#if anyone cares to hear my rambles lol

[vodid]

i'm trying to inch my way towards a balanced pov in my blitzbee fic so its not always bee-centric/bee's pov when he meets w blitzy but gah damn is it hard. its so much more fascinating to explore blitzwing from an outside perspective (aka bee's pov) bc i'm not even sure he understands what hes thinking in that noggin of his. its hard to write that lol

also a lot of the meets tend to be actively initiated by bumblebee's actions so it makes it hard to get the context in if its in blitzwing's pov. and i don't like doing double povs like chapter 3 and 4, where the scene kind of repeats in both povs for said context. i only let that one slide bc it was a couple lines of dialogue that would repeat

i feel bad about it sometimes because i know we could use more blitzwing centric fics, but i'm trying to let the fic do what feels right for the pov and it just so happens to skew towards bee more. blitzwing's pov is more about him processing things, while bee is more about doing things. i can only hope as the fic progresses, itll figure itself out

[spittyfishy]

Would any of y’all be interested in hearing about my own characters/stories or would it just be annoying?

[theflyingfeeling]

...💌

[mrfoox]

Uh.... Love how.... Instead of gently reassuring me or such whenever I say something really bad about myself Oliver just sigh loudly/grunt and then go to argue against me and finally gently tell me the opposite :')

[librarygarten]

#1 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 1 includes Hyrule, Wind, and Time Part 1 (you are here) ✿ Part 2 ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Hyrule

He wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, it was upsetting. His adventures were being used to entertain people? His Hyrule was a nightmare to live in, with monsters everywhere. When he had defeated Ganon, it had been a huge deal. To find out it was a game for children was a bit insulting if he was being honest.

On the other hand, his… “games” seemed to be your favorite? You had explained to him that his adventures were the first games ever created, and without them, the rest of the franchise wouldn’t exist. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in this fact. He had grown up hearing of the Hero of Legend, and even now, traveling with the group, with Legend, it was impossible not to feel like he had to live up to that legacy. But to hear that without him, the others wouldn’t exist? (At least in your universe their stories would never have been created.) It was like the roles had been reversed. The Hero of Legend. The Hero of Time. All of them had to live up to the legacy that was… Hyrule.

He felt a bit guilty. A bit fascinated. A bit resentful. A bit proud. He wasn’t sure what to think. He decided to watch you play his game. Just for a bit, he told himself. Just to see what had started it all.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“Okay, so, I normally use a guide to help me find the dungeons,” you explained to Hyrule as you booted up a new save file. He was sitting next to you, watching the screen intently. “I’m not sure how far I’ll get without the internet, especially when I have to get through the maze later on.”

Hyrule had no idea what you were talking about. He decided to ignore whatever you just said and instead focus on the game in your hands.

“Is that supposed to be me?” he pointed at the screen, to the mass of pixels in the center vaguely resembling a person wearing a green dress and hat.

“Yeah, sorry. Your games’ graphics aren’t great,” you moved the joystick, making the game Link walk around in a circle. “But that’s just because they’re older. I think my dad was a teenager when this was made.”

There was a moment of silence before you spoke again.

“I miss him.”

Hyrule nodded in understanding. It couldn’t be easy, traveling with the group in a world so unlike your own. How were they going to get you home? Before he could try to comfort you, you turned your attention back to the game, moving the character into a small doorway as you talked.

“He’s the one that first got me into the games. He and I used to play this game on the old NES he had. We even tried to make a map of the different screens so that we would stop getting lost.”

Hyrule closed his eyes, leaning his head against your shoulder as you continued to ramble on about the game. It didn’t sit right with him that his adventure was reduced to entertainment. But you seemed so happy. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

Wind

(Pretend his games are on the Switch lol)

He's the least bothered by this. Like, sure, it's a bit weird that his adventures are games, but it's also so cool! It's like you went on his adventure, too! Even though you’ve never met his friends in real life, you seem to show such genuine care about them when playing his game.

He WILL demand to see every Legend of Zelda game you have, not just his own. It lets him experience the rest of the chain's adventures, which he really enjoys. (He likes watching you play Ocarina of Time the most. You have a hunch it has something to do with Wind growing up hearing stories about Time, then being expected to carry on that legacy. Or maybe he just likes to watch you fail at the Water Temple).

Despite his fascination with the others’ games, Wind is also REALLY proud that you like his the most. He had fun on his adventures with Tetra, and he’s glad he gets to share that with you. He’s also glad he can shove it in the others faces that he’s the favorite.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

You giggled as the cutscene played on the screen. Wind, who was sitting next to you, gave you an inquisitive look. He was watching the cutscene too, and didn’t see what was so funny. Upon seeing his face, you laughed even more.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized through giggles, “your facial expressions get me every time.” You gestured to the screen. The game Wind had been placed in a barrel, about to be launched from the pirate boat. His expression changed from wide-eyed terror to a determined glare. “It looks like you went through the five stages of grief in three seconds.”

“I HAD TO ADAPT TO SURVIVE.” Wind puffed out his chest. If he wasn’t a twig-thin pre-teen, it may have made him look manlier.

“I’m sure being yeeted off a boat in a barrel was quite the ordeal. Still doesn’t make your faces any less amusing.” You smiled, playfully poking his cheek. He stuck out his tongue at you.

“I’m sure it’s just the art style of the game.” He rolled his eyes. Surely, his facial expressions couldn’t be that amusing. “Tetra doesn’t look that funny in real life. Neither does Aryll. Everyone on your ‘Switch’ has weird little feet that don’t go with the rest of their body. I wouldn’t trust it to copy my face.”

“Ah, my mistake,” you ruffled his hair. “Surely, no screen can properly capture this adorable visage.”

“HEy!”

“But no, seriously.” you smiled and turned your attention back to the screen, “your funny faces used to crack me up all the time as a kid! Me and my brother tried to copy them, but we could never get them quite right.”

“So, am I your brother’s favorite Link, too?” Wind smirked.

“Hey! I never said you were my favorite. I said your games were my favorite!” You playfully hit his shoulder. “I can’t just choose my favorite of you guys! That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh!” Wind cried out and grabbed his chest, “My pride!” He fell over dramatically, as if dying from the grievous injury to his ego. You laughed at the display.

“See, this is what I mean. I don't get this kind of entertainment from the others! Legend’s too grouchy and the captain's worried about messing up his hair.” Wind bolted upright at your comment. Cupping his hands over his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, he yelled across the campsite.

“HEAR THAT LEGEND? Y/N LIKES ME BETTER THAN YOU!”

“SHUT UP! I STILL HAVE MORE GAMES THAN YOU!”

Time

Time is silent the entire time you explain his games. Only two of his adventures seem to have made it to your world. He’s not sure if he should be horrified that his time in Termina is the last story you had of him, or grateful you didn’t see the aftermath of that adventure. (You don’t seem to know much about the Fierce Deity mask besides it “makes boss fights easier”.)

It takes him a while to trust you. He isn't sure how you view the chain now, and he can't risk you thinking they're still a game. There are real stakes. He tries to put you in the back of the group or somewhere you can't possibly mess anything up. Once you prove to him that you genuinely care about the group, though, he relaxes quite a bit. (That's a story for another time tho).

He doesn’t get too worked up over the fact you viewed his adventures as games. He can see how much you care for the chain when interacting with them, so it’s not like you still view them as playthings. From talking to his successors, he’s also grown used to being reduced to a story. He knows that fighting Ganondorf was terrifying, especially considering he was so young when he had to do it. However, to Wind, Twilight, and the others that came after? He was the Hero of Time. The Possessor of the Triforce of Courage. A legendary hero. Not a scared kid.

