#its tiring to set up all those traps

[hereissomething]

jigsaw napping on his fridge bf's tumbie. send post

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 3

The creature's surprise surprises everyone else.

“It understands English?” Dick asks with a thoughtful tone lacing his voice.

“Or recognizes the motion of the wave as something benign,” Damian proposes, tense as a live wire as he keeps eagle eyes on Cass below.

Cass raises her hands, and though she does so slowly no amount of surprise keeps the creature from restarting that odd, piercing warning sound.

“Don't be afraid,” she says slowly and clearly, her hands moving to sign the words as she speaks. “I'm a friend.”

Despite there being no iris or pupil to be found in those glowing eyes, the way they dart back and forth between her hands and her mask is clear to see.

It doesn't stop growling, but it does shift uneasily. 

Cass's hands move to sign without speaking.

Do you understand me?

Nothing, save for the flicking of bottomless eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

The creature twitches, like being asked such a thing is a surprise. It takes a long moment - as if the question must be some kind of trap - before its head jerks in a jittery, hesitant nod.

More than one person's breath catches audibly over comms.

The set of Cass's shoulders softens in a way that telegraphs a smile, one that can't be seen past her mask.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with her voice.

Knows English but not sign, she says with her hands.

Smart girl. With that knowledge she can sign to the Bats without the creature realizing her hands are saying anything different than her mouth.

As soon as nice to meet you spills into the open air, the creature stops growling. For something with such an inhuman, blank face it telegraphs shock and confusion loudly.

Actually, it…it's almost like Bruce can feel those things himself, like something brushing against the base of his brain. It's disturbing and fascinating all at once.

Perhaps the feelings of dread and disturbance being near it causes is more than just fear of the unknown.

If it can project its own feelings, can it also sense theirs? Bruce isn't sure how he feels about that idea.

“Are you hurt?”

Definitely guarding chest. Bleeding.

“Bleeding?” Tim asks. 

“Chest hurts?”

Bleeding green.

“It's bleeding the Lazarus water?” Tim hisses. 

“I'm sorry,” Jason's voice cuts in on comms. “Your creature is bleeding what now?”

“Unconfirmed, but the color is similar,” Bruce says.

Jason is on standby, gracious enough to be patrolling a little further than his usual to cover the gaps while they deal with whatever this is.

Gracious is actually a stretch considering the choice words he'd had about the request when asked. Still, the protests had been more routine than truly venomous.

Bruce suspects he's mostly displeased with not being on site if his siblings need him in the face of a total unknown.

“Do you need help?” Cass's voice rings out softly again.

Doesn't want to admit injury.

“A doctor?”

There are flinches all around as that finally gathers a marked reaction, and a negative one. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, like a million light bulb filaments breaking and fizzling out. The cadence is odd, almost like the creature is trying to speak.

“No doctor! Okay, no doctor. It's okay.”

Afraid. Terrified.

The sound stutters out again, that odd feeling against the base of Bruce's skull and the wide eyes of the creature projecting confusion and disbelief over the easy acquiescence. 

This is not an entity that expects to have its desires or fears cared about. Bruce has a bad feeling it's an expectation borne from experience.

Once again, he thinks with a sick feeling about the fact that he hadn't stopped to consider the creature might be reasoned with until Cass stepped in.

“Can I come closer?”

The creature whines as if it's a frightened stray, not a shadowy nightmare. Its claws click against the pavement in a manner that feels distinctly nervous. 

“Please? I won't hurt you.”

Tired. Can't go for much longer and knows it.

They all watch closely as the creature's eyes flicker up and towards the line of police cruisers and officers at the very end of the alley, then back to Cass.

Its claws keep clicking. 

The pool of green below it might be bigger, or it might just be the new knowledge that the substance is like blood messing with Bruce's nerves.

“I'm coming over. Slow. I won't hurt you.”

Weighing their options. Either me or cops. Knows that too.

True to her word, Cass moves slowly.

The creature's tail lashes and it grumbles its unrest, but it doesn't snarl like before and it doesn't lash out even when she's certainly close enough for those long spindly arms to reach.

Cass sinks to her knees just feet from it, posture intentionally open. Carefully, she offers another wave and a pleased, “Hello. See? All okay.”

Bruce's heart seizes. For just a moment, the wide glowing eyes angled to look up at Cass read as painfully young. Like a frightened child.

“You need help,” Cass almost whispers, hands laying on her thighs in plain sight. “No doctors, I know. But maybe a safe place? Come with me?”

Surely the comms have never been so silent as they are while Cass turns her hands over and extends them, like she's inviting the creature to place its own in her palms.

“Keep you safe. I promise.”

For a long few moments, the creature is so silent and still it may well have frozen in time.

Then there's a mourning keen that nearly buckles Bruce at the knees and the creature is moving. 

Instead of taking her hands, it drags itself forward and grabs at her to a chorus of panicked shouts on the comms. So quickly nobody has time to react, it's dragged itself up to cling to her shoulders and bury its face in her neck.

The shadowy frame trembles when she holds it in return.

Masterpost

[jarofstyles]

Growing Pains

Hey lovely people 🫶 here is a bit more of the Stacy’s Mom universe. Its a nice mix of angst, smut and fluff. Let me know what else you'd like to see from them if you'd like to see more!

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WC- 5.9k

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, age gap relationship, cream pie, bellybulging, praise kink, use of 'mama', angst, not too long tbh, mentions of misogyny, etc

-----

Harry was really good at ignoring what other people thought. 

It had always been one of those personality traits that people said they envied, but his whole life’s philosophy is why care if you’re happy? If he wasn’t hurting anyone, if he was happy and solid in what he was doing, why did it matter what someone else thought? 

He knew there would be inevitable pushback against him being in a serious relationship with Y/N. And it was serious, as he had made abundantly clear. It wasn’t at all conventional and in their small, gossip ridden town, it wasn’t a shock in the slightest that the rumor mill began buzzing as soon as they stepped out into town together for the first time, Harry taking her to dinner at a decent place of her choosing. 

Their dates had been majority in the towns over just so they could enjoy their little bubble of happiness. Y/N spent time at his place when Stacy was home for the first few weeks, Harry going to hers when she was away, but he had to assure her that he knew Stacy would be upset and he’d talk to her himself. 

It was a hard thing to navigate considering Y/N utterly adored her daughter. She’d been pushing her mother to go out on dates , get back out there, all of the girl power stuff since the divorce was finalized- but the woman highly doubted she meant with someone in her friend group. 

All things considered, the pros and cons had been weighed and juggled and there had been no reason to keep hiding it after two months in. For a bit, Y/N had been holding on to the secrecy because she was afraid he’d tire of her. That she’d damage her relationship with her daughter and in the town for a fling that the younger man would be bored with after a bit. It was unfair to think that of Harry, she knew that, but considering her ex husband had essentially done that very thing to her? It had lingered in the back of her mind. 

To his credit, Harry had been nothing but understanding and patient with her. He didn’t push too hard to go public, but he didn’t hide his desire for it either. Y/N was his, and he wasn’t ashamed of her in the slightest. He’d go up to bat for her again and again if it meant he got to keep her. The man wasn’t stupid- he knew a lot of the backlash would fall onto her. Something he’d happily take the burden of if he could. It was a conversation they revisited quite a few times, Harry holding her against him as his fingers traced the curves of her face while she expressed her fears. Luckily, it seemed that his feelings for her had proven it a worthy risk after he started talking more about the future. 

Maybe with anyone else it would be coming on too strong. Hell- it had come on too strong at first, spooking Y/N when he’d asked if she was open to having more kids. If she wanted to get married again. Both things she hadn’t given much thought to before he brought it up. It had sent her spiraling for a few days, worried that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to give him the things he needed. That he’d be throwing away his youth for her instead of exploring, that she would be essentially trapping him. Her worst fear was him resenting her for settling him down. 

It had caused their first fight, one of their only. His jaw had been tight when he showed up to her place after being ignored all day, arms crossed as she opened the door. He’d been dirty and sweaty from work, the sun hadn’t set yet but he had been worried sick when she had stopped replying after their initial good morning messages. 

“Are you alright?” Eyes scanned her all over to observe for sickness, injury, but found nothing. His features twisted as his eye scanned her pocket, jaw ticking when he saw the phone sitting inside of it. “What's the problem?” He asked lowly. “Worried me fuckin’ sick all day, but I see the phone in your pocket. Don’t play those games with me, Y/N. You’re a grown woman and that’s part of why m’so gone for you.” 

She blanched, swallowing the lump in her throat as she dropped her eyes. “I…” a shaky inhale interrupted the chirping crickets. “I don’t want to hold you back, Harry. I don’t want you to wake up one day, thinking about how you wasted the rest of your twenties on me. How… how you jumped in feet first, landing hard and buckling your knees because I’m exciting for a while.” It hurt to even think about, let alone say out loud. “I’m terrified that you’ll hate me for it. I think we’re going too fast.” 

Harry didn’t answer for a moment. All she heard was a sharp exhale, seeing him tip his head back in her peripheral vision. Like he was exhausted, trying to collect himself before speaking. Rolling his neck, he looked back at her. “So you’ve worked yourself up over a situation that hasn’t even happened. That won’t happen, considering I’ve been thinking about having you since we fuckin’ met. Is that right?” He sounded mad because he was. Frustrated, more so, at the situation. He’d been able to feel her pulling away a little bit the last few days but he’d felt that sickness in his stomach the whole day when she had been quiet and not responsive to his messages. 

It wasn't like he was a super clingy guy. He knew that he could be in person, he liked to be touchy, but he rarely expected constant communication. Y/N was her own woman and he liked that about her, but this wasn’t something he was a fan of. 

The tone of his voice made her reel back, eyes snapping up to him at he looked at her with an irritated expression. He never spoke to her like that, let alone looks at her like she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t a nice feeling in the slightest. “Let’s be honest here, Harry.” Her irritation rose. “Yeah, I’ve worked myself up over a situation that could realistically happen. It’s one thing to fuck older women, but it’s another to settle down and be in a committed relationship with one.”

It was the wrong thing to say, simplifying their relationship like that, and she knew it. His nostrils flared as he looked at her with slight disbelief. “S’that all we’ve been doing, Y/N? Fucking?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Cause I was under the impression that you were my girlfriend and we were figuring it out. Silly fucking me then. Just a little boy, huh?” 

“No- Harry, don’t you do that.” She growled back. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I could be a lot of fun right now but later on down the line it maybe won’t be. Ill slow down faster than you, I’ll get wrinkles before you, I won’t be able to keep up-“

“And you know what I’ll do then?” He stepped closer to her. “I’ll slow down with you. I’ll get wrinkles too. I could be bald. Are you gonna leave me if my hair starts to thin?” 

“N-no.” She whispered, wind leaving her sails as she replied. 

“Yeah; I know you wouldn’t. Just like you should know I wouldn’t.” There was a pregnant pause, the warm early evening stinging her skin because, fuck. She was just terrified. 

“I wouldn’t. I’m not like him, and I know he… I know there’s that underlying trauma and stuff there. I know and m’so sorry an ass like that ever got his hands on you at all. But please try and see that I’m not him. There is no boredom. If there ever was- which there wouldn’t be- I’d come to you, I’d talk to you. I’d never cheat on you.” Stepping closer to her, his fingers curled around her cheeks, searching her face for something she couldn’t place. Apparently he found it, though, because his shoulders dropped and he nudged her face up in his grip, thumbs rubbing her the apples of her cheeks.

 “I’ve dreamed of you for years, Y/N. If I’d get tired of you, I’d have done it already. But honestly?” Licking over his bottom lip, he pinned his gaze to hers. “I don’t see how that’s even remotely fucking possible. You’ve become everything t’me so quickly it should be scary, but m’not anything but ecstatic. Giddy. Please give me some credit. I’m younger than you, but I’m not stupid. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve got the most incredible, intelligent, kind, generous, beautiful woman in my hands. Do you think I didn’t get a little nervous at first?” 

No, actually. No she didn’t. Harry hadn’t even hinted at it, but it grabbed her interest, confusion marring her features. To be truthful, he’d never seemed to waver when it came down to her and this relationship. “I didn’t.” She admitted, feeling a bit of shame for not even considering it. 

“Before I went for it, I was… it was hard to tell if you’d be alright dating someone so much younger than you. If you’d think I could handle you.” He smiled sadly. “There were a few times I was going to try and get you alone t’talk about it but fate was in my hands when you called me that night. I was over the fuckin’ moon, but still nervous. It made me feel better when I could tell you were looking at me, that I wasn’t makin’ it up in my head like I’d originally thought. And then…” his lip curled in a smirk at the memory of taking her against the counter. It was one of his favorite memories of all time. “Then I was pretty settled, but there were still nerves that you’d push me away like this. I thought I was in the clear this far along, that I’d proven how much m’utterly enamored with you but it seems I’ve got work to do.” 

The anger was gone from his body, replaced with a sadness. He didn’t like the thought of her hemming and hawing over if he would get bored of her when he constantly needed to pinch himself over the knowledge that she was his. “I just need to reassure you that since I was a kid, I’ve been set in my ways. I still like the same food as I did as a child, the same shows, the same music. If I really like something? It’s there to stay.” He wasn’t obtuse. Of course relationships had their issues and there was no expectation of perfection 24/7, but he wanted to keep it as peaceful as he could. 

Y/N’s face scrunched, bottom lip trembling as tears glossed over her eyes. It was embarrassing to cry over this, but the words were the reassurance she had desperately needed. “I’m sorry.” The apology was a little whimper before he sighed, pulling her into his body. Large hand running up and down her back, the woman leaned into the comfort of the larger man and relaxed into his form, burying her face in his neck. He still smelled like a bit of oil and sweat but his sweet and fresh soap lingered underneath, giving her the comfort she hadn’t known she needed so badly all day. 

“S’okay, darling. Let’s go inside and sit for a bit, hm? We’ve got t’talk a bit more about what’s bothering you.” 

And they did. They talked for hours that day, Harry holding her legs across his lap as he watched her express the fears she’d been holding back. In all honesty he knew it had needed to happen to make them stronger, and it did. 

It was showing a bit tonight, though. 

