn’t easy for him so when it happens everyone knows it’s a big deal.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

It’s gonna hit him all at once and pretty early into knowing you. He’s going to be very suspicious of how nice you are, but it won’t take long for him to figure out you’re being genuine when you say those nice things to him.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

It doesn’t come to him naturally most of the time so he tends to overcompensate. He’ll be extra careful with you physically, but he also keeps and eye on what you’re doing throughout the day. You can totally lift the laundry basket yourself, but he’s going to do it for you anyways.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Okay, hand holding is Tommy’s jam. Mama thinks it’s sweet and has forbidden Hoyt from teasing either of you (he’s only barely holding back tbh). Usually you’re the one to reach for him, but if you take too long or aren’t getting the hint he’ll take the initiative. He’s shy about it, brushing his hand against you, hooking his pinky with your own timidly before finally sliding his hand over yours. He will absolutely not be able to make eye contact for a good five minutes afterwards, but he ain’t letting go either.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Suspicion. Whether you were dinner turned hostage or something else, Tommy doesn’t like or trust outsiders. Even when his family starts to warm up to you he’s still ready to drag you into the basement at a moments notice. He’s probably the most surprised out of everyone when you end up fitting in so well.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Tommy is jealous of pretty much every man that gets dragged into the house. Hoyt might like to mess with them first, but he’d rather get them into the basement as quickly as possible. It doesn’t matter what they look like, he’s under the impression that anyone is a step up from himself, so he’s not taking the chance. You’ve caught on that he doesn’t like you around them, at least, so you make things easy and keep out of the way.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Tommy is absolutely not going to make the first move when it comes to kissing. It takes quite a while for him to get used to touch in general, but his face is still a sensitive area, even with the masks. You would have to ease him into it. He’d be okay with quick pecks on the cheek of his mask right away and maybe you could catch him off guard with a sneaky kiss on the lips. If you want sloppy makeouts, you’ve got some work ahead of you. Once he does come around to it he’s still hesitant and you would have to start it, but he’s pretty firm about keeping the mask on for smooches.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He can’t say it out loud, but he thinks it first. Kindness is the way to Tommy’s heart and unfortunately it doesn’t take much after so long without it. He’ll have a crush way before you start thinking the same. Once you’re together he doesn’t have a way to say ‘I love you’ in particular, but he’ll always give you a response when you say it, so you know he’s saying it back in his own way.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

Even though he’s not much of a morning person, he always wakes up before you. His favorite moments are in the early morning, before the sun has even risen, when you’re still asleep and he can hold and touch you, with hours left before either of you has to get up.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?) So, there’s not much for Tommy to spoil you with, but he tries. Clothing and jewelry from the meat that’s brought in are the most common gifts, but he’s always on the lookout for sweets and candies hidden in cars and purses to bring back to you.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

He thinks of red, the color of the bright, tacky shorts you were wearing when his uncle dragged you out of the cruiser, screaming. Your hands and knees were red too, scraped and bleeding, and he still feels guilty looking at the faded white scars.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Well obviously Tommy can’t really express any pet names verbally and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to use them anyways. I do love the idea of his partner calling him Bubba as a pet name though, and you had better believe Hoyt is teasing the fuck out of you both for it, no matter what Mama says. Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Pretty much everything they own is non-modern, even by the standards of the 70s. Most of it belonged to previous Hewitts and anything new is most likely from some unfortunate traveler. Tommy has always liked using the old sewing machine though, even when he was little and didn’t cover his face. Now he’s skilled enough to repurpose the clothes and belongings that get brought in, besides making his masks.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Rainy days aren’t much different from sunny ones if there’s work to be done. The winter rains are something he enjoys, just because it’s a nice change from the usual heat. He gets tired of it quick though, especially when the flooding keeps travelers away and there’s no new meat to look forward to. It’s nice to have a few slow days but he needs to work, to be productive and take care of the family, and it makes him restless not having his usual duties.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Seeing someone he cares about hurt or crying would upset him and he might curl around you, whining, but he doesn’t know what to do when he’s upset, let alone how to comfort someone else. It’s likely to get him more agitated than you are, and the only thing he knows to do when he’s hurting is get angry. He’s not got much of a temper usually, but any sort of distress will set him off, scratching and biting at himself, or worse.