He watches you play occasionally, usually just a quick glance at the screen when he walks past wherever you were sitting. Wind seemed particularly interested in your device, so you had been showing him almost every game you had. Time mostly seems detached from the events depicted. Maybe it’s how long has passed between his childhood time traveling shenanigans and his present. More likely, he had simply lived through those adventures so many times himself that he couldn’t bring himself to get worked up about watching them again. You couldn’t quite tell.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“Ugh! I hate this stupid dungeon!” you groaned, pressing your face closer to the screen of your Switch. Wind was sprawled out next to you, head resting in your lap as he napped. Clearly, you had been at this for a while. Your frustration had also grabbed Time’s attention, and he made his way over to you.

“Is that the Water Temple?” he asked, sitting down on the other side of you. “I remember that place being a bit tedious to get through.”

“Yeah. I’ve been here for almost an hour. I can never get these platforms in the right order.” You furrowed your eyebrows, trying yet again to complete the stupid puzzle. Time watched you move his teen self around the level, pushing down his discomfort. He was slightly amused at how frustrated you were getting. (He’s still a little brat at heart.)

Finally, he decided to be helpful.

“Here,” he held out his hand, and you gave him the Switch. “It’s really obvious once you see the solution.” Time moved the joysticks gently, guiding his game counterpart around the level. He moved the platforms, solving the puzzle in only a few seconds.

“Oh come on!” You stuck out your tongue at the game, and Time couldn’t help but chuckle. He handed the game back to you, and you continued to play, passing through the last few levels before the final boss fight. Time continued to watch, occasionally offering commentary on the puzzles, although it was more to make fun of you than to help you.

Honestly, both of you lost track of time, and before you realized, the final battle was over. Ganondorf was defeated. As the credits rolled, Time was unusually quiet, and for a moment you thought he had fallen asleep. You glanced over, only to find his eyes glued to the screen.

“May I?” He whispered, holding out both of his hands. You placed the Switch in his hands, and he gingerly held the device as the final cutscene played. On the screen, Navi flew up and away. Time turned the device over and placed it on the ground when the words “Presented by Nintendo” appeared. 

“Time, I’m sorry,” you began, gingerly touching his shoulder. He looked lost in thought.

“Don’t be. I think I needed to see that.” He smiled sadly. “I didn’t really understand it back then. I thought she had just flown away. I didn’t really get to… mourn.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and Time gently accepted the hug. Once he was sure you weren’t going anywhere, Link tightened his arms around you.

[candyk0rn]

Cuddles : BG3

It’s been a while! I hope you’re all doing great, and I’m sorry for once more going on a forever break lol. But of course, Baldurs Gate 3 brainrot is so real

Before reading: Fluff, headcanons, Astarion, Lae’Zel, Gale, Shadowheart x reader (separate), gn reader

Astarion:

“Oh? I see you still can’t say no to my endless charm..”

At the beginning of the relationship, touches and prodding aren’t uncommon

Anything that can bring your attention to him

It takes a while and a lot of convincing from you that his somewhat risqué touches was not all that pleased you

And eventually he can even process that you don’t just love him for his body

Although hard for him to realize, with your help he can

So after your relationship has really blossomed and grown, his touches become softer, calmer, more intimate

Nights by the crackling fire, you in his lap, his hand massaging your nape

His fingers are dangerously cold against your skin, but there’s a sense of comfort that comes with the chill

Although he will brush off your reassurance as pitiful and unneeded..

Please reassure him omg

For the longest time, he will surely believe you are like all his other conquests,

Seduced by him and his charms

But just small whispers of love into his ear, your comforting touch against his skin

That’s enough for him.

Gale:

“Come with me, we shall rest under the stars tonight.”

I am of the firm believer that Gale is horribly touch-starved, poor man

Taken advantage of by his own Goddess, thinking that that is the best he would ever be able to do

Then when you come along, it all changed

His thoughts about himself seem to change, his standards seem to change, his love seems to change

He cares so much about you, he cannot help but think he is not worthy

That a cursed, unfaithful man as himself could never even breathe the same air as you

But all of his doubts and worries seem to melt away when you two hold one another underneath the stars

Your fingers lovingly combing through his hair as he rambles on about something he is passionate about

Wether it be a book, his expertise in magic, or Tara (lmao)

Others would shove him off as a show-off, annoying, etc

But you are so willing to hear him go on and on, that he can’t help but love you

His index finger instinctively draws shapes into your back when you hold each other

When he’s cuddled up with you, his worries that today might be his last don’t even cross his mind

He’s more worried about you, how you feel, if you’re comfortable

He doesn’t care if tonight is the last night he shall ever see you

He’d rather die tomorrow than live for an eternity never knowing you

Lae’Zel:

“Chk..I do not take part in worthless acts of intimacy.”

Lae’Zel is not much of a ‘cuddles’ person

Like at all…

She’d rather feel the thrill of battle with you, bathing in the blood of your enemies

Her way of loving is slaughtering anyone who even just looks at you the wrong way

But, if you’re particularly lucky, or especially down

She can’t help but..pity you

In her mind, it’s such a disgusting feeling. This ‘love’ makes her weak, but she cannot run from it no matter how much she tries

The most touch you’ll get from her will only occur in private

A hand perched protectively on your hip or waist

Her head slumped on your shoulder when you’re on watch for the night

acts like this, although small

It means so,so much from her

And she’ll kill you if you go telling Shadowheart about how ‘sweet’ she was being last night

Shadowheart:

“My love…ugh. I’m still not used to calling someone that.”

Shadowheart is lost when it comes to you

Not only is she horribly confused that you of all people would love her

She’s confused as to how she’s supposed to love you

Her entire life, for what she can remember, she’s never been shown comfort or remorse

If she did something wrong, she was punished

She doesn’t remember a single moment in her life when she was loved the way you love her

And although grateful, she feels unworthy

Hugs are common with her, of course in private, but common nonetheless

When she hold you in her arms, the pads of her fingers massage your back lovingly, worried if she lets go, you’ll flee

Let! Her! Play! With! Your! Hair! 🙏🏻

And please play with hers omg

At night, she’ll let her hair down and allow your hands to explore her long, black (or white) locks

Your touch sends shivers down her spine, a feeling she’s not used to, but craves so much

She truly hopes that you’ll never leave her, for now that she has tasted your touch,

She never wants that sensation to leave

Thanks for reading!

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush admitting that the reason why they only talk a lot when they're comfortable with someone is because they know they won't be ignored, not acknowledged, interrupted, talked over, no one would listen, and no one cares? Sorry! I had a bad day 😞

give me a list of names, anon, and I’m going to go and enact some revenge for you ❤️

but for now the guys reacting to when their s/o confesses they aren’t comfortable talking around people they don’t know as they’re used to being ignored:

Astarion

jokes how he’ll go and maim or murder anyone who’s made you upset

(but? Maybe it’s not that much of a joke from the way he’s going for his dagger…)

encourages you to let your feelings out and complains along with you in agreement, reassuring you that he’s on your side

holds you close afterwards - even though he’s not the best at communicating how he feels, you know he’s there for you and wants you to be heard. he hears you.

Gale

my man is FLABBERGASTED

”well, as a wizard, I’ve always found everything you have to say rather interesting” (can’t help bringing that up lmao)

makes a concerted effort to make sure you know he’s listening when you talk (he always was anyway, but now he’s sure to show you how he’s hanging on every word)

reassures you that he loves you and talking to you is his favourite part of the day 💕

Wyll

reassures you so so much.

you have so many important and interesting things to say, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool

backs you up in every conversation

if anyone tries to talk over you he cuts in with a firm, “excuse me, I believe my partner was speaking?”

he will give you a gentle, kind touch to give you confidence when you’re speaking - a hand on the small of your back, or brushing his fingers against yours.

Halsin

understands your worry but tries to make you feel better about it

“so many people turn to you for guidance and leadership. they would not do that if you were not worth listening to, my heart.”

will give examples of times when your words made a deep and impactful change

reminds you that you are worth hearing. ❤️

Dammon

stands behind you and glares at people who try and talk over you. this usually makes them shut the fuck up lol

constant gentle reassurance from my man!!

if you’ve had a day where you feel like you’ve not been heard and it’s overwhelming, offers to let you hammer away at something at his forge until you feel better.