“What’s the matter?” His voice was delicate as his palm ran over her hip, curling his fingers into the soft shirt. “Hm? You’re bein’ awfully quiet tonight. Can tell something’s bothering you.” 

Y/N still was shocked at how perceptive the man could be. He seemed to know the slightest shift of her mood and  it had spooked her a bit at first, but now she realized she couldn’t hide much from him. Perhaps it was her own life lesson that she needed to trust someone, but still. 

“It’s silly.” She sighed softly, reaching a hand up to cup his stubbly chin. The comfort of his touch had only gotten stronger since they’d gotten together, the mixture of feeling delicate in his hold but empowered considering she knew he would move the moon if she asked him to. 

“Not silly if you’re thinking about it.” He clicked his tongue. “Off with it then, pretty girl.” 

“It’s… one of those women, the one you slept with from Stacy’s swim club… she was awfully bitter about us being together. Tried to tell me that I was just a phase of yours- which, I see your eyebrows, I know that isn’t true and that isn’t why I’m upset.” She laughed quietly, gently pinching his cheek. “I just couldn’t believe the audacity of her. Trying to tell me how passionate you are in bed, doing all sorts of catty things… I know she’s jealous, I’m rational enough to deduce that she’s just a bit crazy but it irritated me that she talked as if you’re some sort of object. Like you’re… an accessory or something.” 

Y/N had found herself very defensive of the man in the months they’d been together, and while she was aware he had slept with other woman, she hadn’t expected them to be so awful about him. 

“Darling…” Harry chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. “To her, I am an object. I gave her nothing of me besides physicality. And I can assure you, it wasn’t very passionate. It couldn’t hold a candle to you. In all honesty, I haven’t thought about another woman in months. Forgot about her, actually.” Harry had no woman on his radar except her. He was so utterly smitten with the woman in front of him that he knew he would never think of another woman in any sort of way again. 

“Yeah. It is silly, because I know you’re devoted to me-“

“And I am, Mama.” He purred, his hand gently tugging on the ends of her hair to lean it back to where he wanted it. “I’m completely and utterly devoted to you. You’re my goddess, didn’t you know that?” The hushed voice made her swallow thickly, the hand on her hip pushing under her shirt. “There is no one else I think about. They don’t exist to me. The only woman occupying my brain is you.” Lips pressed against her forehead, exhaling slow and heavy through his nose. “I’m obsessed with you. Don’t you know?”

“I-I do.” She stuttered. Somehow, the man years younger than her had a way of completely making her fall back into the shy younger girl she used to be. Giggly and giddy, shy when he would express such sweet things to her. Her ex had never been this verbally kind to her, let alone wax on about how much he adored her. It still shocked her. 

“Mm… good. Because I have no problem reminding you, baby. None at all.” His nose brushed hers, letting their breathing mingle. “I’ll be happy to remind you every single day that you’re the woman of my dreams and the other people I’ve been with don’t exist to me. They’re nothing compared to you. My dream girl.” 

Y/N took the first bite, pulling him down to kiss her. It was a need now, not even just a want. She needed to feel him, to taste him. It was still new to her, how adored he made her feel, and all she could do was hope he knew she felt the same. “H….” She whispered, breaking apart from their kiss as his hand slipped under the waistband of her shorts, wiggling down to cup her ass. 

“Hm?” He chuckled lowly. “Do you need me to remind you, Mama? Want me to show you just how obsessed I am with you?” 

The woman didn’t want to need that reassurance, but she really did enjoy a reminder considering she knew how he was going to give it to her. “I think I could use a refresher, yeah.” She replied, watching his grin grow before he kissed her again, hauling her body up and into his arms. Ignoring the squeal, he brought her into his bedroom, laying her on the sage green comforter and let his thumbs tug at the shorts. 

“I’ll give you as many refreshers as you need, my girl.” He hummed, letting his shirt follow and fall to the ground as Y/N followed suit. His eyes zeroed in to her panties, easily getting on his knees and grabbed her thighs to pull closer to the end of the bed. “S’been too long, hasn’t it? You’ve been mean and kept me away from my pussy.” He shook his head, kissing over the fabric. 

“I was on my period!” She squeaked, watching his fingers curl into the waistband of her panties. 

“And?” He lifted his eyes to her own. “Told you that it doesn't matter t’me. Put down a towel.” He wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Even more so because he knew it would potentially help cramps, but he respected her decision to not want to. 

“Oh god….” Her head fell back as his tongue licked over the sligh through the fabric, wetting it. “Harry… you can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He assured. “It’s your decision, but M’just saying it doesn’t gross me out and I don’t care. But now you’re off of it, and M’gonna take full advantage of that.”

Y/N gasped as the panties were tugged off in a hurry, so fast she had barely realized they were gone before his face was buried in her pussy. “Oh my g-god, H.” She laughed in shock, though it quickly melted into a moan as he pressed his tongue over her and let his nose brush her clit. 

He had never been anything but thorough when it came to oral sex, and she had the knowledge that he thoroughly enjoyed it too. She would even contemplate if he liked it more than her, but it was hard to confirm that when she had the pleasures of his mouth. 

Harry hummed at the taste of her, slowly peeling her thighs to the side and using a finger to spread her open. “There she is. I missed this pussy, baby.” He mumbled, the sheen of her and his spit on his lips. “How could you think of me with anyone else when I can barely go four days without this, hm? Don’t you know how addicted I am?”

She had some clue. A shaky exhale left her as she watched him purse his lips, a string of spit dribbling over her exposed cunt. Somehow he made it so hot, it had become one of her favorite things. A trigger of sorts. She’d never imagined herself liking any sort of spitting, but there was something so filthy and carnal about the way he did it that she found herself squirming and wanting more each time. 

“I know you like that, baby. My sweet girl, like when m’dirty and spit on this cunt to get it wet.” He crooned, repeating the action. He watched as the spit dribbled down to her asshole, humming in satisfaction. “You don’t need the help, not with how drenched this cunt gets for me but you like it when m’filthy with you.” 

Y/N loved how Harry was in bed. From going to somewhat pleasant missionary to completely and utterly wrecked by a man who wanted nothing more than her pleasure, it had been a complete 180 and quite frankly, rocked her damn world. “I do. I like when you’re dirty and you act like you… act like you can’t get enough.”

“Oh Mama, I can’t.” He cooed. “I can’t get enough of this perfect pussy. Obsessed with it, obsessed with you. You know I think about it all day?” His thumb drew slow, firm circles on her clit, making her buck into him a little bit. He ignored it. “Think about when I get to get to you, how all I want t’do is tear whatever’s covering you up and make you sit on my face. You do love when I do that.” 

Oh, did she fucking ever. The man was relentless with his tongue but he became a whole other beast when she sat on his face. In an area she’d been reluctant to, she had become reliant on.  

“Please… I want to cum.” She pleaded. Days after the cycle she was particularly sensitive and the man knew that far too well. 

“Then cum.” He smiled, licking over her entrance. “M’never going to say no to making my girl orgasm. But you’re gonna just keep cumming and cumming, so remember that.”

Y/N had found herself well acquainted with orgasms after years of being reliant on herself for them, but it never ceased to amaze her how the man could play her body like a violin and almost demand her orgasm. How he knew the right spots, the right tricks. No one had taken the time to get to know the things she liked quite like him, and she knew this was a rarity. Her stomach tightening, toes curling as he played with her body like he was the expert in all things pleasure.

The combination on his thumb rubbing her sensitive clit and his tongue pressing into her hole, she could feel the orgasm wash over her. Hands in his hair, she let out a broken moan, the first of many she assumed he’d give her tonight. And just like she suspected, even after the orgasm had dulled slightly, he kept going. 

“Harry, fuck.” She gasped, feeling fingers inside of her cunt and his mouth switching to circling her clit. One thing she’d learned was that he was relentless, especially when it came to making her cum.

“What baby?” He grinned mischievously. It didn’t matter that his face was filthy with her, he seemed to prefer it that way. “S’not my fault I need this pussy. You’re too perfect.” 

For the first time in her life, she was being doted on. There wasn’t a single question in her mind that Harry really was as obsessed with her as he portrayed because there was no way he could fake it this good. Tongue dipping into her entrance and thumbing her clit, working her through another before she successfully tugged him off to meet her mouth. 

Frantic hands tugged at his belt, yanking hard as he chuckled against her lips. “Eager, aren’t we?” He cooed. “C’mon then, Mama. Take me out so I can fuck you the way your greedy little cunt needs.” 

The filth that came out of his mouth was better than any of the sex she had prior to him. His unashamed nature and insistence on honesty had been intimidating at first but now she had come to crave the crass words that used to make her blush so hard it hurt. “I need it.” She whimpered, her own voice unfamiliar to her as she whined at him to get inside of her. Unbuttoning his trousers and slipping her hand inside, she felt how hot and hard he was on her palm. The tip wetting her skin as she stroked him under the fabric, the other hand trying to push the pants down so he was free of the confines. 

“Impatient little thing. I love it.” He grinned, helping her as he balanced over her with one arm. “Can barely let me undress, need to get your beautiful body filled up with me in every way. That’s exactly how I want you every day.” Desperate for him. His hips rubbed into her hand, breathing getting harder as she swiped her thumb over the tip and made him clench his jaw. Her little outfit had been tossed off easily and there was something so dirty about him fucking her almost clothed and her, practically naked. “Put me in, then. You can do it, baby.” 

There was that added layer of intimacy that had her preening, sticky lips connecting with hers as she felt his hips lower and gave her that little bit of control. Swiping the tip through her slickness, he inhaled sharply through his nose before she placed him at her entrance, lifting her leg around his waist. His patience was thin, not waiting more than a few moments before sinking into her. Swallowing her whine as he slipped his hand under her neck to hold it, licking into her mouth until he was balls deep in her. Filling her up to the brim with him, making her feel that sort of full that only he could provide. 

“God…” Y/N whined, leaning her head back into the bed as Harry pulled out slowly, letting her feel every ridge of his cock before pushing back in hard. “You’re…” it was hard to talk at times when he fucked her. While he could run his mouth, Y/N had her mind scrambled as soon as he slipped into her. His dick made her feel drunk and in love. 

“Mhm, I know.” He soothed, though the smug look on his face made his thoughts clear. He loved that she was cockdrunk and fuzzy from her orgasms, wet and soft for him and welcoming his thickness inside of her. It was made for him. “You don’t even have a clue of how much I thought about this, my girl. Don’t even know the filth I’d think of seeing you in those pretty fucking sundresses- fuck.” He growled, the weakness for them evident. She’d noticed it early on, how he’d been exceptionally handsy when she wore them. Maybe she had five new ones since she’d found out- he would see them eventually. 

“What did you… what did you think about?” Poking the bear wasn’t usually her thing, but his mouth was sex itself. Being fucked slow and deep as he spoke about his fantasies of her was something she couldn’t pass up. 

“Things that are so dirty, it would make you squirm.” He mumbled, grinding himself inside of her. The wet walls around him clenched up as she looked at him with her hazy eyes, fingers tangled in his necklace. “Thought about taking you to his old office and bending you over that desk. Fucking you nice and deep with my hand over your mouth while everyone else was in the pool, go back out with my dick covered in you.” The cunt around him clamped down, alerting him to just how much his girl liked that idea. “You like that? Would you have done it for me, sweet girl? Let me hike up that skirt and make you keep watch at the window to make sure no one was coming inside? Because… I really wouldn’t care if someone heard.” 

Y/N knew it was fucked up to like the idea of being caught by her daughters friends while being fucked by one, but he had  this way of framing it that made her feel it to her bones. His thick cock hitting the right places as he spoke about a fantasy she wouldn’t mind participating in. “I’d probably be shocked and- and I’d probably let you. It had been so long and you’re so gorgeous…” she swallowed. “I knew you’d be able to fuck me good when I had those hints.” 

Those catching glimpses of him eyeing her up, or seeing how he gave her all his attention when she spoke. How he’d always help her out in the kitchen and chat with her while the rest of the group was involved in other things- letting his hand brush her or his body squeeze past her. He’d given signals. 

“Fuck.” His head dropped against hers, pulling out and giving a particularly deep thrust, making her clutch his arm. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you like that? Filthy little thing, Mama. You amaze me…” the idea of her being fucked in her ex husband’s home office was a delicious fuck you to him and empowerment to her. Let a man who could properly make her cum and multiple times at that, show her how sexy she was to him. 

Y/N connected their lips again as she nudged him, signaling him to let them roll over. Harry was never one to tell her no when she wanted something, let alone when she wanted to ride him. “Would you let me sit in his chair, ride me like this?” Hands grabbed at her plush hips, helping her grind on top of him. “I’d take you anywhere, baby. Make you feel good wherever and however you want. You don’t even know how gone I am for you.” 

In some instances Harry’s honesty had her a bit nervous, but when it came to things like this? She was ever so fucking thankful he was an open book with her. There was no shortage of reassurance, no hiding how he felt. The man was as up front and honest as someone could be and after she got over how overwhelming it could be, she relished in how she never had to guess. Harry never made her wonder how he was feeling, if he was mad, if he liked what she was doing. He let her fucking know, loud and clear, and the anxiety she used to experience in her last relationship in that regard was practically nonexistent. “Me too. I am too, I promise.” She nodded, grinding herself down on his cock. 

Harry’s thighs and balls were going to be sticky and wet by the time this was done but he was craving that. Having her traces all over his skin was something he had come to look forward to, to look at as another part of the erotic package that was his girl. Hands held her hips as he helped guide her, head tipped back to watch the pleasure flash on her face. “It’s deep, isn’t it Mama?” He crooned. “Do you feel it in there? Fuck, I can see it…” His deep groan echoed in her room as he took his hand and placed it right over her belly. Felt each time she moved on him, his mouth falling open as he tugged her hand to feel it. “Right there. That’s how deep I am. My perfect fuckin’ girl, got me tucked in your belly like that…” His voice was wrecked, trying to ignore how tight it made his balls but that was an impossible feat. 

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck, you’re so deep in me.” Y/N sulked, brows furrowing as his hand kept hers on the spot, feeling it each time she sunk back down. “You’re… Harry, please.” Her eyes budding with tears, she rocked hard on his lap and knocked her head against his. “Cum in me, right there. I want it deep, I want it to stay there. Please, please… Please, H.” 