He also doesn’t take comfort very well when he’s upset. Depending on the situation it’s best to leave him to himself, until he’s calmed down on his own. Attention and fussing will only make him angry and nervous. If he gets too bad then Hoyt can usually reign him in, and luckily you’ve never found out what happens when he can’t.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

He doesn’t speak, but once you get used to his body language it’s not hard to communicate at all. It’s easiest when he can respond to something you say or ask, but he’s not going to play charades to get his point across. If it can’t be said with a few grunts or pointing then it’s not getting said.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

It’s often Hoyt and Mama who make dinner, so you, Tommy and Monty will wait in the living room, watching TV until it’s time to eat. He’ll listen to you and Monty arguing over the remote, drown out the noise of the old Western you finally settle on and nap on the couch with you curled into his side. V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Usually he’s not much for showing off, but that changes when you’re around. Usually it’s when he’s helping you around the house - sure, he didn’t need to lift the entire goddamn table over his head for you to sweep under, but it worked, didn’t it?

W = Wedding (When, how?) It’s not so much a wedding as a big family dinner. It’s really more for Mama’s sake, since she can’t give you a traditional wedding like she’d want. Henrietta and her family come up to the house for the occasion and you spend all day in the kitchen, cooking with the older women. Tommy sticks around for the food, but he’s in and out after the eating is done. Most of the evening is spent around the cluttered table or out on the porch, listening to stories and receiving not-so-subtle hints about grandchildren.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Tommy really doesn’t like music, at all. He doesn’t mind the old radio playing in the kitchen, or the TV, but he won’t use them himself. He will listen to the news every once in a while, but he only puts it on for white noise when he’s sewing or working upstairs.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

As far as he’s concerned, you already are married. There’s no rings (unless you want one, in which case he’s got a collection in the basement) or ceremony, but he sees it as more of a promise between the two of you. You’re already family and that’s about as official as the Hewitts get.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

He’s not much for animals really. The family keeps chickens and pigs when they can, but they’re meant for meat and eggs. The feral dogs in the fields come around sometimes to get scraps and bones and he’s been around cattle for most of his life, but he doesn’t see a reason to keep a pet. Animals have uses, like people do, and that’s the only reason he’d keep one around.

[le-petitmort]

Part II – This thing is about to be a thing

In one-point-four seconds I came to the realization that I am quite literally…the dumbest motherfucker ever. First, I never got her digits. Second…I never got her digits. Disgraceful. Where was my situational awareness? It was akin to a scrawny defender putting pressure up court on the opposing team’s guard, not paying attention and running smack dab into a pick set by a seven foot chiseled like a bronze formed by the hands of Donatello, NBA center. Basketball metaphors…get used to them.

Anyway, it knocked the wind out of my sails. The reason being is that I had formulated this grandiose plan for her to make the first move beyond the first move. To engage the conversation. Open the forum. Get the small talk out the way. Allowing me to pitter patter and tiptoe my way past the threshold of awkwardness and straight to the glory road of getting to know her intimately.

By intimately, I’m not talking about straight to boom, boom, out go the lights carnal skullduggery complete with passionate wet kisses, heavy petting and cock to pussy communication. I was angling for dinner first. Not wine, dine and sixty-nine dinner either. I had it built up in my head that I was going to treat this one like a lady. Later on, I could whisper filthy invitations in her ear that would make her coo, as my hand deftly slid up her thigh towards paradise. Getting to that point would be the hard part. Or maybe not.

Maybe, I had put this particular pussy on a pedestal. Perhaps she was a cum guzzling cock whore who jumped bed to bed trolling for fat cock in the ocean of fuckery that is Brooklyn?