Rolan

immediate fury.

he’s the only one who gets to interrupt you!! And when he does it, it’s playful and silly!!! (In his mind anyway, my boy is too dense lmao)

casts silence on people who talk over you, then turns to you and goes, “as you were saying??”

Zevlor

tells you he treasures every word you say, and anyone who doesn’t is a fool.

loves it when you go on long rambling monologues about things because it brings him joy that you trust him so much.

lets you know that he could listen to you talk for the rest of his life, and hopes you’ll let him 💕

[sunshikilo]

did anyone order a mcsm gravity falls au

rewatched the whole series this weekend and i was like hey lol this kinda reminds me of those blocks and the more i thought about it a lot of the roles kinda clicked into place for me

dont know whether to make f!jesse and m!jesse the pines twins or olivia and f/m!jesse as dipper and mabel respectively... i know the first would make more sense it kind of messed with the rest of my characterizations and this is by no means a serious au i dont really care to keep anything super canon compliant LOL we can just call them fraternal twins if i choose olivia and jesse

Plus hear me out i think liv being dipper makes the most sense because theyre both techy, pragmatic, kinda socially awkward and pessimistic. mabel and the jesses is more of a stretch but they both have pet pigs and are usually the most optimistic #poweroffriendship people in any group theyre in (i guess it depends on how you play jesse but like i said a STRETCH)

ivor, petra, and axel's roles as stan, wendy, and soos are kinda a given i dont think i need to explain much about that decision 😭

though lowkey lukas doesnt fit anywhere in my version of this au gideon is the best i got LMAO 😭😭 the hair is kinda similar! i guess axel and liv could also be grenda and candy and lukas could be soos...?..? completely ignoring shipping? no idea there ehh

im just rambling now like this isnt a one off doodle ok lmk tho

[1eoness]

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 22 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon ♡

[to clarify, i am 18. anyone <18 and anyone >18 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

[starry-hughes]

My teammates get annoyed because I talk about you so much.” with Lukey! I imagine hearing this from Curtis and John lol

star’s birthday party

-

luke had yet to introduce you to the team. of course you had met jack, but you hadn’t met anyone else. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet them or that luke was hiding you, it was just that nothing ever lined up perfectly.

the running joke in the locker room was that you didn’t exist. the photo of you and luke in his locker stall was the only one he had ever shown them and the only one on social media. every time there was an event, you were either sick or out of town for work.

luke was talking about the plans for the summer. talking about how you were going home with him to michigan and to watch him play in worlds.

“do you ever shut up about this girl?” john teased. “i bet she doesn’t even exist. what’s that saying? goes to another school? is from canada?” curtis continued.

“ha. funny. jack tell them.”

“she was at the apartment two nights ago i think but i didn’t see her,” jack said. “sounds like a lie to me,” john patted luke on the shoulder. “its okay buddy, you’ll find someone one day.”

luke never stopped his rambling about you but his teammates still had yet to meet you or come to terms with the possibility that you were in fact a real person who was really dating luke.

it was the last game of the year and you weren’t going to go but something cleared off your schedule and you got to go to the game. luke was finally ready to show you off.

the game ended with the devils losing but he didn’t care. “she’s real. you’ll see soon,” luke said as he changed. “sure bud,” john and curtis both teased him.

when all the players were leaving to meet their families, luke scanned the room for you and for a second his heart dropped when he didn’t see you. curtis was ready to chirp him but then you entered, looking slightly frazzled.

“i took a wrong turn and got twisted around,” you said as luke quickly approached you. you were taken aback when he kissed you. “oh hi to you too.”

“guys, this is my girlfriend, (y/n),” luke finally got to introduce you. “he’s not paying you for this or anything right?” john asked. “no?” you furrowed your eyebrows together. “my teammates get annoyed because i talk about you so much. and they thought you were fake.”

“in our defense, we only have ever seen one photo of you and you always have to cancel last minute!” curtis defended. “oh god is it that stupid grainy photo of us on the boat last summer?”

“i love that photo of us,” luke pouted.

[sinsandsweetness]

across the hall - part 2 (Frank Castle x fem!reader)

part 1

cw- eventual smut, 18+ , nothing crazy<3

notes- definitely placed in the beginning of season 1. I know he goes by a different name at that time but… I don’t really care lol. I have no clue where this is going but it’s all my fingers will type today so I’m rolling with it. lmk what we think:)

Frank opened the door in plaid pyjama pants and a grey tee. Rubbing at his eye with his palm and leaning up against the doorway.

“Hey,” he seems a little surprised. Like no one has ever knocked on his door before. “You lose your keys again?”

You’re momentarily distracted by the stretched fabric across his body. Muscles in his arms bulging and flexing involuntarily as he crosses them against his chest.

“Oh, um, no I just- uh, I wanted to say thank you, for the other night. You didn’t have to do that and … yeah just, um, I made you this.” You bring attention to the casserole dish in your hands. “Just as a little thank you.”

He wants to smile but for whatever reason he bites it back. Nodding slightly and shrugging his shoulders. “Was just bein’ a good neighbour.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you didn’t have to. It was just really nice and I, um, I appreciated it. A lot.” You shift on your feet. Glancing down at your bunny slippers and pyjama pants.

“What is it?” Frank opens the door even more, nodding to the dish. He’s inviting you in. Not verbally. But he backs into his apartment and expects you to follow.

“Uh, lasagna. Hope you like it.” You step in and he closes the door behind you. “It’s still needs to go in the oven. A half hour?” You suggest, handing it to him.

He turns the oven on and places the tinfoil covered dish inside. Turning around and looking you up and down. You figure you weren’t supposed to notice that.

With his gaze on you, you find yourself suddenly a little self conscious of your pjs. White top, probably a little see through though you didn’t want to check. Faded pink striped pyjama pants and those fucking slippers. Why couldn’t you have just slipped on some flip flops. Anything else.

“Kinda late for dinner, no?” He cracks a smile to let you know that he’s not being rude. Just making conversation, acknowledging both of your attire.

“Well you work late, right? I mean at least it seems like it… I don’t know when you get off work or anything-“ you’re rambling. You do know when he gets off. Almost every weekday at 8 pm you hear his door unlock. It’s sticky, catching on the wooden frame. That’s how you know. It’s louder than anyone else’s in the hall. And, most of the time, you get home from college at the same time. Running into him in the elevator and walking alongside him to the two of your doors. At least on the days you decide to study.

Frank nods. Leaning up against the counter. A little smirk visible in the dim lit apartment.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

“Oh, no I’m ok. I should get back to bed anyway.” You stutter, motioning towards the door.

“You’re gonna make me eat this whole lasagna all alone?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“Stay. Have a beer. Or water. I have water. Wine? Think I got some wine somewhere in here,” Frank is already in the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of beer. Same as the other night.

“Beer’s good.” You finally answer.

“Here. Take a seat.” He hands You the bottle and pulls one of the stools at the island out for you.

You sit there and wait for the timer on the oven to go off. He asks you what you do. What you’re studying in school. How you like it. You ask him about work. What he does, how he likes it. Typical small talk, only this time you’re here on purpose. Not out of necessity.

When the timer goes off he makes you up a plate. Sitting next to you at the island, you eat with him. You’re not very hungry, seeing as you’d already eaten dinner. But you didn’t really want to leave. Not after his comment about eating alone. That pulled at a heart string.

“So…” you try to come up with more conversation. An empty plate and a fork in front of you both. Only a few sips left in your beer. “You live alone?”

He nods. Taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh. So you don’t… have a girlfriend or anything?”

He doesn’t know wether he should smile. Instead he just shakes his head. No girlfriend. Ok. You don’t want to admit it but you’re glad he said no. Even though you don’t know him very well, you feel drawn to the man. Big and burley and quiet. Handsome of course. And something else that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You uh,” he swallows, “you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you huff a little laugh. Though it’s not very funny.