The pleading was so fucking hot that he could have keeled over. This object of his affections getting his dick as deep as possible, pleading with him to cum in her cute little tummy and tightening her cunt over him like the idea of it was the best thing her body had ever fathomed… He was the luckiest sonofabitch that got to live. Feeling the silky, scorching walls of her cunt clenching around him like it was begging for the same thing her mouth was, he couldn’t hold it back. 

The broken groan left the man’s mouth while she hurriedly humped over him, Whimpering against his cheek, her mouth fell open as she felt each and every ribbon of cum heat her up, slicking up her insides with his orgasm. Her hand fell away and covered his as he felt her grinding get sloppy, her clit rubbing against the thatch of hair right above his cock. It was messy, sloppy, unpracticed, but so fucking good she felt like she could pass out. Repeating his name as she came, her nails scratched over his bicep, using his cock like a toy to work herself through the orgasm. 

“There you go, baby. You’re so perfect.” He whispered, pulling her back and licking into her mouth. There was no denying that the man could kiss in any scenario, but when he was balls deep and she was full of his cum, his kisses were some of the hottest she had ever felt. In truth, she hadn’t realized a kiss could be that hot until he’d done it the first time. She whined as he sucked over her tongue, keening into his mouth as her tired body started to slow her grinds and sat with him snug inside of her. Even with a taste of him, she wasn’t properly done with him. “Fuck- stay there. Keep my cock warm.” He muttered, stroking the messy hair from her cheeks with his fingers. His body was sticky with sweat and her arousal, his own mix leaking from her and onto the bed, but there was no rush to go anywhere. 

“God.” Y/N exhaled shakily, resting her head against his neck. Words escaped her as she tried not to get too excited again with the weak twitches of his prick she could feel.

“That’s okay, but I prefer Harry.” The smirk was audible in his voice, but she didn’t have the energy to roll her eyes. The large paw of a hand ran up and down her back, the heartbeat still felt in her ears. “I’ll never get tired of that.” The second sentence was sincere. The man always did seem in awe after they finished having sex, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten to this point. 

“Me either.” She muttered, keeping her eyes closed as she cuddled into him. He still had the scent of coffee on him, maybe a hint of cigarettes, but the comforting one outweighed the rest of them. Y/N hadn’t had a man like him before but she knew now that he was exactly what she’d been missing. Even if he had grease on his tee shirts, sometimes smelled like oil, and had a bit of a grumpy attitude- he’d always put her first. He’d work with his hands to build up the world for her instead of buying it. He had the skill and follow through to do so. “I wanna do it again.” 

“Christ, woman. I’ve made a monster out of you, haven’t I?” His tired chuckle made her grin against his throat, pecking over the hollow of it. “You’re gonna regret that later, but m’not gonna say no.” Flipping her over to lay on her back, her eyes met his again as he smiled down at her. “C’mon, Mama. Tell me what you want me to do next.”

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

OM charicters and how they handle periods

Lucifer

- can and will fuck the shir outta ya if it helps-

- he will also baby you

- I mean- he literally sends the brothers out to gather sweets and other needs

- heated blanket on hand for you

- you can sleep in his bed

- he watches over you as you sleep of you get tired

- none will hurt his little lamb

Mammon

- he panicks

- you're BLEEDING WTFFFF

- especially worried and unprepared if you don't identify as a female

- thinks you're dieing and lucifer wil kill him

- when its explained he does good and gets everything he knows you need

- here, have literally all this expensive chocolate he knows you like

- have all the midol he could find

- have the products you need to survive this- and more♡

Levi

- he probably learned about periods trough anime/an online AFAB friend

- he wont mind if you stay with him, he can clean whatever gets blood on it, you chose to spend time with him, he is hapoy with that :>

- anime and video games to distract you

- you can sleep in his lap as he plays

- you get to share his anime themed snacks

Satan

- for those who get moody during hell, he is here to help

- cat Cafe is the haven for you both-

- he also gets his anger out with you in healthy ways

- you both write out everything, scream out your toughts into the Forrest, and sing along to songs that bring out that anger

- afterwards he will read to you until you fall asleep

- he takes good care of you

Asmo

- feeling extra ✨️horny✨️ he is here to help

- he fucks ya fore a few hours then you both have a nice hot bath, makeovers and stuff

- you get sugar coded fruits with him

- sleep like Royalty and wake up feeling refershed✨️

- literally a phone call away for anything

- period products are in his bathroom too

Beel

- this man has the comfort food

- he will allways share with you and Belphie

- he notices when you come to him more often for sweets and stuff, so he stocks more for you ^^

- om nom nom

- one of the best people to nap with

- he is also a good workout bud to help with the cramps n stuff too

- one of the best boys to go to tbh-

Belphie

- now- of you need sleep- he has ya

- he sees you being tired and d r a g s you to one of his spots, cuddles you, and falls asleep with you

- it's fuckin comfy so ofc you fall asleep too-

- you get only the best dreams by his side

- cuddle, sleep, it's done- he won't stop- help QwQ

Diavolo

- the me is that?

- he didn't know until you bleed trough your clothes sadly

- he helps by haveing teas with you and has barbatos find some thar help with cramping and just to make thibgs more comfortable

- sweets galore (you're allowed to take them home

- you can sit on his lap and cuddle him, he is warm

Barbatos

- he knows when your periods are, its not weird-

- he has products set up in the bathroom near the room you're staying in and the next fee over just in case

- he brings you tea and sweets that help you

- he has a change of clothes for you on the ready along with spare blankets/sheets/pillows

- he can take care of any and i mean ANY of your needs, just ask ^^

Simeon

- he isn't that exposed to them, so he dosent know what to do or if he can interfere

- he decides that he can if you beg him enough or he sees that you're suffering

- finds things that can calm the symptoms and help your body

- gentle massages

- he is a little cold but damn can he take care of you

Luke:

- also has no idea wtf to do

- he learns sweets help and bakes alot for you

- like- they all are get well things or if you like to celebrate it then the sweets are red and pink

- he'll tell off anyone who tries to bother you

Solosus

- he has a potion for that

- you just have to beg

- :>

Thirteen

- hasn't had one, but she likes to help you if you promise to help her on a trap

- or you can be the trap by surprising someone with your moodyness

- she gets the perfect things for you

- a damn good tradeoff

Rapael

- like the other angles VERY confused

- he does help tho

- number 2 for sleep spots, no cuddles tho

- gets you weird foods to try

- about 5/10 could be better

Mephistophlies

- bro dosent know anything about this, why should he?

- when he does learn, he sneaks some sweets into your locker, high quality ofc

- he would give you shit as he gives you some spare clothes

- this man, he finds good shit to help ya

[reverie-starlight]

...some atsumu fluff to warm up for the birth month of me AND this blog bc he is my husband. extremely self-ship coded bc I set a million alarms and snooze them all and it would piss him off, which I love doing <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, university student reader. fluffy fluff. very short.

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

atsumu groans when he hears your alarm go off for the fifth time that morning. it's loud enough that the sound travels from behind the closed door of your bedroom all the way to where he's leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking his morning protein shake. he hears the exact moment you cut off its wailing two seconds later.

"looks like it's gonna be one of those mornings," he mumbles to himself, taking another sip. he tries to savour his last moments of early morning peace before chaos breaks out.

getting you up in the mornings could be... challenging... to put it kindly. there are just some days you don't want to get up for class or make the trek to campus. he regularly hears you whining about how you screwed yourself over with choosing too many early classes. if he's being honest, it makes him even more satisfied with his decision to not attend university. he's spent many mornings trying to coax you out from under the covers to no avail.

but thankfully miya atsumu loves a challenge.

his success rate has been 100% lately, much to your dismay and begrudging appreciation, because you both know you care too much to actually miss a lecture, no matter how much you value your sleep. so after downing the rest of his smoothie, he puts his glass in the sink and pushes himself off the counter, heading to the bedroom.

he enters the room with no intentions of being quiet and jumps right onto his side of the bed. he bites back a grin when you startle and mutter some colourful words under your breath.

"babyyyy~" his voice is full of excitement and he just knows it's making you regret shutting off your alarms.

"atsumu, please, five more min-" you begin whining, but he cuts you off.

"nope! ya gotta start your day, or you're gonna be late." he places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you a bit.

you groan. "'tsum, please. I'm so tired..."

he tuts a little. "no can do, I'm afraid. you're the one who told me you've got an exam comin' up next week."

you don't respond and he grins, knowing he's getting closer. he moves his hand from your shoulder to the comforter covering your body and rips it off.

"ATSUMU!" you shriek, trying to steal back its warmth and go back to sleep.

the blonde just laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead when you lunge for the covers. he relents and lets you believe he’s showing mercy, watching as you bury yourself back into a burrito.

“five more minutes, but if you’re not up by then I’ll really make ya regret not listenin’.”

you scoff and wave him off, incorrectly assuming he’s gone soft on you.

four and a half minutes later, he’s sneaking back into the bedroom and waiting until his timer hit exactly five minutes to pounce on you.

you yelp a little, but it quickly dissolves into peels of laughter as his hands attack every side of the blanket prison you had unknowingly trapped yourself in.

“atsumu, nO!” you attempt, but you can’t reach him from inside the blanket and he knows.

"ya brought this on yourself, sweetheart. could've had me waking ya up with kisses and some sweet talk, but ya just have to make things difficult for me, hm?"

“nooo I’m sorryyyy-“ you plead for forgiveness, beg him, anything to get him to stop tickling you.

he finally relents a bit when he realizes that you might not be able to breathe under there and watches as you peek your face out a bit, weary eyes glued to his form.

“are ya gonna get up now?”

he snickers when you nod fervently and pats your leg over the comforter. “alright, hurry up, then. I made ya coffee. I’ll walk with ya to the train.”

“won’t you be late, then?” you ask on your way to the washroom.

he shrugs. “worth it.”

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

again, super short, but very sweet I hope. birth month calls for lots of content for my favs, so get ready <3

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

doomsday ◦ h.j

—Sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind

@anon im so glad you requested this bc I literally loved writing it so much like it fr had my creative juices FLOWING so feel free to request anytime babes

Paring ◦ Han x reader

Words ◦ 5231

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this angsty asf

Warnings ◦ han is a dick at the beginning but he is redeemed, panic attacks, language (like fr so many fucks in this its wild), talk about wasting your life, anxiety, fear, han is such a cunt at first its insane, not edited, uhhh I think that's it.

A/N ◦ This one is chaotic asf so if you don't like my chaotic writing this is definitely where you might wanna click off 💀ALSO IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME like it literally doesn't have to be much you can just be like it was pretty cool

~CookieCreates🍪

Sometimes it felt like Han gave away the numbers of the clock like dollar bills, bartering off a life that only ever seemed to be rushing away like a river roaring down the rocks too fast. He scoops little moments out from the shimmering rapids, but time still trickles between his fingers; the hours melting together like wax dripping down the spindly hands, its bony fingers-

reaching

reaching

r e a c h i n g

out to him, pulling him into a pool at the bottom of his feet, a pool of glittering, glowing memories.

Is this all life is?

Working

Stressing

Never sleeping

Never eating

Is the praise worth it?

Those hopeless nights, endless days, tired eyes, and a mind made of mush—was it all worth it?

Was any of it worth it?

The roar of the crowds drowning out the sound of the seconds-

tick

tick

ticking away, the shuffle of the sand seeping into the bottom of the hourglass—he taps the crystal dome, wondering how much of it is left—wondering when it all will stop.

When he can stop.

Han was a fizzing bottle of soda—shook for too long—today was hard; every day before a comeback is: producing, singing, dancing, learning, watching, waiting-

Checking off boxes on a list that never ended, so when he finally walks into the door of your shared apartment, a room he feels like he hasn't seen in weeks, he doesn't really notice you anxiously sitting on the couch, your knees bouncing on the floor mindlessly-

snapping

snapping

snapping

on the linoleum, something so simple shouldn't set him off, sure, but the sound was so familiar—so scary—it vibrated in his head, booming in his brain seconds-

ticking

ticking

ticking away

your feet

snapping

snapping

snapping on the ground.

He comes home to get away from the world rushing out from under him, so why were you sitting there being so fucking-

“Hannie!” You beam, sprinting over to throw your arms around his neck, breathing his scent in. It feels like centuries since you've seen him last. You vibrate with nervous, excited energy, practically bouncing up and down; but the thing was, right now he didn't want to be touched.

He didn't want to be held

He didn't want to have to talk

He didn't want to have to remember he had a life outside of the bubble that was his work. It felt like he was tending to gardens he didn't know how to grow. Your relationship had already sprouted; the seed planted a while ago, but even though the delicate stages of its development had passed, that didn't mean that it still didn't have to be cared for, and right now, he didn't care about anything. 

It was selfish, sure, but when you've spent your whole life giving parts of yourself away, selfishness seems so easy, at least while you still have small slivers of your soul left. 

He grates his teeth, everything seeming so wholly overwhelming, the walls encapsulating him in an unbreakable hourglass. He was so stressed, so tired, so done, so trapped. His breath stutters when you squeeze him tighter, nuzzling your nose against his shirt, staring up at him expectantly, eyes shimmering. 

"I haven't hugged you in forever I missed your face" you giggle voice like clouds of cotton candy but not quite sweet enough to dull the sour feeling settling in his stomach

He knows that love should never feel this hard, but right now everything he did felt hard, and the way you stare at him so longingly like you're going to combust if he doesn't perform, put on a fake smile, and act like everything is okay makes him feel like a fizzing bottle of soda with a lid screwed on too tight, and when you grip him tighter, trying to push an answer out of him

He flips his lid. 

"Holy shit, y/n, do you have to be so bombarding?" He snaps, pushing your arms away from him, almost looking disgusted. Your smile slips, staring at him in shock, still not really registering what he said. 

He doesn't know what feels worse—the way your features tremble with hurt or the way he knows he doesn't care. 

"I'm tired; I just want to go to bed, okay, and you are immediately rushing me; every day as soon as I get through the door, it's exhausting."

"You can't be serious," you whisper, genuinely believing what you said. He couldn't be serious. There was no way in hell he really believed that, but it didn't matter if he believed it or not; it all still hurt the same.

He wishes he could overlook the flames that flare in your eyes, consuming the stars that always seemed to shimmer.