Mayhap, she was one of those chicks who secretly delved into her passionate side by stroking the kitty by the light of her iPhone to kinky images on tumblr. Trolling for virtual cock with selfie side boob action, a toothy smile of seduction and a user name like…say…wantonbabygirldreamsandtequilamemories.

Perchance, all that was completely off base and she was raised right by her parents. A pristine catholic girl with of heart and mind of gold, devout in her love of our lord and savior Jesus Christ who would be spending good Friday getting ashes thumbed on her forehead…or whatever it is Catholics do on that religious day. I’m agnostic so, I have zero idea and I highly doubt she’s Ms. Goodytwoshoes since I had already noted in passing that she likes a smoke and a cocktail in the evening. Plus, she wears those fancy stocking that scream “unwrap me Daddy and see the present beneath”.

Let’s get back on point. This is how much I’ve thought into her. The epitome of pussy on a pedestal syndrome. Now, we’ve had an actual conversation. Albeit, a very short conversation. Brevity is sometimes good…except when you don’t get the digits.

The face to face was going to have to happen. Overcoming my fear of ineptitude and delving into my inner rico suave. A little more toned down though, than an unbuttoned white shirt to the navel, smooth talking lothario schtick. But, more than simply me. Yep, this girl has me all sorts of fucked up.

You’re probably wondering, “what’s with all the self-loathing, dude?”. I admit it’s got to be a bit of a turn off so, here’s the back story. No, I am not a virgin who sprawls across the couch in my jockey’s eating flamin’ hot Cheetos whilst penning dirty poems to lewd images on tumblr under a username such as…bigdongdaddysearchingforhootchiecocksluts. I’m also not the kind of man who walks into a room, drawing in beautiful, leggy, big busted vixens like steel to a magnet. I’m somewhere in the middle.

A relationship failure who gets too wrapped up in his work. Which can come off as neglectful to a significant other. But, I’ve had a plan since I was eighteen that I’d be retired on a beach in Mexico by the time I was forty, with my gorgeous wife and two adorable children playing in the sand as I sip a corona and reminisce about all the good times.

You see, I like plans. I don’t like flying by the seat of my pants. Life is analytical. Meant to be linear with a point A, B, C and onward. Peaks and valleys are for the weak. Which is why, when I first spied my dream girl promenading down the crooked sidewalks of Williamsburg, I stopped the initial urge to go in for the kill and went with formulation of a process. Fucking up in love multiple times will do such things to a man.

The plan was off though, for now. I wasn’t going to be able to slap another ”call me, maybe” note on her morning coffee to pique interest. That was already done. Mutual admiration and quite possibly mutual eye fucking were already in play. She had said it herself! Not so much in those words. But, I’d been noticed. How had I not noticed her noticing me? I really am daft at this shit…or maybe I need a lightning bolt of confidence in my life?

Is this moment it? Is that all I needed was the knowledge that there was a connection from across the room that I hadn’t felt? Was there truly distant simpatico? Was kismet closer than the vacuum of my unsure, fearful mind? Do we already have a thing for each other?! Holy fuck. These are the questions whirring in my head at 5 AM. Just like the ceiling fan spinning full speed above my bed. I’m one hundred twenty miles an hour of jubilation and angst. As much as I pride myself on a linear lifestyle, I climb to the mountain summit and hurl myself into a canyon of doubt with every passing second spent thinking about her.

I can hear the city coming to life. The traffic beginning to snarl. The metal clank of bodega doors rolling open. A single bird stationed on it’s perch singing.

I should be ambling into my office, coffee cup in hand starting my so-called work day. Instead I’m counting the minutes before I jump in the shower, clean up and go finish business with my future paramour. Yes sir, I’m forcing myself to project a dose of swagger. Laying here, mean mugging like an NBA power forward who just euro-stepped his way to a thundering game-changing dunk. I’m a winner, baby! Shelve that pitiful shit, bruh. You da man! Get fuckin’ fired up!