“So your buddy from the elevator…?”

“Oh no. That’s- he’s just my roommate. He’s got a girlfriend. Several actually,” you laugh awkwardly and wish you could smack your forehead.

“Lady killer, huh?” He cracks a smile.

“Somethin’ like that. Definitely thinks he is,” you smile back and take a few more swigs of beer. Not really feeling a buzz but definitely more relaxed. You don’t know why you’re always so anxious around Frank. He’s much more kind than the energy he puts off in the hall.

Two more beers and a few awfully raunchy roommate stories later and you find yourself back on his couch. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts. your slippers are kicked off and across the room. You’re sitting there, criss cross applesauce beside him and demonstrating the size of a hot pink dildo that your freshman year roommate forgot to take out of the shower. Frank is laughing and covering his face with a palm. Like he’s actually embarrassed for the girl. But you’re both a little tipsy so it really doesn’t matter.

“So what, you’ve never been the bad roommate?” He asks. His hand so close to your knee it’s burning hot.

“I mean…” you bite your lip. Trying not to smile and give yourself away.

“Ok. So you have. How?” He nudges your leg with his own. Urging you on.

“I have not!” You laugh. Trying to uphold your dignity.

“I’m callin’ bullshit. Pretty girl like you? No way you don’t have a few skeletons in that closet.” His hand is on your knee now. Undeniably there. Resting. Squeezing.

You blush. You can’t help the way your face heats up. He called you pretty. And he’s touching you.

You swallow, “I- I’ve had a couple of hookups that, maybe weren’t exactly the quietest. Or… safest.” You try to keep it brief. Hoping he’ll let it be at that.

“Safest?”

“Well… there was a bathtub incident, where he, um, broke his foot. And a… well a bed frame incident as well…” you’re face is burning. You can’t believe you’re admitting this to your neighbour. One that you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing shirtless again. One that you’ve been picturing in your bed for a much longer time than you’d care to admit.

“Hmm,” He hums a little laugh but he doesn’t bother asking for any explanation.

“What?” You ask. Nervous of the answer.

“Nothin’,”

“No, you were about to say something, go on.”

“I don’t know. You just didn’t strike me as that kind of girl. Always carrying all those books around. Seemed like the kinda girl who goes to school and to church and that’s it. Just… I don’t know. You surprise me.”

“I’m full of surprises, Frank. I think we both are.”

He nods. You have no idea.

“Besides, I don’t even go to church,” you finish off your bottle with one last sip. Placing on the floor beside the couch leg.

“No?”

“Why did you think that?” You ask.

“You’re up at 8 every Sunday. Dressed all nice. Figured that’s where you go.”

He notices you every Sunday. How does he notice?

“I meet a friend….for brunch. Been sort of a ritual since school started,” you explain, “how do you- how do you know that?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know that i’m up at 8 on sundays?”

“I see you, walking down to the corner of the street,” He points to the window. “Hear your keys in your hand as you leave the hallway. And I know about 4 minutes later, I’ll see you on the sidewalk. Going towards the lights.”

“So you’re spying on me?” You tease. Smiling like an idiot. He notices you! Frank notices you and he has for weeks. All while you’ve been trying to muster up the courage to talk to him in the elevator or the hall. He’s been doing the same thing.

“It’s not spyin’ if it’s general knowledge. Anyone can see you leavin’ the building.” He defends himself but you know he’s smiling.

“Yeah but you’re obviously the only one who notices.” You sit up straighter. Suddenly feeling really close to his face. Looking into those deep brown eyes.

“Trust me when I say, I’m definitely not the only guy who notices you.” His eyes keep darting away. Like he’s afraid of you seeing into them. Seeing into him.

You bite your lip. Not knowing what to say. It’s a compliment, though you’ve never been very great at taking those.

“Hey, Frank?” You ask, redirecting his attention back to your eyes. Your voice is quiet. Shy. “Would you wanna go for brunch sometime?”

“I got a better idea. Stay the night, and I’ll make you breakfast this time. How’s that sound?” His hand on your leg is squeezing you gently. And his words are pulling you even closer.

“I’d like that,” you breath out, nose almost touching his. Hand coming up to the side of his face, “I’d like that a lot.”

You press your lips to his and your suddenly thankful for all the beers he gave you. Feeling a hundred times more courageous than you typically do.

His hands are wrapping around your waist on no time. Pulling you around to straddle his lap. To kiss him and feel him underneath you. Hands roaming his broad shoulders and down his chest. His own hands dragging under the thin material of your long sleeve, sending pinpricks down your arms from the touch.

Your tongues taste of beer as they trace over each others lips. Muffled moans threaten to creep up your throat as you feel him grow hard underneath you. Grinding against his bulge, only the thin fabric of your pyjamas between you.

He picks you up by the backs of your thighs. Lifting you and him both to maneuver you around. He wants you underneath him. Your back hits the leather couch and his forearms frame your face. Coming back down to meet your lips again, you reach for his shirt, pulling on the hem. He lets you lift it over his head. Your own shirt quickly after. Pants being tugged down all rushed and inpatient before you find yourself inviting him in between your legs. Heels wrapped around the small of his back and your nails dig into his shoulder blades while he enters you slowly. Giving you a minute to adjust to his size.

His kisses are hungry. Warm and, somehow, already familiar. His beard tickles your jaw but you can’t complain. It feels too good. Him. Inside of you. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulling you closer as he fucks you. The sofa is creaking with every thrust but he doesn’t seem to care. Whispering sweet nothing in your ear. You can barely hear them you’re so high. Intoxicated by the taste of him. The feel of him. Nothing is going through your mind except him and how fucking good he feels.

“Frank, I’m- oh god I’m getting close,” you let him know with your lips brushing his neck the whole time. You want to kiss every inch of him. Every spot you can reach. He doesn’t mind. Going even faster at your announcement. Determined to get you there before him, because at your words, he’s trying so fucking hard not to finish in your tight, warm heat right here and now.

You press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling and tugging and silently telling him that you’re there. Your breath hitches and he feels you convulse around him. Your orgasm takes over and a warm, euphoric wave spreads throughout your core. Frank pulls out and hot, white ropes coat your lower belly. His own face pressed into your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs through his spine.

You catch your breath in his hold. Gripping his arm and the back of his neck. Trying to pull him back for one last kiss.

He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and leaning back, forcing you to follow and sit up with him.

“Sorry, I- you can shower. I’ll go get it started.” He days between kisses. But you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

“No I shouldn’t of-”

“I liked it.”

He nods. Eyes closing and melting back into your kiss. Hands still refusing to leave your body. Feeling and memorizing every soft curve of your waist. Your hips. Your ribs and the dip in your spine.

“Can I stay? Can we- can you-“ you take a deep breath, “will tou take me to your bed, Frank. Please?” You ask and he feels his cock twitch. Fuck. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to say no. He wants to fuck you in his bed until the sun rises. He wants to tell you to stay every damn night for the rest of your life. To move on in and give him a damn kid. He knew he was hooked from the first kiss. Screwed really. There’s nothing he can do except see it through. Ride it out and let the universe do the rest.

Before you know it your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s carrying you through the apartment, lips on his the whole way to the room. His foot must have tapped your empty bottle, knocking it over to roll along the floor, clinking against the linoleum.

Distracted by eachother, you don’t seem to notice, and he doesn’t seem to care.

[localcanadiancreature62]

My Thoughts on Fiddlestan

Okay you people are literally all or nothing with these mfs,like it's either all gut wretching angst or all tooth rotting fluff. So i raise you,"what if it was both?" aka i made them have a good time but they also have Issues ✨. @misteria247 you might wanna see this one cuz i know you love Fiddlestan lol.