What did he just do?

He sighs, collapsing onto the couch, digging the palms of his hands into his drooping eyes. He was so scared; the fear loosing his lips and everybody knows words of fear are the greatest lies. 

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you know how much work you are? I work all day, work, work, work, work everybody needs me always wanting, always needing something, something, fucking something," he growls, smacking his hands against his thighs, thrown into an unexplainable rage. "And as soon as I get home, you need me too; everybody is so fucking needy." The next words he says feel like an earthquake erupted in your soul, splitting your heart in two. 

"Your so fuckin' needy."

You flutter your eyelashes shut, pushing back emotions that boil in your brain. There are so many feelings fighting for the light, but instead of screaming, crying, or lashing out, you take a deep breath and fold your arms, calmly asking 

"Then why don't you just break up with me then?" There is nothing more terrifying than a woman whose fire rages behind a veil of ice, but when he looks up, watching the flames wrap around your posture, wisping around every edge of your bones, and even with the ashes of the love you once had for him fluttering in the wind, he still opens his big, fat, fucking mouth. 

"Or maybe I should have just never asked you out in the first place." No sooner did he spit the sentence out, did he want to shove it right back in his mouth. Your shoulders droop, eyes filling with an almost impossible amount of pain.

The earth crumbles, the walls of your shared home collapsing around you, rubble lost in all the memories that flicker away like embers floating from the burning configuration that was your relationship. It was ironic how the world worked; it took years to build up the love you felt and only a single sentence to wash it all away. You never thought you would see armageddon, but when those letters left his lips, you quickly realized sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind. 

"Okay," you croak, hot tears streaming down your face; a wobbly smile pulls at your lips almost out of habit, facial muscles forced out of memory. 

You have never once imagined yourself drowning under so many words left unsaid, sinking in the waves of tears you fought back, and as you trudged up the stairs, sinking into your bed, you wondered when you would hear the begrudging footsteps—the hesitant knocks. Wondered when you'd hear his soft apology—a voice racked with guilt—but your fantasy never came.

All you heard was the clicking of the clock behind you, counting down the hours where he disappointed you again and again

You don't know what got to you first—the peirce of realization that he didn't regret the bitter insults that left his lips so easily or when you saw the calendar that peaked from the corner of your closet-

5 days

5 days left unmarked

5 days left blank

5 days until you celebrated your 3 year anniversary

Han Jisung would never know you were counting down the days

Han should have runned after you, and in perspective, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm meal, he has never felt so completely stupid for not, but after you trudged up the stairs with a pained smile and glassy eyes, he was so starkly shocked he had said something so disgustingly distasteful his feet stuck to the ground, and finally, after hours of staring at the pool of time bubbling by his shoes, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

It was as though his terror tainted him, making the glassy parts of his heart dirty, and when he took the edge off, it was like a harsh wipe away at all the murk, revealing his jarring reflection in the pearly mirror.

He was such a jerk

He whimpers, running anxious fingers through his hair. He has no viable excuse, no good reason why he treated you so poorly—for someone so obsessed with time, he should know that you can't get your life back—can't turn the hands of the clock 

Push rewind

Hit replay

For what value would life be if you could just start it all over again? The impossibility made all the precious moments sweeter, but like every good thing, it made memories like these all the more foul.

You didn't deserve that

He didn't deserve you

and as you slink down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He can't stop that booming voice biting at the back of his brain.

How long will it take you before you realize that too?

You flick your gaze to him, burning with loathing cloaked behind layers of indifference. It floors him—those subtle signs of hatred that swim in the back of your eyelids, hidden in small twitches of your features, your almost tangibly cut off, throwing up your walls, shutting him out in more ways than one.

He had always worried about the gardens he was growing; flowers that sprung around him rapidly, fighting to figure out which one to water first, and all while your petals wilted and your roots curled up-

You waited

You watched as he bled himself dry. He shutters, everything bursting before his eyes—the love you once had for him flickering like the last flashes of a dying star. You're a million miles away, dancing on the craters of the moon, fluttering around the twinkling rings of Saturn. He folds himself deeper into the couch, almost hoping it will swallow him whole—pull him into the burning inferno beneath—even hell would be cooler than the fire that was your gaze.  Han Jisung never thought he'd see the day when the galaxy would collapse, but staring at you, flaring your final goodbyes, he realizes that doomsday was closer than he thought. 

"Baby," he whispers, his voice heavy with guilt, how easy it is to start a fire when you don't care about putting it out, but now that the wisps of flame consume you, he wishes he had never given you the kindling. 

You don't look at him as you walk around the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal. He stands up hesitantly, anguish feeling like an iron rod through his chest. He creeps into the kitchen, stepping lightly into the room like it's laced with landmines. 

"Please." His voice cracks—splits right down the middle, a perfect reflection of the cleave that was his soul. "I'm so sorry."

You place the cereal back in the cabinet and open the fridge to retrieve the milk.

The silence is deafening.

The all too familiar-

tick

tick

tick

of time trickling away rings in his ears

How much more of it does he have left?

How much more of this silence can he take?

You ignore him, strolling right past his trembling frame, racked with regret. It pulsates off his in palpable waves. You're so nonchalant so careless. He almost wants you to turn around and smack him, throw that stupid bowl of cereal in his face. Instead, you jog up the stairs, slamming the door behind you.

Is that the only door you shut?

Han had always thought of the apocalypse as an idea only found in novels, tucked away behind the pages of a book, hidden in the comfortable corner of science fiction, because that's all it was, right— fiction? But as your dead eyes scrape his figure up and down, he realizes that Doomsday wasn't really fiction at all. Just like the world wasn't always a place, sometimes the world was a person, and right now his world was ravaged by a deadly disease, an illness that only infected the soul, an illness only transferred through the careless bitter words found in the English language. Fire was nature's greatest purifier, and sure, the walls of the home he lived in weren't warped with flames of your fury, but the home he had made in your heart was 

It's been 3 days

3 days since he's felt the touch of another human. 

3 days since he made the biggest mistake of his lifetime.

3 days since he dropped a devasting bomb on your relationship, and the shrapnel was finally hitting him; curled pieces of cold metal lodged somewhere in between the folds of his soul. 

3 brutal bone-crushing days of pure ear-splitting silence—It was almost scientifically impossible, just how quiet you were. It was an art really, every brush of anguish accurately painted on—every ignored apology, every piercing glare, every single star that flickered out in your eyes. You were strategic, meticulous, you were plain vicious-

and you had every right to be.

You were fully justified in your actions, and yet he felt like he was still teetering over the edge of madness. The thought of losing you like a noose snaking around his neck, choking him in an unadulterated form of terror 

He has been stricken by anxiety his whole life, but the thought of a world without you filled him with an inexplicable amount of fear—the kind that burrows in your bones, decaying in your soul—the kind of terror that your still stuck digging from your skin for centuries to come—the kind of fear that makes you simply

panic.

His hands shake as he pushes the door open, feeling like he's walking into an open war. The pages of a dystopia form walls around him, caging him inside a bombarding capsule of storming English. 

The harsh contrast of the hurricane in his mind and the indifference in your eyes sends him reeling. You were lying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, not sparing him a glance.

You were so beautiful so breathtaking, but for once, he wasn't admiring your beauty.

He was

falling

apart. 

Oh, fuck, he was freaking out. 

He had finally caved under the pressure of always having to perform a false, flimsy smile, wobbling on his lips, pretending to be okay as he watched the life drain out of your eyes; the passion seeping from his songs.

He loved making music, but what is art without chaos?

What is beauty without love?

What is the world without you?

He always had to be perfect; he always had to be put together. He was always running on all cylinders, always hanging on by a fraying straining thread, and finally, it snapped. 

The earth is

t i l t i n g,

flipping around,

turning upside down, and

i n s i d e o u t.

Guilt rips through his chest, yanking out harsh bouts of oxygen from his constricting lungs. 

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't fucking

b

r

e

a

t

h

e

He was going to die-

He was going to collapse into himself, busting into a flaring supernova. 

He was going to be his own demise-

Forming his own doomsday-

He has never thought of himself as an author, but before he could stop his mouth from moving, he was already caged between the sentences of his own personal apocalypse, living a waking nightmare.

He created a story with his stupidity, and now he has to pay the price. 

He was the end of your relationship-

what has he done?

He can't b r e a t h e

"Y-Y/n I can't," he choked on his words, watching the walls wash away like watercolor dripping down the page. 

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He's going to die

He stumbles into the living room, tripping over his feet, his breath staggering in his throat. He catches himself on the arm of the couch, digging his nails into the soft leather, gripping it like it was his tether, keeping him from floating into space—burning up in the atmosphere, his body bouncing around the icy rocks. 

"Fuck," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and clawing at his chest, almost as if he scratches his skin hard enough, he can finally pull out the hourglass that keeps ticking his time away. His heart pounded wildly, almost begging to be free from the confines of his ribcage. The fact that it was still beating was beyond him. 

His heart only beats for you.

His heart will only ever beat for you.

How was he alive when you were drifting away? moon dust dancing in your lungs, would you become a ruler of the skies, while he was still stood still? 

"Han," your voice sounds like cotton candy kisses and honey dribbles. He never thought he would ever be so happy to hear somebody so alarmed, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from shattering. 

You jump up from the couch, your face pulled in concern. 

He doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

He's drowning in a pool of his self-inflicted sorrows. He's sinking, and the only thing that could save him was you. 

How do you save a man who won't take your hand?

"N-No, im okay," he barley pushes the words out, weaving between the thick lump that's forming in his throat. 

It was a lie

Everything was a lie

That's all he was

a liar

"Han," your voice is warm and inviting, sucking him in, wrapping around him like a blanket in the cold, a bowl of soup to a sick stomach. You healed him even when he was the one who created the wound. You pull him in, taking his trembling frame into your arms. Gentle fingers thread through his hair as soft lullabied wispers float through the air.

He feels so safe

So secure-

So loved-

He never thought he would feel the tenderness of your touch again, so when your comforting arms squeeze him right off the edge of destruction, 

He

c o l l a p s e s

crumbling into a million sobbing, sniveling pieces before you, he sinks to the ground, dragging you along with him. 

He always brought you down-

Always took you with him-

He was a disease-

An infection-

He was your armageddon

He sags against your body, limply moving like a rag doll. You let him curl into your chest, holding him like pieces of pierced punctuation. 

You guys were a shattered semicolon inverted and upside down. 

There was so much he wanted to say—so many apologies, so many explanations, so many different synonyms for sorry—but you didn't need them; you never needed them; you needed him, and there was nothing he could ever say that would change that. 

You hum, rubbing soothing circles on his back. You were always the perfect metaphor, a marveling form of pristine poetry. Your touch was like fleeting promises on the skin, the delicate tickle of a blooming flower, the comfortable heat of a burning star. You weren't just his world; you were his universe.

He pulls you closer to him, clinging like a desperate dying animal, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so fucking sorry!" He blubbers the sentences onto your skin, as though the deeper he burrows into your body, the faster they can travel to your heart. 

"Han," you lull, a small smile grazing your face, physically having to claw him off of you. He does begrudgingly, a minuscule whimper tumbling out of his throat from the lack of contact; he doesn't meet your eyes. He can't—not when the clock still ticks your time away, not when he's still not fully sure that you're willing to turn the hands back. 

He's devastated, his eyes red and puffy with tears that cascade down his cheeks, shining in the overhead light. 

"Please don't leave me." He sniffles, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt, bottom lip trembling. "I don't want our time to run out. All my time is running out. Everything is running out. I can't, I-" he stutters, tripping over letters that latch onto his teeth like cactuses digging into his lips. 

You furrow your brows, tilting your head in sympathetic confusion. "What do you mean, baby?"

He screws his eyes shut, his hands shaking almost aggressively on his thighs. Why did he say anything? How does he explain something like that? He tries to form the words on his tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth like glue. Speaking it into the universe makes it so much more real, so much more raw, because now it isn't a metaphor, a fictional little whisper that fucks with his mind. 

The earth quivers in its orbit as he opens his mouth-

Was he really going to admit this?

Was he even ready to admit this?

"It feels like my life is running out," he stammers, the words tasting so sour on his tongue. "My life is so stressful; everybody always needs something from me, and sometimes it feels like I'm dishing out so many slivers of my soul that I don't even have any of it left." He lets out a shaky breath, attempting to get his heart rate somewhere that resembles normal. 

"I'm always up, always working, always doing something, and it's scary to think while I'm wasting my life working so hard doing something I don't really love." He aggressively wipes the tear that drops down his cheek with the palm of his hand. "It's so scary wondering if I'm ever making the right decisions." 

He feels so small under your gaze.

"A-And the other day was so hard," he cries, fresh waves of tears blurring his vision as he reminisces on the events. 

"Everybody was yelling at me, always needing something demanding so fucking much; they were playing puppet, forcing my hands in a way they didn't want to move; everybody was so just so needy-"

"And so was I," you whisper, filled with guilt. It breaks him. Your so understanding, so loving, so forgiving, so perfect. 

How did he even get you?

His heart wrenches as he dives into your arms-

"No, no, no, no," he shouts, shaking his head against your shirt. "No, love, you didn't do anything wrong; it was me. Me and my shitty mood—it was all my fault. I blew up at you. You were trying to be the amazing, loving girlfriend you are, and what I said was solely because of my fear. The exhaustion and anger didn't exactly help either"

"But there are no more buts," he pulls away, catching your eyes burning with sincerity. "There is no excuse for the way I treated you; there is no justification, just explanation."

You smile, tilting your head in adoration. You would be lying if you didn't say you were relieved, because you were.  You thought he believed the words he said—what feels like forever ago—that you were the annoying, needy girlfriend that only ever bugged him, but he didn't believe what he said. No, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to blow—a ball of stressed and nervous energy channeled into the wrong source. 

"It's okay, Hannie, really, we're okay"

He was a supernova—a burning, bursting flame of bright, beautiful colors 

Han had once thought that the stars in your eyes had flickered away, but now he knows even the most enchanting things have to die before they can transform. 

He loves you.

He has loved you for 2 years and 363 days.

He will love you until the world goes up in flames. 

He will love you until the planet bleeds with the wounds of armageddon. 