Which is why I basically pimp walked my way to the coffee shop when the time came for action. Outfit: casual. A hoodie from my alma mater, jeans with a strategic knee rip, green Nike air force ones on my feet. I popped straight through the shop door towards the familiar blonde at the counter like I owned the place. Ya boy iz in da house! Woof, woof, woof!

“Large straight black and a skinny latte, please.” I winked, expecting she’d question why I was getting two drinks instead of one.

She went straight to brewing and giving me the inflated total. “Twelve even. Name, please.” Ok, babe, maybe you don’t understand that lives are about to change in mere minutes. A whole cosmic galaxy is about to open up. Astronomers like Neil Degrasse Tyson will be talking about the cavalcade of stars falling out of the sky because two lips met at an overpriced local coffee shop in Brooklyn. Guess I’m getting ahead of myself there.

“Stephen…with a P.” I responded.

Apprehension and giddiness course through me. Giddiness seems unmanly but, my excitement isn’t. I’m bouncing heel to toe as our drinks magically appear before me. I check my phone one last time. Knowing her punctuality, we are currently at T minus 2 minutes and counting. Ps. I am not a stalker…to reiterate.

I grab the steaming drinks and fly towards the door, nearly tumbling over a shorty with her nose buried her phone. No time for apologies, I must nail down a cozy table on the sidewalk. I want this first meeting to be something the entire five boroughs of New York stops in awe to witness.

But, there she is coming through the door just as I reach for it. The coffees are in one hand and I can feel them about to crash right into her. I swivel my wrist, going for the save. No fucking way am I flinging a skinny latte across the object of my forever affections. Fuck no. Shit. There it goes. Whoa…steady as she goes. Eye widening panic! Boom goes the dynamite! My fingers grip the cups harder and safely held. Crisis averted.

Cool and casual like that. “Here you go Iona.” I handed over her drink with a smile.

“Iona?” She looked at me puzzled.

My eyes darted, alarmed. “Uh, yesterday…when you made your order here. Uh…you told the cashier your name was Iona?” Now it was time for my own quizzical. “Your name is Iona…right?”

She blew out a breath. The kind that shoots upward, blowing a dangling strand of her bangs from her rolling at being caught in a fib eyes. “That’s a thing I do. To sound exotic.” She gave a quick shake of the head and nodded to the counter. “I change it up every day. Glenda, Marion, Billie Jean...Iona. Whatever I’m feeling like that day.”

Her hand casually reached for a true introductory shake. “My real name is Tuesday…and I already know you’re Stephen…with a P.”

My smile was contemplatively wry. “Isn’t Tuesday an exotic enough name already? I mean…I’ve never met a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, a girl has to have many faces. One must stay intriguing and beguiling.”

“I’m intrigued and beguiled.” I shot back. Somehow feeling comfortable in my skin for a change.

The corners of her lips curved. “Mutual.”

Relaxation immediately struck. My entire being at ease. A wordless infinity.

“But, I’m sorry Stephen. Much as I’d like to sit down and get to know you, I have to be to work in five minutes. I’m all about a strict schedule.” Nice! She really is perfection.

“I completely understand that.”

Tuesday fished a hand into her oversized tote, withdrawing a business card which she handed over. “I neglected to leave you my number last night. I was a little jittery over it all…well...you know.” Our eyes locked. Mesmerizing. “Will you call me for dinner?” She questioned as if there was some sort of doubt.

“Absolutely.” I opened the door, leading her through. Two fingers steadied at the small of her back. Feeling a response as Tuesday’s back comfortably adjusted.

She turned to me on the street, one last parting moment.  Words breaking apart the sweetest lips I’d ever laid eyes on. “Thanks for latte. I like a man who gets me coffee in the morning…cliché, I know.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

Tuesday paused, giving thought to one last message. “Just so you know…I don’t do personal calls or texts during the work day. So, don’t bother. I’m married to my career. I have a plan.”

I gave the thumbs up. Fucking perfection.

-bart 4.20.2019