So first things first,their first meeting. They would meet soon after the portal incident when Fidds' sanity is slowly starting to slip from the first several usages of the memory gun and he ends up going to Ford's house after having a vague familiarity with the place as well as a desire to make amends with his friend while he still remembers him,only for him to see Stan at the door. A man wearing his best friend's face. Stan lets the guy in while still keeping the ruse of pretending to be his brother after he just faked his death,trying his hardest to pretend that he knows what Fidds is talking about regarding the portal and Ford's time in college.

A few weeks pass,and Fidds get the slight suspicion that he's not actually talking to Ford as "Ford" brushes off his science-y ramblings with "I don't understand" or "I'm too tired to hear about it maybe later",when he knew that the real Ford would know exactly what he's talking about regarding his ideas for modern computers or Schrodinger's cat as well as gladly ramble along with him even if it's 2am at the time instead of ignoring it. He also realizes that "Ford" surprisingly knows nothing about anomalies and either tries to shoo creatures away or just beats the hell out of them rather than studying them whenever they have an encounter with gnomes or something,plus the fact that he gets jumpy whenever an eye-bat appears. Fidds is still sane enough to notice these "tells" and so he confronts the man about it despite Stan already being nervous about not being able to keep up the act. Stan decides to come clean after the southern man literally backed him into a corner while interrogating him about who he is and where the real Stanford is,he explains the truth about Ford's disappearance and that he's trying to fix the portal while having no idea about how his brother's science mumbo jumbo works. Fidds' expression of anger and fear changes into guilt sympathy and even intrigue as he regrets trying to aggressively gouge the man for answers,when the grifter turned out to care about Ford all along instead of selfishly stealing his life for success. He wondered about Stan's relation to Ford and the man explains that he's Ford's twin brother and that they had a rough patch in their brotherly relationship which lead to this whole mess. Fidds then offers to help fix the portal since he's the one who co built it and Stan couldn't be more than happy,although with the condition of no more lies as that impersonation fiasco genuinely scared him which Stan agrees to. They didn't get along at first with Stan's stubborn personality and tendency to tease others at random while Fidds was just really tired and he wanted to get Ford back so that he can get out of this whole mess,but they managed.

Throughout the building of the portal,the two begin to bond regarding their history with Ford and how the man inadvertently screwed them over with his ego. Then talking about how they always felt inferior in comparison to everyone else (Stan with Ford,Fidds with his rough and tumble ranch family who roughhoused constantly while he was a scrawny nerd),discovering that they weren't so different as they thought. Stan ends up taking his partnership with Fiddleford more seriously as he soon realizes that they only have each other,while Fidds starts to humor Stan's teasing and occasional goofing off since he doesn't have anyone else to turn to with Emma may and Tate still refusing contact from him ever since the divorce (just so that Fidds wouldn't yknow. cheat on his wife). They soon become friends who often look out for each other with Stan trying to stop Fidds from overworking himself while Fidds teaches Stan about quantum physics as he tries really hard to understand despite being the "dumb" twin.

Fidds' use of the memory gun becomes less frequent as he didn't have a reason to blast himself with it anymore due to finally having someone that understands his troubles with Ford and the darn triangle feller,no longer feeling as though he had to forget everything as he had someone to talk to about all of this (i mean in canon he wouldn't never went insane if Ford fucking talked to him and explained why he's still going through with the portal with his desperate desire for approval). Stan sees his steadfast love and support be appreciated by someone besides his ungrateful brother,while Fidds sees his unwavering loyalty and handmade gifts be cherished by someone who cares rather than ignored by his egotistical friend.

The fact that the two found someone who cared even when they have their own troubles means a lot to them,this steadfast love and concern was what made Fidds and Stan slowly fall for each other. Stan finally found someone who appreciates him and sees him as worthy even with his many mistakes or occasional stupidity while Fidds finally found someone who won't waste his loyalty and kindness in favor of their own selfish wishes (*cough* Ford *cough*). They're finally happy,after dealing with so much pain. They had their happy ending,or did they? 😏.

While they WERE in a healthy and loving relationship,things weren't all sunshine and rainbows. Stan outright refuses to talk about his problems in fear of being a burden to his nerd plus the emotional walls he put up were too strong even when he tries to be open toward the southern man which always ends in him not wanting to talk about it,meanwhile Fidds opts to metaphorically run away from his issues by using the memory gun to forget every argument and misunderstanding he had with the drifter (which were mostly caused by the memory gun in the first place). Whenever they have a problem with something that the other does that isn't related to the portal,they don't set boundaries they don't talk about it they don't confront the other about it,they do NOTHING.

Fidds slowly starts to go insane again as he starts forgetting about Stan at times with his use of the memory gun whenever they have an argument which is a LOT of arguments as every couple doesn't always agree with each other,he lashes out and has a paranoia episode over either imagining Stan being a stranger that wants to hurt him or him being Ford that wants to take revenge on him for quitting the project which obviously upsets the drifter but he doesn't do anything about it as he cannot afford to lose the one thing he has left because of his dumb problems (little does he know,is that he's already doing it. he's already losing Fidds cuz of his issues). Stan on the other hand,starts treating Fiddleford with the same codependency that he gave Ford with him expecting the hillbilly to always be there for him and always put HIS interests at heart despite the man having his own wants and needs with his Mcgucket Labs project. Thus Fidds is being taken for granted again while Stan is confused and angry over why this hick is ignoring him and trying to abandon him like Ford did (Stanley your brother issues are showing).

It only gets worse in the moments culminating to Fidds' insanity,where Stan doesn't even know who his hillbilly partner anymore while Fidds is completely unaware of the torment he's putting Stan through with his erratic behavior and amnesiac ramblings. Stan was there for the tapes,he was behind the camera with every transition as the southern man told him it was a little experiment regarding the memory gun and he believed that at first only to soon realize that Fidds was literally frying his own brain with that gun after reading his notes about the electricity that erases the memories plus the side effects of prolonged use. By the time Fidds had that car crash,he quit the project again and stopped seeing Stan as he left the drifter alone to fix the portal by himself albeit with more knowledge of how it works due to the various quantum mechanics lessons the man drilled into him. He just needed to figure out the elaborate codes to actually activate it. Stan missed Fidds as he was guilty about their last interaction being an argument about the memory gun and even encountered him but with a new red robe while the man went on and on about some memory cult,but he knew that the man is too far gone for him to make amends with.

Stan then ended up using Fidds' Mcgucket Labs money to support himself but then he realized that it won't be enough as that business was just a start up gig that didn't had the chance to become successful due to the portal and the memory gun,so he had to come up with another way to survive all alone. Then he went to the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store and saw that everyone was interested in Ford's weird mad scientist house,taking everyone there as he saw that people's interest in the freaky things in that house would make great revenue for him. The Mystery Shack (originally the Murder Hut) was born,and Stan had finally left his life of being a miserable grifter behind. However.. he still saw his Fiddleford rummage in the trash or make killer robots in the news sometimes. He yearns for what could've been yet he shakes his head as he knew what he had with the nerd was currently unsalvageable in his current insane state.

[sturniololoco]

i LOVEDDD the pregnancy one!! can you do more like that like maybe when she has the baby and how they help her?

Pregnant pt 2

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: baby spit up, tiredness, cuteness overload, etc.?

Note: This is so perfect bc I'm ab to get another little sibling tomorrow! (Don't mind the age gap lol)

Chris's POV

Why does giving birth to a child take so damn long?

SLS/N was finally giving birth to her little girl today, so Matt, Nick, and I were sitting in the waiting room, bouncing our legs and biting our nails, waiting.

Soon, a nurse came out into the room, asking for the Sturniolo family. The three of us immediately stood and followed her to a room.

"Which one of you is the husband?" the nurse asked, making small talk as we walked down the hallways.

all of our faces burned bright red at her question.

"O-Oh, no! She's our sister!" I said, giving a light laugh along with my brothers.

She stopped in front of a room and opened the door. Putting a finger to her lips, she motioned us inside, then left us there, closing the door again behind her.