"Does this mean we can still celebrate our 3-year anniversary?" He asks sheepishly, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes. You perk up, visibly brightening. 

"You remembered!"

"I never forgot." he smiles, eyes shimmering with hope.

"I've been counting down the days," you grin.

"So have I," but he hasn't been counting down the days until you celebrate 3 beautiful years on this planet together. No, he's been counting down the days until his body slips into the grave, but as he presses his ear to your heart, it feels like the steady beats were a swelling symphony orchestrated just for him. He sighs contently, nuzzling deeper into your chest. The terrifying tick of the clock faded away, drowned out by the song of your soul whispering sweet promises into his ear. Sure, the fear still tickled the back of his brain, but instead of worrying that time was trickling away, he pulls you closer because with you, there was never a wasted moment. 

©CookieCreates (posted: July, 9th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately

~cookie🍪

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Spine Chill] TF141*Reader

cw: dark fic, implied stalking, dead dove do not eat

You thought you were used to being stared at. Scrutinizing one when you’re assembling your gun and completing missions. Flirting one when you sit alone in the pub and get hit up by strangers. Admiring one when you sway and shine on the dance floor. But you swear you feel someone’s staring at you, and not in the way you're used to. The gazes as if viewing you as prey. You feel trapped under them, chills crawl along your spine every time you recognize them landing on you for god knows how long. You must look tired and stressed out, so when your captain asks you if something is bothering you, you just let your concern slip out to the person you trust the most. For your safety, and the team’s – Price tells you, that it could be enemies cleared from the old days trying to bite back with their newly grown teeth, so you agree to let other teammates know the situation. Soap’s angry when you spill everything out, with Gaz reassuring you it will be fine, you have your team watching your six, and Ghost planning with you for your security system.

A frog being strangled by a snake isn’t suitable to describe your feelings. You’re a caged mouse dipping in frozen cold water. When you’re not on base, those gazes follow you. Surely the help from your teammates console you a lot, but the panic rises to its peak when you fish out your key and insert it into the lock for your flat’s door, and realize it isn’t locked. You pull out your phone to call Price with your gun in the other hand and slowly open the door to check every room. Nothing’s missing, and everything’s at the same spot, but it only freaks you out. What do they want? intels? your teammates? gears in your mind turning as trying to figure things out, and the screeching sound of the tire catches your attention as you watch your teammates sitting in it. “It’s okay, we got you now.” Resting on Price’s flat with a hot tea warming your nerves, you sigh and nod. So you live in Price’s flat when you’re on leave, going to pubs with Soap when you want a drink, and telling Gaz your thoughts when you start feeling insecure.

The gazes vanish eventually, and your panic appeases with their disappearing. Now you’re nursing the wine alone once again, scrolling on your phone while keeping an eye on your environment. and the ice-cold trepidation clouds your mind when you feel the gazes setting on you after a few months of absence. Shit, you shouldn’t let your guard down, you curse when you tap on your captain’s phone number immediately. The 15 minutes Price promised you feel like an eternity, and you keep sneaking glimpses around, attempting to find any weird shit. Your hands shoot up to catch someone's wrist as the hand approaches you. “It’s just me.” You look at Ghost’s eyes and apologize as he escorts you into the car. That’s the first time you break down after these months, in front of everyone. Tears drip down your cheeks even though you try your best to suppress. You don’t know what you will become without them.

Distancing anyone except your team since the day you cry, your life starts coming back on track. No more unnerving incidents happening to you. You regain your focus on your job, living with Price, hanging out with the sergeants and sometimes even your lieutenant, dancing to the music in the pub as they enjoy their drink in the booth. You almost forget about the predatory gazes annoying you before until Price gathers all of you in his office, and shows you the person he found in what used to be your flat. “Just don’t want to scare you again. You finally have your full attention back to your work, so we deal with it first.” Price taps onto the documents while explaining. “So everything’s safe right now? Is it truly the end?” “Yes." Ghost adds the confirmation You look at the photos and evidence scattering on the desk, and then ease the crinkles on your brows. “Thank you, all of you guys, really.” “That’s what we’re for" Gaz flashes you a grin like he always does.  "No need to worry now, eh?”  Soap pats your shoulder. “Want ta spar with me to forget all this shite?” “Can’t wait to beat your ass, MacTavish.” You smile while dismissing yourself from the room, but when your fingers touch the knob, the chill climbs up your spine and makes you shiver again. Turning around and facing the men with horror in your eyes, your mind whispers a steer to you that you never thought of before.

You only check what’s outside your cage, but never inspect what’s inside it before.

a/n: feel like writing dark fic today :D

ty for reading, have a nice day/night!

[astralnymphh]

caregiver!ellie is sooo cute but wha about caregiver!reader…

i jus wanna play with her hair n tell her how amazing she is…😞

ughh anon ur in luck cuz I always had the perfect scenario for this in mind. a little tired rn but I'll try, so here we go!! SFW, bit angsty if you squint?? moreso sappy. ✰ . . TLOU UNIVERSE

rust of blood, a scent that churns nostrils and sickens guts. that scent, nested in your nose as you led ellie into the bathroom, embossing crimson prints in each step. damn infected, right? cramming their ridgy fungi bodies through painstakingly set traps– little fuckers weaseled upon your property. nothing to fret about, els was there– as usual– to mow them down to the bone. but everytime, would return a person so done with this bullshit, her own bullshit. gushy assumptions that leave her feeling a tad peeved that she couldn't 'do better for you', when all she gave you was betterness, everyday. it's the little things that tick her off. the little things that sparsely matter to you.

"arms up." you asked, so brittle– so fine. fine on the ears roughened– reddened, scars prevail. with her wearied ass sat atop the baths' edge, you felt nothing waned from nurturing. that beaten freckled face, so preciously relying on you to care for her. ellie draws her arms up, stiller then bark when you tuck and pare her soiled shirt off, plaid pattern muddled by a likeness of bloodshed. you dip down, knees bound to a squat, popping her fly open and rolling the denim up and off her legs. els didn't really utter much. she was really tired, bone–tired. so, with the rest of her clothes messily assorted in a pile at your feet, you arise, guiding her with a shoulder tap. "c'mon–" the clear water welcomes her body, fingertips rubescent as they dig into the white tubs' edge, sinking in slowly. a soft grunt flows from her nose, water rippling as her elbows drift to her flank. you sidle upon a stool beside her, soaked rag in hand, it drips. the drops, they find their way onto els' spent skin of tender bruises. there's a certain breed of kindness that one's hands will pamper along the body of a lover, your hands, her body, a doting kindness. you swipe the rag up her scruff, taking gentle time on the groove where jaw and neck weave in flesh. she reciprocates in pleased buzzes, hums to show an unwaver of contentment. raggy bristles tickle her skin, running along the pistil pores, so smoothly– she just has to let you know, "m'not gonna lie, this is nice." and dreary lids flip to creased ones, uplifted by a fat–cheeked beam. a girl could used to this, after starving of its attention, for so long, years and tears hence. she adds with rasp, an irritated rasp, "fucking stupid of me for not checking the perimeters, m'so dumb, i should've–" she scolds herself, and you scold threefold– kindly, "infected, are fuckin' stupid. not you, babe." it baffles you to even hear her words of self–scorn perk on your ears, you affirm further, "you're so smart for even suggesting the traps in the first place, don't even say that." your available hand skids up her back, knurling knuckles in her pappy wet tuft and pressing a strand to your thumb, "never, say that." you repeat nimbly, lacking tone, pitching in breath. the strand you press, it oozes more drops like a squashed orange, pulping to your mold of it. she smiles wider, and wider, till finally– her teeth held in place. null troubles could sweep those cheeks of dimples. then her lips cleave, and that coral tongue begins to wag again, muttering, "fuck, you're so sweet." then, bowing her head in amusement of her words, she muttered softer than prior, "too sweet." a smile she lifts somehow further, bathwater wets her rosy cheeks– a glisten hardly unnoticed in dim candle blaze.

and what is encouraged beyond those words, is your velvet kiss to her wrist, catching and craning it up to meet your mouth. you sow it, palp it, suckle it, and squeak with a pop, surfing straight into your praise of, "but you're my sweet girl.." moseying the rag down the span of her bicep, mellowly.

"shut up.."

(img from fulltimekardashian on pinterest)

[jazzyblusnowflake]

Alright, we've had Nuzi headcanons. We've now had Vuzi headcanons... Let's heart it, you're Violent Biting Biscuits headcanons, N x Uzi x V... Or if you'd rather complete the set, eNVy headcanons. I am curious of both. (Your headcannons are just super cute)

Holy hecc, I'm so sorry for answering these asks so late but i'm gonna be honest- I just never think anyone likes my writings or ever reads them XD

okay then lets see- my ViolentBitingBiscuits headcanons- i will put eNVy for the next ask because someone else asked for it too and they wont all fit here lol.

My NUziV headcanons ovo<3 :

[once again these are only the drone versions, the human versions aren't involved / also i may add some 🔞🔞🔞 ones this time lol >:3 also uhhh apologies in advance but this one is long as all hell so....um]

K we know the drill, they are all together- hopefully in the future- even if any of them dies i'm gonna pretend i do not see 🙄 deadass gonna treat this like the jjba fandom- my faves are ALIVE AND WELL SHUT UP ARAKI-

Okay so there's some things that we have already mentioned in the previous headcanons- ill try to not repeat them unless they are necessary but ill also try to treat this as its own post and lightly repeat them real quick too-

N and V started out fighting over Uzi, and Uzi obviously was mostly into N at first- but after a while i guess Vs advances got to her- especially since she was- in a way- so desperate for attention/affection, so it felt a little overwhelming to her but in a good way. they very obviously flirted with her which got them silently treating it as a challenge- and Uzi being Uzi obviously loved the attention she got out of it- opting to let this just... kinda continue lmao. she didn't expect to let it go far enough for her to end up with both of them but here we are XD

We slightly touched this topic before about V but to reiterate- all of them have different levels of trauma that they all deal with and currently V has gone through the worst of it, both having to endure Cyn's torture in her mindspace and also having to watch N get slaughtered in front of her and possibly even having a hand in it. She fears losing people that mean to her so she became avoidant with a difficult personality to guard whatever's left of her. It took a really long time for her to decide to be with the two and to protect them and not run away from her feelings for anyone or anything. but some days its still difficult for her so sometimes N and Uzi have to literally trap her into a wrestling cuddle pile or something to get her to just... exist, without feeling like the whole universe is weighing her down. N and Uzi want her to know they are there to protect HER from those inner demons too.

sometimes the cuddle piles end up with N and V once again trying to get Uzi's attention lmao which ends up with them being a little too horny on main- whoops :) - everything starts with a little nibble here, a small bite there - maybe some pillow fights and climbing over eachother or holding one another down in different positions- aaaand then they wake up a few hours later with Uzi having regrets cuz these two are horny as f-

ANYWAY- N is probably the most patient of the 3, and although he usually never breaks up fights because he trusts the other two to handle their own problems without him needing to mom them, sometimes Uzi and V go a lil too far and he gets very tired of dealing with this kind of behavior. he never blows up at them- but he usually goes away to take a breather- sometimes hanging out with Thad or the other drones- and during this time Uzi and V kinda feel bad- but then they would think of stuff like maybe planning dates or getting food for him, draw stuff on cards and etc- or go around trying to find gifts to make him happy<3 sometimes they might add some extra kisses and unwinding sessions in the end as an extra treat :p N always forgives them obviously, he just needs some guys night out every once in a while or something lmao-

Getting close to Uzi became an excuse for N and V to get closer to eachother too. ironically, it first started with them bantering about who is better at what- but then it turned into unironically flirting and teasing eachother- but after a while they realized their relationship isn't going to ever be the same as what it was back in their old days but its also something completely new, so they become more willing to accept one another and explore their newer dynamic.

they all love being coddled and pampered every now and then. Uzi and V may not outright admit it- but they really do too. so they take turns with who they put in the middle of receiving affection :p

N and V are VERYYYYYY over protective of Uzi. to the point that they wouldn't even let the doctor [for tech repair obviously] check Uzi or touch her in any way when she had a small virus case lol. Khan had to pay the poor doctor extra for that.... deciding to leave his daughter in her room in a cuddle pile of two murderous demons that have glowing cat eyes every time he comes in the room smh.

V and N really like cuddling Uzi and sticking their hands under her clothes. or sometimes just flat out sleeping or cuddling naked. its less of a sexual thing and more so to do with the fact that the two MD's have higher body temperature and a less efficiant body for cooling- since they have a more compact torso and a lot less oil and coolant fluids going through them [since they need to consume it continuously] and having a bunch of working nanobots and nanites shoved into them to turn into weapons/wings/etc- and Uzi- although having the AS- is still very much less in need of cooling due to still having a more efficient body design for a "exoplanetary worker unit", with a still functioning cooling system inside that doesn't necessarily need extra oil to make it work unless under stressful conditions.... even if she probably does have worms and fleshy tentacles inside her now lmao. But either way Uzi's body is still a lot colder than the others so she's usually shared in the middle and at this point Uzi cant even be embarrassed when they slide their hands under her clothes and grab her wherever smh..... although V also does it as a semi possessive thing so there's that pfft. she was especially handsy after that doctor left XDDD.

Yes Uzi has very much in fact ended up at the medical/tech repair unit multiple times because N and V have sometimes ended up being a bit too much for her to handle- and the doctor [a character yall shall meet later] has absolutely had it. She had to literally sit the 3 down, explain to them their body differences via scans and the damages they may cause Uzi and it was basically the robot version of having "the talk" with your child- and Uzi wanted to die there and then.

Uzi sometimes just tells the two to drink blood from her- the first time they wanted to share oil they were scared about accidentally causing Uzi to overheat- but after a few times of trying it, they continued doing it more frequently either by kissing and regurgitating or taking turns to bite Uzi or vice versa. N and V typically don't use one another's oil because they already have high usage as it is, it wouldn't be efficient. admittedly N and V always have concerns when it came to biting Uzi- but somehow they found out Uzi actually enjoys it a little when they do it and well...they get ideas lmao- they just make sure to lick her indents clean with their regenerative saliva to make the AS work as little as possible on Uzi's body.