We nervously walked around the corner to see SLS/N sitting up against the pillows of her hospital bed, holding a freshly bathed baby girl.

We smiled at her, quietly coming next to her and giving her a side hug.

"Hey, kiddo. How ya feelin'?" I asked my little sister, kissing her on top of her head. I knew it hurt her, but she was tough. She was gonna love this kid with her whole heart.

"I'm doing pretty good actually." She said. She had the biggest of smiles on her face, and it never stopped shining.

"You guys wanna meet Charleigh?" She asked motioning to the baby in her arms. We all smiled, leaning down to say hello.

"Hello, little Charleigh! It's your favorite, Uncle Chris!" I said, rubbing my finger over her soft smooth hand. I internally cringed at my baby voice, but at this point, I didn't even care.

SLS/N giggled, lifting her up to get me a better look at her face.

"Here, why don't you hold her." She asked, getting up out of bed gently so as not to wake her sleeping baby.

"I-Uh...Ok," I said.

I was kind of scared to hold her.

What if I drop her? What if she wakes up? What if she cries? What if-

My thoughts were cut off by SLS/N placing her in my arms, and showing me how to hold her. She sat me down on the couch and put a pillow under my arm.

Charleigh only moved a little, but then went right back to sleep. I let out a nervous breath I had been holding in, relieved as I realized that this was not as scary as I thought.

"She's so perfect," I say, looking down at her and smiling.

"Now that's a good picture!" Nick says, holding up his phone to snap a shot.

-

Matt's POV

The next day, SLS/N and the baby were discharged from the hospital and ready to get home.

SLS/N was carrying the baby in her car seat, the one that took Chris and me 2 and a half hours to get the base in the car.

She put Charleigh into the car and then climbed in next to her, Nick in the way back, Chris in the front next to me.

Then It hit me.

I'm driving a newborn baby. What if we crash? What if I run off a bridge? what if-

"Matt? You okay?" I hear SLS/N ask me.

"I-Uh...No. what if something goes wrong? It'll be all my fault! And then-" I start rambling, my anxiety flooding through my veins.

"Hey, hey. Listen to me. I trust you more than anyone in the world to drive my baby and me home. If I didn't, then I wouldn't put her in the car. But you're the only person I would want to drive in this situation, okay?"

Her words instantly calmed me. I began to feel braver, happy that she felt like she could put so much trust in me. I back out of the parking lot and make our way home.

-

Nick's POV

We pull into the driveway and my sister gets the baby out of the car. she then walks to the back to get her stuff.

But I beat her to it.

"Don't be silly SLS/N! You just had a fucking baby, go sit down and I'll get the stuff." I order her.

I really want to help my sister as much as I can, she's already been through so much. I want to support her through all her decisions, showing her that I love and support her.

"Aw, thanks, Nick!" She says, walking into the house after Matt, who had just unlocked the door.

I grab her and the baby's bags, then walk into the house after her.

-

"Hey Sis, I made you a surprise!" I say to my sister, walking into the living room with a plate behind my back.

She had just gotten Charleigh asleep in Matt's room since it was the closest to the living room. She was now lounging on the couch with Matt and Chris.

She sits up and claps her hands, closing her eyes. I place the plate in front of her.

"Oh fuck yeah!" she says, digging into the quesidllia I made her. I laugh as she sighs in delight. I have no ide why she even likes these that much, I can't cook worth a shit.

as she sets her plate down on the table, she scoots closer to the three of us, wrapping her arms around our necks in a big group hug.

"I love you guys," She says, squeezing us tight.

Just as I was about to respond, I heard a cry on the baby monitor.

"I'll get her!" Chris shouts, jumping up to retrieve our new favorite niece.

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

[pedgito]

okay i had this idea of eddie and reader fucking in a closet or an enclosed space of some kind yk being real sneaky and shit. and the reader lets him finish in their mouth. then he kisses the reader with his cum in his mouth bc he nasty like that. sorry if this was a really specific request it’s been sitting in my brain for ages.

author’s note: full warning, if this grosses you out, don’t read. and i don’t want to hear how much you don’t like it in my inbox because i don’t care lol. but for those of you that do read this, enjoy my nasty eddie thoughts.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) semi-public (in a closet), voyeurism (if you squint), oral (m receiving), fluid play/bonding (idk they share eddie’s jizz yeah), established relationship, eddie is v gross but we love that shit, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 1.7k

Eddie didn’t do parties, ever. It was just another spectacle and a place for him to be laughed at, wondering who invited the freak to drink and kill the vibe—but for you, he endures it. That and everyone knows to keep their mouth shut around you. It’s nice, Eddie can admit that—but it’s also damn near impossible for him to keep his hands off of you in public, not that you had a problem with it.

Dating Eddie hit you completely out of nowhere, ending up in an after school detention with him that left very little to be discovered about each other, both in your likes and dislikes, but also your bodies.

And so what if you fucked Eddie with only one twenty minute conversation under your belt—he was levels above most of the guys you fucked, even if he was a little bit inexperienced in the beginning.

He’s more surprised at how easily your perfect persona is tarnished in front of him—good grades, nice friends, always smiling at everyone who walks by. You were never mean to anyone, which is why no one ever said shit when you started your mornings cuddled up to Eddie at his locker.

They could look and stare, but no one dared to comment on it.

Eddie’s quick to feed into it, openly kissing you in the halls, grabbing at your ass under the short confines of your skirt or tight jeans—it would emit a few groans, but you didn’t care.

Not for a second.

He’s insatiable, really—and nasty to the core. You never really expected to like it as much as you did, settling for missionary and doggy style in most of your hook-ups, minimal eye contact, and getting straight to the point; not to say you didn’t enjoy it, but with Eddie, it’s kismet.

You could never say no.

“Hey, hey,” You murmur against his lips, his hands blindly reaching for the doorknob to shove you into Steve Harrinton’s bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack, “we can leave if you want—do you wanna leave?”

“Mmm,” Eddie shakes his head, breathing hotly against your mouth, “don’t think I can wait that long, wanna fuck you right now.”

You giggle softly, arms wrapped around his neck as he hoists you up, licking into your mouth with the same edge of depravity he always carried, growling lowly. His hands slip past the waistband of your jeans, contacting the bare skin underneath.

“No panties,” Eddie notes, “dirty girl.”

“Do you expect anything less?” You tease, squealing softly as he buries his face into your neck, nipping at the skin.

But, the loud ramblings of another pair of bodies stumbling down the hall has you both in a panic—Eddie nearly shuts the door close, but you’re hopping off of him to pull him into the closet before he can act, sliding the slatted, wooden doors close, leaving little light to leak through.

You force your hand over Eddie’s mouth, his features barely visible aside from the tiny spec of light that hits his face from the lamp on the table beside the closet. He blinks, confused.

It doesn’t take long for you both to realize that it’s Steve—and some girl you’ve only talked to a few times at school, who seemed a lot more familiar with Steve than you expect, hands reaching under waistband of his boxers from where his jeans hang open loosely, you avert your eyes quickly, connecting with Eddie’s.

He’s got that ridiculous smirk on his face, having caught you in the act of peeping, shifting the closet door shut tight—no more peeking on his account. His hands keep busy, whether on your neck, your breasts, over the expanse of your back, just touching because he wanted to—but you can feel how impatient he’s being, hard in his jeans from where’s pressed up against you in the small space.

“We can’t,” You whisper softly, feeling Eddie’s hands squeeze at the slope of your ass, pulling you in closer, “Eddie, I’m serious.”

“It’s Steve,” He murmurs, lips connecting with your neck briefly, “he won’t even know.”

Eddie was right—but the hesitation was still there.

“I’m not letting you fuck me in a closet,” You force out in a hushed whisper, “get over yourself.”

Eddie chuckles lightly, fumbling with the front of his pants carefully, mouth still busy against your skin, “Never said anything about that, but if I need to find a way to keep that mouth occupied, I can think of a few.”

You look at him sternly—Eddie can faintly read your expression, smiling confidently as his belt jingles quietly, slow to unzip his jeans.

“Because as much as I love to hear you talk, that mouth is good at other things,” Eddie says knowingly, “unless, of course, you’d rather watch Steve—“

“Fuck off.” You mutter, sinking to your knees with ease, yanking Eddie’s jeans down his hips impatiently and reaching under his boxers for his cock with a ferocity that has Eddie feeling for the walls, hands coming up to brace himself.

“Jesus,” He grunts softly, your grip tightening around the soft, velvet skin, his cock thickening to full hardness under your touch, “—a little warning next time, sweetheart.”

You scoff lightly at that, the deep hum of the music traveling upstairs and under the gap of Steve’s bedroom door—it didn’t help drowning out the sounds of Steve and the girl only a few feet away, but it did help muffle the sounds of Eddie, who couldn’t help his noise level when your mouth finally closes around his cock.

You lick at the tip slowly, right along the slit until Eddie’s reaching for your head, hand squeezing at the root of your hair. Eddie never tried to be soft, or caring—he always was regardless, but he was also just as intense.

“Fuck, take it, baby—“ He pushes a little deeper, forcing you to inhale on the push, moaning against him, “oh, fuck—“

It was easy to wreck Eddie’s ego, watch it come crashing to the ground every time you touched him. You bob your head with his movements, slowly until he’s holding you still, rocking his hips into your mouth with harsh, precise thrusts—fucking your mouth just like he would your pussy, reminding you just how devastating it was that he couldn’t have you right now.

There’s a creak on the bed that has you two pausing your movements, mouth still fully engulfing Eddie’s dick as footsteps approach. Eddie’s thumb pressing at your cheek gently, rubbing in small, comforting circles—almost a way to soothe or ease your worry.

“Hurry.” The girl giggles, followed by Steve’s ruffling through the drawers of the table placed beside the closet.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

And the double entendre of it has both you and Eddie forcing a laugh back down.

When Steve finally retreats a safe distance you feel Eddie rub at your jaw, urging you to continue.

You double down, shifting down to mouth at his balls, the weight heavy against your tongue as you swirl it gently over the skin—Eddie raises his fist in silence, biting down to stifle the filthy groan that almost escapes. It’s the easiest way to fuck with him, knowing how much he liked it—and you don’t stop.

Your hand pumps steadily, stopping to squeeze at the head occasionally, smearing the precum over the head and down, the friction unbearable as you made it your absolute mission to make Eddie come—fast and hard.

It doesn’t take long before he’s grunting softly, yanking gently at your head to pull you away.

“Need somewhere,” Eddie begs, “Steve’ll never forgive me if I use his shirt to clean up my jizz, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know,” You tease, “think it’s kinda hot, actually.”

It would’ve been easier for him to ask to come in your mouth, but that was a little too straightforward—he didn’t do it often, mostly because things would’ve led to sex by now, but it’s still one of his favorite things, your eyes wide and attentive on his face as he cums, thinking he might actually pass out from the feeling of it all.

“Your mouth, baby,” He finally says, voice strained, clearly holding himself back, “god, let me cum in your mouth, please.”

You smile widely, despite how hard it is to make it out in the poor lighting and nod, which he does feel.

You close your mouth over the tip, feeling his hand leave your hair to tug at his dick, jerking himself off with fervor, breathing harshly through his nose.

“I’m gonna come,” He forces out in a hushed tone, giving you the small warning you need to pull back, tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, as he lets out a litany of curses, “fuckfuckfuck—“ in the same deep tone that makes your thighs clench together harder, reminding you how greatly you were lacking his touch.

You flinch when the warmth of it hits your mouth, warm and pooling in the dip of your tongue as Eddie tries his best to suppress his groans, squeezing himself until there’s nothing left, the head of his cock dragging against your lips as he pulls away—your immediate instinct is to swallow, rid yourself of the musky taste and find the best route of escape, but Eddie stops you.

“Come here,” He urges, letting him pull you up, your face tilting in his grip as he closes your mouth with his thumb, rubbing the underside of your chin, “—how does it taste?”

You raise your eyebrows expectantly, gesturing to him before opening your mouth, beckoning him to get a taste—and Eddie’s never shied away from things like this, always willing to try things at least once. So, he does, his tongue dipping into your mouth quickly, the taste of him lingering between you two briefly as you hurried to swallow the rest.

“Dirty,” He repeats his earlier sentiment against your lips, “—fuck, if I didn’t like you so much I would never do shit like that.”

You giggle quietly, reaching up to press a gentle kiss against his lips, “I know.”

And you can say that with full confidence, because it’s true.

“Now, how do we get out of here?”

You shrug, “Don’t know—but, I got something that’ll keep you busy, if you want.”

Eddie was more than eager to please.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[burningcheese-merchant]

Is it just me or does Burning Spice give me a lot of possessive yandere vibes?

Wait, hear me out: Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese.

You're right on the money, brother 🙌🙌🙌 You understand completely.

One-sided BurningCheese can't NOT have Spice be a yandere. That level of pure evil, plus all that suspicious behavior I outlined in my ship masterpost? Foregone conclusion, practically. She didn't just steal his Soul Jam, she stole his fucking sanity. She's the air that he breathes. The blood pumping through his veins. She's the only reason he's got left to live. The ultimate truth of the universe is that they were destined from the moment she took his Soul Jam. He belongs to her, and she belongs to him. It's as simple as that.

That hooded subordinate that tagged along with her to Beast-Yeast? The only reason he's still alive is because Spice was too busy focusing on his beloved. He HATES that little worm. He wants his head on a pike YESTERDAY. How dare he look at her? How dare he speak to her? How dare he smile and laugh and reminisce with her? This won't do. No, no, no.

Her friends, the other heroes? Absolutely not. Where were they when she lost everything? While she succumbed to grief and delusion for all those years? When she awoke in empty ruins? HE was there, in a way. By her side, through their connection via the Soul Jam. He's already done so much for her. She's always been in his thoughts, in his heart. The only thing keeping him going inside that prison was her. The thought of her. Her image, her voice, the unspoken promise between them... That promise to finally meet, to battle, to become one. Did THEY do anything like that for her? Did THEY hunger for her day and night like he did? Like he still does? She doesn't need them, they're all failures. They're WEAK. He isn't.

Her kingdom? Her people? All dead, you say? Slaughtered like pigs, stitched back together and stuffed into golden caskets in a feverish, feeble attempt at self-soothing? GOOD. She doesn't need them, either. WEAKLINGS. FOOLS. Had it not been that vile witch, it would've been him instead, because he can't stand the thought of her caring for anything and anyone else but him. She was enough for him, she was his entire world, why can't he be the same to her? How could anyone else understand her? Love her? Please her? HE can do those things. HE knows her, HE loves her, HE wants her, HE needs her, more than any of them ever did or ever will.

He broke out of prison for her. He sent his soldiers on a back-breaking hunt for her. He waited, and waited, and waited - in that tree, in that container, in his tomb, on his throne, for hours and hours and hours, for her. Just for her. He'd NEVER waste a single second of his time like this for anyone else. No one's ever captivated him like this before. Inspired him, hypnotized him. Not even when he was still a hero. She's different. She truly is a goddess. HIS goddess. They're two halves of one whole. So different, but so much alike in so many ways. It is destiny. THEY are destiny.

And if he has to resume his reign of terror, if he has to crush every spice under his command, if he has to comb every inch of Beast-Yeast- no, the WORLD - in search of her, if he has to raze what little remains of her civilization to the ground, if he has to rip all of her friends to pieces, if he has to beat that absolute truth into her himself, then SO FUCKING BE IT!