N really enjoys seeing his partners smooch..... for study purposes ofc lmao- actually he uses his visor to take pictures sometimes- let the man be a little horny in peace smh. and don't worry Uzi and V know all this- they just wanna tease him a little bit :p

Uzi and N usually chit chat while they are in the bed until they fall asleep- but V prefers to just hug Uzi on the side listening to them while they talk until she falls asleep too

they love going around in human based areas with shops and stuff to find books to read together or any other fun human stuff they can find- maybe table top games? lol- V goes for the sports stuff. she kinda wanna try hitting something with a bat...

[okayyyy so tumblr doesn't let me write any more XD i def have more ideas but oh well. also ill save the eNVy for another ask that i have in my inbox so you'll get that soon too :p]

[urfavoritewriter]

Hardcore Gym Spotter

A commission for a user here on Tumblr who wishes to remain anonymous. Content: Male Pred, Unspecified Prey, Workout, Gym Vore, Open-Ended (Fatal or Endo, up to the reader.) Oral Vore.

Zane leaned back against the soft leather of his couch, one muscular arm draped casually across the back, the other hand gently caressing his round belly. Despite his chiseled pecs, strong biceps, and sculpted legs, his midsection had always been a bit softer, a stark contrast to the hard muscles that surrounded it. Now, however, it was protruding even more than usual, swollen with its latest addition.

A wicked grin stretched across Zane's rugged face as he felt the person inside him squirming around. "Mmm, someone's lively in there. You know, I hope you're not too tired," he murmured, pressing down and feeling a distinct push back against his palm. "Because today is leg day. Lots of squats and lunges in our future."

His fingers drifted across the taut surface of his belly, tracing the subtle outlines of the person trapped within. "Can you feel that?" he whispered, his voice dripping with sultry mischief. "Every flex, every movement. And trust me, after today's workout, you're going to feel every contraction and squeeze."

Zane's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Imagine, with each deep squat, my abs pressing tighter and tighter around you. Every lunge, every step on the stairmaster, the rhythm of my body working to its limit while you're just... nestled snugly inside, feeling it all."

He chuckled, the sound low and enticing. "And after the gym? When I'm all sweaty and spent?" Zane continued, leaning down and pressing a teasing kiss to his own distended abdomen. "I'll hit the showers, and you'll feel the heat, the water cascading over us. Bet you never imagined a spa day quite like this."

Drawing in a deep breath, Zane's belly rose and fell dramatically, causing the captive inside to shift and adjust. "You'll have the best seat in the house," he promised with a sly wink. "Every flex, every drop of sweat, every single burn of my muscles. You'll experience it all... up close and personal."

A low, resonant burp rumbled from Zane's throat, a small testament to his recent indulgence. The sound seemed casual, nonchalant even, but its implications were far from ordinary. He smirked, pressing a hand to his belly which rippled in response. The contained person felt it all — the vibrations from the burp, the warmth of his hand, and the incessant motions as Zane went about his routine.

Zane reached for his clothes, laid out in preparation for his gym session. He pulled on a form-fitting charcoal grey tank top that clung to his pecs and biceps, highlighting their sculpted nature. But as the fabric traveled downward, it stretched taut over his distended stomach, the material slightly translucent, emphasizing its swollen state. Each twitch and undulation of the imprisoned person caused the shirt to ripple, offering tantalizing hints of the drama unfolding beneath.

Zane then grabbed his shorts, dark blue and made of that perfect moisture-wicking fabric ideal for a good workout. As he stepped into them, pulling them up, they hugged his sculpted thighs and calves, accentuating every ripple of muscle. The waistband sat just beneath the bulge of his belly, almost as if presenting it proudly.

With his gym bag slung over one shoulder, Zane headed out, making his way to his preferred workout destination. As he entered the gym, the ambient sounds of clanking weights, muffled music, and the distant hum of treadmills greeted him. Those who noticed him, whether envious or admiring, couldn't help but be drawn to the pronounced curve of his midsection, a stark contrast to his otherwise athletic frame.

Each step Zane took caused a slight jiggle to his belly, a sensual dance of flesh and fabric. He made his way to the free weights section, picking up a set of dumbbells. As he began his bicep curls, the muscles in his arms bulged and contracted rhythmically, veins surfacing with each repetition. The tension in his forearms and the slow, deliberate movements exuded raw power.

Moving on to the squat rack, Zane positioned himself, the barbell resting securely on his upper back. As he descended into each squat, his thighs tensed, showcasing their defined musculature. But the real show was his belly. With each squat, it pressed forward, stretching his tank top further, the confined person feeling the increased pressure with every downward movement.

Positioning himself beneath the squat rack, Zane took a moment to settle, feeling the cool metallic touch of the barbell on the muscular expanse of his upper back. Flexing his hands around the grips, he took a deep, steadying breath, the expanse of his chest heaving. Then, with calculated precision, he pushed upwards, lifting the weight free from its resting pegs.

His first motion was careful, almost delicate, as he adjusted his stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, he directed his gaze forward, allowing a slight arch to his back. And then he began to lower himself, the descent a deliberate ballet of muscle tension and control. As he went down, the captive inside his belly felt a pronounced tightening. This wasn't just the sensation of being pushed and squeezed; this was an intense, all-encompassing pressure.

With the bulge of his belly positioned more prominently between his thighs due to his stance, every descent pressed the trapped person firmly against Zane’s powerful inner thighs. The heat there was more pronounced, and every single muscle contraction resonated through the person within, like waves crashing against a resilient shore.

After completing his reps, Zane took a brief pause, tilting his head back, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He could feel the lively shifting and prodding from his midsection, the protestations of his meal apparent.

"You feel that?" Zane whispered breathlessly, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. "Every time I go down, you're squeezed right there, between muscle and muscle. Tight fit, huh?" The teasing in his voice was palpable, his words dripping with wicked playfulness.

After giving his legs a brief rest, Zane approached the stairmaster. Climbing aboard, he set a moderate pace to start. As he began to ascend the virtual steps, each upward motion created a rhythmic bounce in his belly. The individual inside felt as though they were being lulled and jostled by the movements, a consistent rise and fall, much like the ebb and flow of a tempestuous sea. The relentless motion combined with the already tight confines meant there was no respite from the sensations.

A few minutes into his routine, as Zane felt the burn in his calves and the steady thud of his heart in his chest, he couldn't help but tease his captive companion further.

“Ever been on a roller coaster?” he quipped, smirking as he felt another flurry of movement from within. “This must feel like the wildest ride, huh? Only difference? This ride doesn’t end.” The sly chuckle that followed spoke of a man completely in his element, reveling in the sensations and the wicked game he played.

With sweat forming droplets that ran down the contours of his sculpted chest and neck, Zane decided to challenge himself further. He set his sights on the deadlift platform. The flat, polished surface gleamed under the gym’s overhead lights, and in front of it, a loaded barbell awaited him.

Approaching the platform, Zane bent at the waist, positioning himself. His hands gripped the bar firmly, one in an overhand and the other in an underhand grip. The sheer weight he was attempting, combined with the added mass of his current 'passenger,' made the task all the more daunting. Yet, the spark in his eye was one of sheer determination.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself. With a grunt of exertion, Zane began to lift. As he straightened, the strain evident on his face, his belly shifted. The pressure from inside was immense, the trapped person being compressed between Zane's contracting abs and the weight of the barbell he was lifting.

The ascent was slow, methodical. Every inch Zane raised that bar, his stomach tightened just a bit more around his captive. Once he was fully upright, holding the barbell aloft, he took a moment, basking in the accomplishment.

Feeling the insistent push and prods from within, Zane chuckled, his breath ragged from the exertion. “Hey there,” he panted slightly, “bet you never thought you'd be my personal weighted belt, huh? Gotta admit, you're making these lifts all the more challenging, in the best way." A pause as he set the barbell down with a resounding clang. Wiping his brow, he continued, "You're my ultimate spotter, you know? Making sure I really feel every rep.”

With a sly wink, Zane continued, "Best part? You're the kind of added weight that sticks around." He chuckled, relishing in the casual banter even as he relished the dual strain of workout and digestion. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of hard work, accomplishment, and the intimate, teasing connection between predator and prey.

Post-workout exhaustion settled over Zane, but the adrenaline rush of his intense session still coursed through his veins. In a quiet corner of the gym, away from the primary hustle and bustle, he found a padded bench. He sank down onto it, legs spread wide to accommodate his well-earned muscularity and the notable bulge in his midsection. The weight of his meal settled between his thighs, the form of the person inside him clearly discernible against the tight fabric of his shorts.

Sweat, a testament to the sheer effort of his workout, glistened on Zane's skin. It trickled in rivulets down the contours of his muscles, making his tan skin shine under the fluorescent lights of the gym. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Reaching down, Zane's fingers traced the curve of his belly, rubbing gently, feeling the occasional squirm and press from the one inside. It was a sensation unlike any other, a unique mix of dominance, satisfaction, and a twisted sort of intimacy.

Leaning forward slightly, Zane murmured, his voice a low, teasing rumble, "Honestly, I'm impressed. Didn't think you'd hold on for this long after what I put you through. But don't get too cozy. Just because you survived today doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet." He smirked, relishing in the power dynamics of the moment. "Who's to say I won’t drag you in here again for another round of heavy lifting? One more gym day inside this belly of mine. Hell, you might just become my permanent workout buddy... from the inside."

His chuckle resonated, the vibrations palpable to his captive, the sentiment clear: their fate was entirely in Zane's hands.

[starmosaics]

Natal Sun square Uranus

I have this aspect in my chart and it's one of the most challenging ones I have so here's some things I've piled up from my own experience with this aspect and how its manifested within other people's charts;

Those with a Sun square Uranus aspect often experience a strong need for personal freedom and originality. This aspect gives one a drive to break away from the conventional road and way of living to forge something that is uniquely their own. As a result, conformity can feel uncomfortable and frustrating for these individuals. Most people with this aspect feel very drawn to seek out radical and original experiences, often finding themselves fighting against societal expectations and standards. These folks are not seeking conventionality, they're seeking radical and original experiences.

Because of this they can feel out of place a lot of the time. Their takes and opinions may be very outlandish to others because of their free thinking abilities. They may feel like the odd one out, feel like they stick out like a sore thumb, feel like they do not quite fit in, or feel like an outsider within in their environment. Sun-Uranus folks have a very hard time accepting their differences and the things that make them unique at first. Because of their crave for unorthodox experiences, this can lead to feelings of alienation. This can be particularly challenging when their innovative ideas or unconventional approaches are met with resistance or misunderstanding from others. Their sense of not belonging can become a battle within themselves, which could lead to suppressing their unique traits in an attempt to gain acceptance in worst case scenario. They can also end up pretending to be someone they’re not because of rejection from society/others.

This can make one a rule-breaker, an inventor, risk taker, a contrarian, defiant, a rebellion, scientist, alchemist, villain, etc. These people will refuse to do something if it goes against their beliefs or is unethical to them; they can be incredibly set in their own ways. They tend to do things with a different approach that works for them which tends to piss others off, especially those who like control. Often needing to do things differently than the common person, they may purposely take the harder route and go against the grain. This resistance to approach things in a conventional way can be liberating, but can also lead to conflicts and a lack of compromise with those who take more traditional approaches. People usually have a hard time figuring out those who have this aspect.

Those with a Sun-Uranus aspect thrive on innovation and variety. They are unpredictable and hate being told what to do. Their open-mindedness make them willing to try almost anything as they view most things an experience to learn and expand. Nothing feels normal to these folks. Sun-Uranus people are the types to act first, think later. They're also frequently changing things about themselves internally and externally. If stuck in one place for too long, they tend to feel restricted and restless.

Famous people who possess this aspect include; Doja Cat, Dennis Rodman, Elon Musk, RuPaul, Sky Ferreira, Mitski, Grimes, and Frida Kahlo. These people are known for their unconventional lives, innovative ideas, unique/distinctive styles, and refusal to conform to societal norms.

Some scenarios a Sun-Uranus person might experience:

Not trying at all in school because they know it won't be relevant to their future aspirations.

People having to compromise with them a lot because they tend to want to do things their own way.

Leaving their 9-5 job because they got tired of the same day-to-day tasks.

Facing issues in their personal relationships because of lack of communication.

Doing the opposite of what someone wants them to do because they don't like being ordered around.

Getting up and leaving one day without telling anyone because they felt trapped being in one space.

Deciding to do something last minute, neglecting their responsibilities.

Having issues with their bosses or other authority members.

Challenging rules and those of authority because they might believe certain rules don't apply to them.

Waking up one day and deciding they want to completely change their appearance/ways of living.

Creating a trademark for themselves whether it's through fashion, music, art, etc.

[thatonebipotato]

a somewhat swap au of Scarab and Prismo. i say somewhat because its not just swapping them, i changed a lot of stuff other than just like their jobs. heehoo ok enjoy :]

text descriptions and more information under cut ^^!

Prismo -

his [physical] body is "frozen" in time

a bit more calloused over his years of working, but still considered very chill

he usually talks people down so he doesn't have the fight them

the crystal weapon is around his neck

it shoots out like a flashlight

the auras/souls of his victims get trapped in jars

pupils go starry when he does this

So here, Prismo is a god auditor! He's still very down to earth, but after years of fighting and monitoring and capturing, he's a bit worn down. That being said, he's still generally considered to be everybody's pal! The crystal he uses can't store the people he gets, so he has to carry around the jars. Because of this, he can usually only detain like two people at once, maybe three if he pushes it.

Prismo has some resentment about not being Wishmaster, but not the way that Scarab would! He just thinks he could do a better job, but he respects Wishmaster Scarab and just kinda lets it slide. He and Scarab are actually pretty close, and if he's injured or just very bored he'll go bother the cosmic bug.

Things he can do that aren't mentioned are that he can walk on walls/defy gravity, make duplicates of himself, and teleport. Duplicating himself and teleporting takes a looot of energy out of him, and considering that he is perpetually tired, he really doesn't use those abilities a lot.