Haha delusional mass murdering stalker go brrr

Hope this unwarranted writing ramble satisfies you lol

[dreamscapesofimagination]

Let Me Give You My Life

A/N: I'm so proud of this tbh pls love it. Posts may slow down (more lol). I’m studying for the GRE, and how well I do determines if I can get into the masters program I want to do, which then determines getting into medical school. I love the support I’ve been getting- likes, reblogs (seeing yalls tags on the reblogs makes me smile like a fool!) yall are the best!

Warnings: Cursing, Angst? Mams is insecure and possessive af but man does he ADORE you, confessions- Asmo and Lucifer are sick of y'all.

Summary: Diavolo throws a ball to celebrate some event that Mammon honestly couldn’t remember- especially not when he saw you.

—-----------

This was annoying.

Mammon had had plans tonight- a job. Sure, it was some low-budget modeling shoot for what were some hideous clothes, but still. It was going to pay well (way better than the clothes were worth, but thats because they wanted the Mammon- not some random, low-life demon)

And yet, here he was at this lame-ass ball Diavolo was throwing- commemorating some sort of success that Mammon frankly didn’t care about. Lucifer had made the attendance of the Student Council mandatory- threatening to hog-tie anyone who didn’t attend and leave them for Cerberus to toy with.

Mammon suppressed a shiver at the memory of the last time he had been subjected to that punishment. It had taken four showers and a bath to get all of the damned drool off of him- and he had needed to completely throw out his clothes.

Bastard. He glared at the back of Lucifer’s head, the elder across the room, deep in conversation with Barbatos.

Attendance was mandatory.

So where the hell was Asmo- and more importantly where the hell were you?

An ugly feeling reared its head in his chest as he thought of you sneaking around with his younger brother. Why would you be with Asmo, and not the Great Mammon?

“You know, glaring at him isn’t going to make his head explode,” Satan’s dry voice sounded from next to him, and Mammon shot a glance at the blonde demon.

“Maybe he’ll get the hint that making this mandatory was stupid. Does he not understand that some of us have better things to do?” Mammon griped.

Satan scoffed, “Sure, better to hustle money for debts you have no intention of paying back.”

Mammon’s frown deepened at his brother’s words. It never hurt less to hear how little his brothers thought of him- as if somehow his sin being greed made him lower than them. As if Asmo wouldn’t fuck anything that breathed near him, as if Beel hadn’t wreaked havoc due to his damn stomach, and as if Lucifer hadn’t damn near killed you due to his pride. Yet Mammon was somehow beneath them because he liked money and things? Bullshit.

He opened his mouth to shoot back a scathing retort about how actually he was going to use the money from the shoot to buy you the necklace that he had seen you eyeing at the jewelry store everytime he dragged you past it- but the gasps around the room pulled his attention to the staircase, and his jaw dropped.

Oh, you looked expensive. A shimmering gold dress clung to your form in all the right places (though you didn’t have any wrong places, a fact that Mammon would never say out loud).

Your thick thigh flashed from the dangerously high slit with every step down the staircase. He was faintly aware of Asmo behind you, but he knew that the attention of the room was on you, and not the demon of Lust.

That ugly feeling reared its head again when he saw Lucifer approach you, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand- no doubt with a stupid smirk on his face.

Mammon recognized the feeling, and it was much more in line with Levi’s sin than his own.

You shone more than the piles of Grimm in the bank vaults- and Mammon wanted nothing more than to steal you away and horde you to himself, like a dragon in the fantasy books you would ramble to him about. The dragons were the biggest thing he remembered, too lost in the sound of your voice to really process anything else. Besides, you said that his horns and wings reminded you of the dragons- something you had said with such a sweet voice that it was all he could do to not swoop in and kiss you.

And yet Lucifer was taking you to the dance floor, one hand wrapped around your waist.

Satan said something, but the blood rushing in Mammon’s ears muffled the sound, and when he received no response, Satan rolled his eyes and left.

Mammon wanted to approach you, steal you away from that smug bastard. But he didn’t, unable to summon the courage. Because if he did, then you would question him. If you questioned him, he would say the wrong thing- or worse, confess and face rejection from the one person in all the realms who has never looked at him with disdain.

Instead, he watched from the sidelines, snatching a flute of some sort of champagne off a waiters tray, downing it in a gulp.

After the song ended, you smiled brightly at Lucifer- a smile that should have been directed at Mammon. He watched you leave the ballroom, going out to the balcony.

“You planning on making a move? If not I’ll go see if she needs any company- after all she does look stunning in the dress I picked out,” Mammon’s gaze snapped to Asmo, whom he fixed with a glare.

“You keep your damn paws off of her- she’s my human,” he snarled. Amusement sparkled in Asmo’s eyes, and the younger laughed, “You’re lucky she only has eyes for you.”

Now that made Mammon stutter.

“Whaddya talking about?” he demanded.

Feigning ignorance, Asmo said, “maybe you should just go talk to her and stop being a moron- honestly, I love romance but at this point it is nauseating to see you two dance around each other.” With that, Asmo flounced off to chatter to some lower demon.

Mammon hated to admit it, but Asmo had piqued his interest.

Almost without his knowledge, his legs took him across the room, and he entered the balcony, carefully shutting the door behind him.

And you stole his breath away again, bathed in the faint light spilling through the windows, looking up at the stars.

You looked over your shoulder, flashing him a heart-stopping smile, “Mams! I was wondering when you were gonna come see me. The party isn’t as fun if I’m not with you.”

His cheeks burned at your words.

“We-well, I didn’t want to interrupt your dance with Lucifer,” he all but spat the Avatar of Prides name.

You giggled, “what? Are you jealous?”

Mammon rapidly shook his head, jamming his hands into his pockets as you turned to face him, leaning back on the railing.

His eyes shamelessly flitted over your form, and he imagined himself tearing into your soft flesh, burrowing a home inside your flesh where neither of you would know where one ended and the other began.

You raised an eyebrow, “You sure? I mean, I’d rather have danced with the Great Mammon, but he was too busy glaring daggers at his brother to make a move.”

You pushed off the railing, carefully approaching Mammon, who felt himself freeze in place.

All he could do was watch you, heart hammering in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck- and damn your height because this provided Mammon a particularly entrancing view of the pendant nestled in your cleavage- the necklace he had wanted to buy you.

He dragged his eyes back to your face, seeing amusement in your sweet gaze.

“Lucifer said it was from you,” He watched your plump lips move.

He shook his head, mumbling, “Was gonna get it for you with the pay from the gig I had lined up.”

The fact that Lucifer had gotten to it before him caused a pit in his stomach- why would you choose Mammon if you could choose his responsible, reliable older brother?

“You’re so sweet, Mams. Thank you.”

His face burned- him? Sweet?

Your soft gaze was akin to a siren song, and it was all he could do to not fall into you.

Tilting your head, you spoke with a rosy blush on your round cheeks, “Mammon,” he would do anything to hear his name fall from your lips again, “I waited for you to say something, but I don’t want to wait any more. I want to be with you. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel like you do. I just need to know if you feel the same. If you don’t we can just go back to being friends and I’ll never bring it up again-” you were cut off when he surged forward, lips slamming against yours as his hands settled on the swell of your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you close. He swallowed down the noise of surprise that left you, relishing the feeling of you melting into him.

He didn’t know how to avoid saying the wrong thing- but he could act.

You were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted- and he would fall from Grace a million times over if this is where he ended up. You, pressed against him, hands tangling in his white hair as your lips melded together, his hands digging into your softness, melting together until you were one.

The two of you broke away, and Mammon was sure you were an angel when he took in your flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and dazed eyes.

He pressed his forehead to yours, chest heaving as he sucked in the air- air he would be happy to never breathe again if it meant he never had to stop kissing you.

“I’m yours- have been since you first showed up.” his words were whispered, hands coming up to cradle your face, falling into your lips again- greedy for more, more kisses, more closeness, more you.

He would trade all the Grimm in the Devildom to keep you close- if he was a dragon from your fairytales then you were the treasure he would horde.