Scarab -

this form resembles his physical body, but is still just a projection

he can touch stuff, but can't feel anything and can't be hurt/damaged

he's a bit more relaxed, but is still quite strict/rule oriented

the wings of his mask can open up, but usually don't

he is very big :)

the time room is less of a room and more like a never-ending labyrinth of paths

only the truly determined will obtain a wish

Scarab as the Wishmaster is a lot more relaxed than in canon, but due to his nature he is still a bit strict about rules and such. He will explain how exactly a wish will work to those who reach their goal, and if they choose to ignore that, they don't get a second chance. He usually won't go further into detail about the rules, either. This is where Prismo's slight distaste comes from, because he thinks that if he were in Scarab's place he would be nicer about it. That's about as far as that goes, though.

The main entrance that everyone is allowed through(the labyrinth) is infinite, but there is space around it(like a pocket dimension inside of a pocket dimension). Getting into the outside space will lead to the rest of the Time Room, but only Scarab has access to that. He spends most of his time floating in the abyss of the main area. There is no set path to find him, and he will instead come to whoever enters, if they're determined enough.

Scarab does not let people wander freely through the Time Room, so most of the other cosmic entities tend to avoid him because he isn't very fun. Prismo doesn't, though. Unlike anyone else who may enter, if Prismo simply calls out for Scarab, he will arrive almost immediately. Though Scarab has a 3D form, he is still confined to the Time Room, and does not find joy in watching the universes(he only does it if he's reeeallly bored, or if it's necessary). And since he blocks off the rest of the room to anyone else, he never gets any visitors, only mortals looking for his favor.

He doesn't mind the isolation at all, but he does enjoy the company that Prismo offers him. He doesn't mind being secluded, but he gets lonely sometimes. Prismo has many tales of his adventures being an auditor, and Scarab has begun keeping notes on all of them. He looks forward to Prismo's next visit always.

That's about all I have to say about them and their lore, at least as a base to build off of later, so uhhh here's they're color pallets :]

On the left is just how they both look, and the right is just missing the gradient for Scarab so it's easier to see(they don't look super great, but im just laying out the colors)

[avonne-writes]

How about [SHARE] for clegan ? ❤️

Thank you for the prompt! 😊❤️ I decided to explore this idea of Gale struggling post-war.

On AO3

[ SHARE ] sender, seeing that receiver is cold, wraps their jacket around them.

Bucky whistles an idle tune to himself as he finishes patching up the roof where a late summer storm tore into it. He hopes it was the last one to wash over the land this year - it's starting to feel like his favourite blue skies are playing a joke on him, making him climb up the ladder week after week. But, for now, he’s done. The sweat rolling down the dirt on his arms in tickling lines feels like satisfaction, and the ache in his muscles makes him feel alive. He enjoys the sunshine pinching his cheeks pink and the cooler breeze that combs through his curls. It helps put the war out of a man’s mind.

On most days, anyway.

With a deep, tired sigh, Bucky steps off the ladder and gathers his tools to put them away. As he circles around the house, he can hear the muffled buzz of the radio through the kitchen window, an upbeat song playing. For a moment, it fills him with hope. Perhaps, Gale found it in himself to get out of bed and cook. It wouldn’t be the first time that he turned his day around. Hooked onto that spark that held them all up through war and cold and imprisonment. He knows it's still there on Gale’s bad days too.

It's with this hope swelling in his chest that Bucky rounds the corner, but his steps falter when he spots Gale in an old chair he must have dragged down from the porch to the driveway, where the setting sun still warms the ground. His messy, too-long hair looks golden in the light. There’s a book on his lap, but he’s not reading it. His head is tilted down and turned to the side, as if he's listening to a noise only he hears.

From the way things have been lately, he probably is.

He seems unaware of the world around him. Like a ghost, he’s stuck between realms, but the teeth of his trap are the present and the past. It has been like this since they came home three years ago. Every now and then, Gale forgets that he’s still among the living. He stares into nothing the way he used to stare in those quiet moments of despair when there was nothing to do in the stalag, and when Bucky touches him, he shivers.

Nowadays, Gale can tell when he's going to have a day like this and he doesn’t even get up from their bed. Bucky can’t make him - he's just as stubborn about it as he used to be about taking the left seat in the cockpit. It’s the shame, Bucky figures, because he knows it himself, the shame of being too weak to fight those shadowy memories. The shame of not being whole. He's surprised that Gale is trying to push himself out of it today.

“Finished the roof.” He raises his voice as he approaches.

No reaction, but he expected that. He’s used to filling Gale's silences. Enjoys it, even, unless that silence is born out of pain. He puts his toolbox down on the porch steps and grabs the jacket he draped over the railing when the sun crept high enough in the morning for him to be in his shirtsleeves. For a moment, he lets himself thumb at its soft lining and remembers his white sheepskin, the one Gale hated so much. Nostalgia lingers bittersweet in his mouth. They aren't the same men they were back then, and they never will be. That jacket wouldn’t fit Bucky the way it used to anymore.

He shakes the thought out of his head and crosses the patchy lawn to Gale.

“All my fingers made it this time.” He chuckles, referring to the nasty cut he gave himself with a wrong move a few weeks ago.

Gale is so far gone in his head that he doesn’t seem to have heard Bucky's voice at all. His arms are trembling. Just faintly, but Bucky can tell. He wonders which part of Germany it is this time, which month. The first winter? The march into walls of ice and snow? The run Gale made without him, through cold mud, blood and fear?

It doesn't matter. The war is long gone, and if Gale needs it, Bucky can pile all their warm clothes on him until his body remembers that it's still summer. He has the means to give that to him now.

With his tired, work-roughened hands, he drapes his jacket over Gale’s chest and arms. He makes sure it covers Gale where his skin is bare, where his body might mistake the breeze for a knife. As he pulls back, he lets the back of his right hand caress Gale's scarred cheek and the stubble dusting his jawline.

Gale's sad eyes blink, then turn away from the barren ground to look up at the sky. Blue reflected in blue, and golden light.

When his gaze finds Bucky's face, Gale smiles.

[hufflefluff-stuff]

could you write HL characters reacting to MC passing out due to exhaustion?

Thanks for being the first to request!! :D

Notes: MC has established relationships with the characters (individually). And I only did three bc I had good ideas for these ones specifically

Characters: Ominis, Poppy, Amit

............

Ominis Gaunt

In the days following Sebastian casting Crucio on you in the scriptorium, it left lingering effects on your physical body.

You felt sharp aches and pains in your hands at random, which made your wand movements rather jerky.

You really should've been resting, but you've been receiving lots of owls lately, finding yourself being pulled in several different directions and (mistakenly) deciding that sleep wasn't important right now.

But the exhaustion catches up fast, as Ominis finds you passed out in the Undercroft, immediately panicking and thinking you got attacked.

After you're floo'd to the hospital wing, Madam Blainey looks after you while he tries to explain how he found you without exposing the secret hideaway.

She noted seeing "unusual" red sparks coming from your body, and for a moment his heart drops...and he forces himself to choke back tears upon realizing what's actually going on with you:

You're still feeling the aftereffects of Crucio..and never told him.

Merlin, he wishes you never took the full brunt of the curse. Why did it have to be you?

Somehow he managed to fall asleep, but when you wake up the next day, see your boyfriend, and gently squeeze his hand, he's wide awake too, relieved to no longer detect those sparks.

You claimed to be extremely tired from all the errands you've been running....but when he asks you if "it" still hurts, you realize there's no playing dumb this time.

So you relent and explain the aches and pains, quickly reassuring him they're gone.

Yet nothing you could say in that moment mattered, as it didn't stop him from silently breaking down, laying his head in your lap as tears spilled from his glazed eyes.

This is extremely unlike him, but he can't help it...knowing that the same curse which traumatized him all those years ago was now hurting the one he loved most.

Not to mention you're giving more and more of yourself away to people you hardly knew without considering putting your own well-being first.

He never sees you anymore, and it hurts him.

"Don't you get it? You're killing yourself, MC, and...i-it's killing me, too." He sounds completely shattered. "Is this what it takes for you to finally understand?"

"No, no..you're right. This never should've happened. I'm sorry, love." Frowning in guilt, you pet his hair comfortingly, realizing how much you've neglected him. "You have every right to be angry."

"..I'm not angry. I just...I-I wish we never went down there. I should've stopped Sebastian from-"

"He's not to blame. Don't go yelling at him now." You chuckle softly, before promising him a date to Three Broomsticks as an apology..

Along with you swearing to stop doing favors for strangers.

He calms down after that, still vowing to yell at Sebastian later on.

But he's looking forward to that date.

Poppy Sweeting

You were both venturing through the Forbidden Forest, on a mission to rescue an injured golden unicorn that was supposedly spotted.

Apparently someone noticed it limping around, sporting a deep gash in its leg and leaving a bloody trail.

Poppy figured it narrowly escaped a trap, which was confirmed after you stumbled upon a mechanism tainted in blood.

Time was now of the essence, as some poacher could capture it first, or worse...it could die from its injury.

Despite the sun having set long ago, you insisted on searching even if it took you both all night long.

While Poppy could keep up with you (even tho she worried about the curfew), your energy was nearly spent as you've been out raiding poacher camps and freeing caged beasts all day long, not having returned to the castle once to rest nor eat.

You had plenty of wiggenweld potions, but unfortunately they didn't cure exhaustion.

Obviously you weren't gonna tell your girlfriend that, so you continued tracking down the golden unicorn.

And eventually you discovered it peacefully grazing in a foggy meadow, with Poppy gazing in awe.

"How majestic!" She whispers excitedly. "Now to catch it...we can try Leviosa, but it might panic. Glacius could work, too...though it seems cruel to freeze a unicorn. Hmm, what do you think......MC??"

She turns to you and sees you on the ground, not moving.

At first she freaks out, until she realized you still have a pulse, but she knew you had to get back to the castle ASAP. The forest was no place for a nap!

Fortunately, Highwing was in your nab-sack, so you both got back there in one piece, where you recuperated in the hospital wing.

Madam Blainey noted sleep deprivation, and while Poppy's upset that you didn't listen to her, she can't be entirely angry with you.

She knows you've been stretching yourself thin, saving all these beasts on top of your other escapades.

That being said, she literally had to push you back into bed so you didn't bolt out of it after remembering what happened before you passed out.

"But the golden unicorn..!" You panic. "He was right there! Now we'll never find out where-!"

"It's okay, MC! I saved him. He's safe and sound in the vivarium." She hastily reassures you, showing you a few strands of golden unicorn hair as proof. "We'll go once you feel better."

You calm down after seeing the strands, before you smile and embrace her tightly. "I'm so lucky to have you, Poppy."

"I am, too,love...I'm glad you value the health and well-being of beasts, but that shouldn't take priority over your own. We can't help them if we don't help ourselves first."

"..you're right, I'm sorry. I'll try to remember that."

Amit Thakkar

All of your escapades inside and outside the castle had you drained and exhausted. You wish you had more time for yourself nowadays.

But people needed you: friends, students from your house, professors, townsfolks, goblinkind....you couldn't just ignore their requests for help.

Who else but you had such bravery and ancient magic skills? Nobody. It had to be you.

You've kept your missions secret from your boyfriend, claiming you're only out all the time to look for astronomy tables...which is partially true.

After what happened in the goblin mine, Amit was left shaken for a few days, and you felt guilty for practically dragging him into that mess just because you needed him to translate some things.

So when he sent you an owl asking you to come by an astronomy table located in a field of grass without explanation, you abandoned your current mission and headed there straight away, anxious about what he wanted to discuss.

As it turns out, he knew you were doing more than just observing constellations...but he wasn't mad at you for keeping secrets.

Rather, he knew you needed a break and invited you out here to get away from everything.

He had a blanket that you two laid on together, watching the stars; not for any assignment in particular, but just because the sky was especially clearer and pretty tonight and he didn't want you to miss that.

"I like coming here when I feel like there's too much weighing down on me all at once. My studies, my responsibilities...they can get overwhelming." He sighs, turning to you. "I'm certain you feel the same way, my dear."

"Amit, this is lovely..and...I appreciate it more than you know. But Lodgok needs me to-"

"He can wait." His voice is firm, unusual for the typically calm and passionate Ravenclaw. But his gestures are the opposite as he wraps his arm around you. "Let's stay here a while, MC..and just...forget about the world. At least for tonight. I guarantee you will feel much better...and you'll shine twice as bright tomorrow."

You agree to stay, but only because you're weak to his sappy and poetic remarks.

And you close your eyes, listening to his soft ramblings of the moon's current phase and what it all meant.

While his fascination with the cosmos keeps him wide awake for some time, he sees you passed out on the blanket minutes later and smiles lightly, relieved that he helped you find some peace.

You promised to protect him down in the mines...now it's his turn to protect you as you slept, ensuring no person nor beast bothers you.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 122

Part 1 Part 121

 It’s too early in the morning for the trailer to be this hot. Or maybe it’s just the hot air Steve’s been blowing at Eddie’s head for the past twenty minutes. He’d woken him up hours before they needed to be at the school and bustled him into the bathroom. He’d been trapped there ever since, letting himself be slathered and scrunched, and primped.

Steve’s got that furrow between his brows that he gets when he’s really concentrating. Apparently doing Eddie’s hair takes the same mental bandwidth as a cram session with Barb.

Eddie squirms as his t-shirts sticks uncomfortably to his sweaty back, but all Steve does is clamp his big hand on Eddie shoulder and press him more firmly onto the closed lid of the toilet. He sighs, and lets his hair be manipulated.

The things he does for love.

Steve finishes his machinations, and Eddie stands, calves stiff from sitting on the low toilet seat for so long, to finally get a look at all of Steve’s hard work.

Eddie’s curls are shiny, almost glistening in the dim light of the trailer’s bathroom. Each curl is perfectly spiraled, and when he raises his hand to check its springiness, he finds it soft. He looks like one of those girls from shampoo commercials. He looks like a cheerleader set for competition. He looks like—

“I look like one of those fancy fucking dogs!” Eddie whines, clutching the edge of the counter, and bowing his head in the pose of defeated men everywhere. “You know, the ones with the poofs?” he continues, raising one of his hands above his head, demonstrating the usual shape said dogs are groomed into.

“You mean a poodle? Do you even know what a poodle is?” Steve demands. Eddie bites back a smile. He can picture Steve standing, hands on his hips as he glares at Eddie’s back. He doesn’t open his eyes to check, too committed to his tortured artist pose.

Steve sighs. Eddie hears him step up behind him, feels the warmth of his chest against his own back, the whorls of his fingers against Eddie’s chin as he raises his head and meets his gaze in the mirror.

“You don’t look like a…” Steve starts, sounding entirely exasperated, but he’s looking at Eddie’s curls now, mouth puckered up, like he’d just drank a glass of lemonade and found it tart.

It’s way too fucking hot for all of this.

Steve’s fingers come up to scratch at his scalp, run through his hair. Eddie’s closes his eyes against the feeling. He leans back on instinct until his head’s resting on Steve’s shoulders. Steve huffs, dropping one hand to keep him up while the other continues on with whatever the hell he’s doing now.

“Better?” he asks, all annoyance gone from his tone now until all that’s left is the quiet intimacy of being squished into such a small bathroom.

Eddie opens his tired eyes to look at his reflection. His hair still looks soft and shiny, but Steve’s fingers had loosened the curls, added a little bit of his usual frizz to the mix. Eddie smiles at him in the mirror, clicks his tongue.

“There she is,” Eddie says, cupping the ends of his hair and fluffing them up until Steve slaps his hand away. Eddie leans forward and smacks a kiss to against the mirror, slipping himself a little tongue until Steve makes a disgusted noise and pulls him back.

Eddie lets himself be spun around to face Steve’s unimpressed gaze. He tries to lean in and sneak a kiss, but Steve’s arms are locked on his shoulders, and he’s not budging. “Brush your teeth,” he says, but he trails his fingers down Eddie’s bare arms until he reaches his hands. He takes both of them into his own and brings them to his lips, kissing the palms of one, then the other, before turning around and leaving Eddie there, breathless and alone.

He brushes his teeth.

When he follows Steve into the bedroom, he plants one on him, makes it messy and wanting. They both get so distracted, that Wayne’s hollering for them to hurry up by the time they’re sliding their robes on.

 They rush out of the bedroom, hands linked. Wayne’s waiting, front door propped open to emphasize the hurry. Still, when he catches sight of them all gussied up, he stops and stares for a long moment.

Eddie knows what’s coming before the sheen in his eyes even start. He knows his uncle. But when the first tear slips down his cheek, Steve sucks in a breath and steps back, stopped only by grip Eddie still has on his hand.

But Eddie knows his uncle, knows how he ticks, knows what he needs. So, he drags Steve forward and steps into his Uncle’s chest. Wayne takes it from there, wrapping them both up in his arms and squeezing tight enough to ache. Eddie feels Steve shudder against him, realizes why when it’s Eddie’s turn for Wayne to kiss his forehead and pat his back.

“Ya both did so good,” he says gruffly.

Eddie sniffs, feeling a little wobbly himself. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

When they finally leave the trailer, Eddie knows his eyes are just as red-rimmed as Wayne’s. Steve’s are dry, but his cheeks are flushed from either the heat of their little huddle, or from the embarrassment, and his hands shaking in Eddie’s.

He doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand, so he follows Steve to the back of Wayne’s truck and slides into the backseat with him like they’re two kids being chaperoned to their first school-sanctioned prom.

The auditorium is already bustling with parents and loved ones finding their seats by the time they get there. Eddie looks at all his classmates, all dressed in their Sunday best and sweating in their robes. They’re loitering near the folding chairs, waiting for directions.

Eddie raises his hair from his neck trying to feel any of the building’s air conditioning on his sweaty neck without messing up his hair. It doesn’t work, so he lets it flop back down with a sigh.

Steve’s not looking at their follow graduates. He’s squinting into the bustling crowd of loved ones like he’s looking for someone, mouth twisted into a grimace.

Eddie looks right along with him, but there’s too many people and they’re moving around too much to find anyone. “Do you think your parents will come?”

“They probably don’t even know it’s my senior year,” he replies, so quiet that it’s barely audible over the excited voices surrounding them. “And I didn’t call them.” Steve scoffs, but he’s still looking. “They wouldn’t come even if I did.”

Eddie’s overcome with the sudden urge to wring the Harrington’s stupid necks. He opens his mouth, no idea what’s going to come out of it, but Principal Higgins voice booms through the room, calling them to attention, and sending the students scattering to their seats.

He reaches out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. Steve smiles at him, reaches up to squeeze his hand, and then shakes him off to find his assigned seat.

Eddie ends up almost perfectly in the middle, Carol almost directly behind him, with Jeff another row back and slightly to his right. Steve’s three rows up, and his row’s fraught with enough tension that Eddie barely manages to stay in his seat. Arranging this thing alphabetically was a mistake because it leaves the lineup with Hagan, a kid Eddie swears he’s never seen, Hargrove, then Steve right beside him.

Clearly enjoying the lack of buffers, Hargrove leans over to whisper something in Steve’s ear. It’s loud enough that Hagan could clearly hear it if his braying laugh ringing through the room is anything to go by.

For his part. Steve just keeps facing forward, listing to name after name be called. He claps dutifully for each name. Eddie doesn’t bother. He doesn’t know half these people, and the half he does are best left in the past.

Eddie resists the urge to boo when Hagan’s name is called, but he needn’t have bothered. Carol’s booing loud enough for the both of them. Hagan’s face turns red alarmingly quickly to the scattered laughter of his peers. He stomps off the stage and back to his seat, glaring past Eddie’s shoulder to where Carol’s seated.

Without looking away from the stage, Eddie holds his hand behind his back, smiling as Carol’s palm slaps loudly against his own just as Hargrove’s own name is called. Eddie thinks he might be in love. He’s in the middle of a half-formed plot to steal her from Barb when Steve’s name is called.

The cheering is so loud that Steve startles on the stage, jerking in his grab for his diploma. He turns to gape into the crowd, hand still outstretched toward his diploma. Eddie picks out Dustin’s dulcet tone, Waynes gruff yell, barely audible past Carol’s loud cheering in his ear. He doesn’t turn to seek out familiar faces, too transfixed by the heartbreaking shock on Steve’s face.

Eddie’s palms sting, he’s clapping so hard. When Higgins gives up on waiting for Steve to take his diploma, he thrusts it into Steve’s hands, and gives him a push to the back. Eddie wolf-whistles, and watches as his ears tinge pink.

He’s at the edge of his own chair now, primed to jump up even though there’s four more letters of names to get through before they get to the M’s. It’s just hitting him again, that he’s here, with all these people.

Some part of him had never thought he’d make it here, but here he is, with all his favorite people in this room, watching his back or graduating with him. They’ve done it.

He’s done it.

When it’s his own turn, he finally gets a look at the crowd. Everyone he loves is up there, screaming just as loud for him as they had for Steve. The kids are all standing, Dustin, Lucas, and Will shouting, while Mike and Max clap their surly support. Even Supergirl is there with a baseball cap on, smiling down as she claps along like she’s never done it before.

Mama Byers is smiling down at him, the chief of police at her side, and he’s clapping for him. Eddie Munson, former drug dealer. Jonthan’s clapping too, hell even Nancy is clapping.

Gareth and Doug are squished in next to her, looking bedraggled and ill-fitting in the group, but they’re clapping all the same, sandwiched into he fold by Uncle Wayne’s sturdy form.

“Mr. Munson,” Higgins sighs, beckoning him forward impatiently, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s stalled out halfway across the stage.

He whoops, rushing the remaining distance between them, and almost rips the diploma out of the principal’s hands. He forgoes the stairs completely, saving time by jumping off the stage completely, boots hitting the shitty cement with a bang.

When he looks back into the crowd, Wayne’s got his head cradled in his hands, but Steve’s smiling over at him, clearly charmed, so it’s hard to feel any regret.

The cheers are even louder for Carol, and there’s a strong showing for Jeff, too. Gareth especially makes his own squeaking voice loud enough to echo off the vaulted ceiling.

Sooner than expected, they’re at the Z’s. Eddie’s bouncing his toes, unable to contain his glee. He’s the first to throw his cap into the air, but everyone else follows his lead.

Eddie Munson, as always, is ahead of the curve.

As the caps rain down around him, he beams around the room full of people he doesn’t give a shit about, picking out the few he does.

They all converge. Carol, first, who steps over the seats separating them in a move that sends multiple chairs clattering to the floor. She leaps upon him, wrapping her arms around his waist and shaking him around. Jeff’s next. He pats both their backs until Carol latches onto him as well, pulling him in.

Steve’s last. Eddie watches him approach. He’s smiling, almost helplessly at all three of them, and when he finally reaches them, he tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, wraps his hands around each of their backs, and holds onto each of them for all he’s worth.

Eddie clings right back.

They ring in this new period of their life together, a quartet in a sea of meaningless people, holding onto each other in a way only the best of friends can. It’s too hot to be cuddled up like this, but no one moves to pull away.

Class of eighty fucking five, dwindled down to the only four that matter.

Part 123

[awriternamedart]

a collection of my middle aged man yaoi sampard headcanons -

Sampo has poliosis, a condition that can cause premature greying in areas on the scalp.

Gepard has lots of facial and body hair but it grows slowly because of their cold enviroment. His beard is a stopwatch for how long hes been on the frontlines that time around as he only gets to shave when hes at his home/stationed in the city.

Sampo has a few beauty marks n moles ! mostly on his back and shoulders.

Gepard has freckles! All the Landaus do!

Once Gepard scared the ever living shit out of Sampo because the Landaus have reflective eyes. So Sampo just saw two blue dots in his bedroom once and nearly fell out the window he climbed in through.

Gepard has piercings! Two simple lobe piercings, he only wears them when hes on break. (so like, never.) Serval pierced them for him when they were teenagers so its a little botched but he does his best to take care of them because their a fond memory of his sister. (He also owns a pair of studs for each of his sisters - a snowflake set for Lynx, and a music note set for Serval. Otherwise, simple black studs.)

Sampo has sideburns!! He tends to keep them trimmed well , since his appearence is a huge part of the show. Hes incredibly meticulous down to the last detail in order to sell it, and can spend up to two hours every morning making sure hes ready for the stage .

Gepard is an amputee. I need to update my arm lore doc but basic gist - his gauntlet is a prosthetic used to trap Fragmentum in his arm nub and uses that Fragmentum as a powersource for the Geomarrow to bounce off of and create the ice and mist he uses in battle. He still deals with phantom pain but most of the time it is soothed with his prosthetic - though it can still flare up horribly when overused.

Sampos really weak to being kissed on the nape of his neck, right where his hair is. Hes not quite sure why.

Gepards easy to blush but inCREDIBLY hard to fluster. Hes so used to keeping himself in check and in control that to catch him in any form of stupor is rare.

Related - Gepard struggles immensely when hes out of control of a situation and someone he is unfamiliar with or doesnt trust holds power over it. Hes so used to being in charge and being looked to and only having those he trusts as peers or over him in the power system that being thrown into that situation crawls under his skin in a /neg way. Physical vulnerabilty is also not easy and very stressful.

Quite the opposite for Sampo - emotional vulnerabilty ties this guy in KNOTS. Hes pretty open to touch (once your on his trust list and ONLY if your on the trust list) but youll have to drag him kicking and screaming if you want a glimpse at his actual thoughts.

also Sampo has a wheezy hyena laugh.

Gepard only has only one or two potted plants he tried to use as motivation to go home more often- it was a suggestion from Pela. But uh, yeah it didnt work. Hes a great cook though!

On the other hand- do not let Sampo within 5 meters of a kitchen. For your sake and his. (hes not that bad and can make enough to get by- but it really .. does not taste great ...)

Sampos not entirely sure how old he is, but Natasha figured he was somewhere in his late twenties early thirties when he arrived on Jarilo and hes kinda been rolling with that ever since.

Gepard overheats really easily when he gets off planet eventually. Like it is bad how easily he gets heatstroke.

Sampo uses his blades to pick at his teeth sometimes. Both Natasha and Gepard hate this .

Gepard has a nasty resting bitch face. Hes learned to be able to nullify it a little bit but when hes tired it drops back to usual and makes it look likes constantly about to murder someone.

On the plus side, this control over his expression means he plays a nasty game of poker! (or whatever the Jarilo 6 counterpart of poker is)

Sampo has on more then one occassion forgot that he has the ability to neutralize most of Belobogs cold and has wandered outside without his jacket. Many people looked at him like he was insane.

Gepard always cuts the sleeve right above his gauntlet implant and sews a new hem to keep it from getting caught in machinery.

Hook called Sampo Gramps once. He never recovered.

Gepards hair is slowly turning brown instead of greying! Sampo is infact, salty about this.

Gepard has three majorly noticable scars. He has frostburn on his flesh hand that wind up his arm, he has Fragmentum cracks that wind up his opposite shoulder (amputated arm)(inactive so it looks like scar tissue or a lightning scar rather then black or gold) , and an impact scar/explosion scar across his lower back. Other minor scars are shrapnel cuts and his knuckles being scarred from being a fistfighter. Also his nose is slightly crooked.

Sampo has done a damn good job at making sure he looks the part of the shifty businessman but he has a few marks of his own. Being an Emanator means he heals quickly- and can mask any scars and injuries he gets with relative ease - but he prefers to not rely on this aspect. His biggest scar is an ugly blade cut into his right shoulderblade, and its only so prominant because it struggled to heal properly.

Sampo is shorter the Natasha! Natasha is just tall !! She is shorter then Gepard who is the tallest among the Belobog cast but shes second.

In order of tallest to shortest of Belobog adults its - Gepard, Natasha, Sampo, Serval, Luka, Bronya, Seele. Sorry Seele.

The Landau eye color and color crest is so recognizable in Belobog that that shade of blue is called Landau Blue.

When Sampo has a difficult time sleeping, he wordlessly buries his face into Gepards neck, who simply begins to hum if hes also awake.

Gepard is a light sleeper- he wakes up very easily. Sampo is not. Gepard has had to fight an extremely sleepy Sampo to get up in the morning more times then he can count.

Gepard actually does have a good singing voice, its just that he has poor discipline and tries to match Servals octave. Which is. Way to high. He also has good rhythm!

This does not mean he is a good dancer.

He can get through on dancing, it being part of his upbringing and studies growing up, but he can only do what steps he knows. Any improv and he falters.

Sampo has in fact trust falled on Gepard multiple times. Once at Bronya and Seeles wedding. He basically forced Gepard to dip him.

Gepard is actually incredibly sassy. Its just that hes awful at inflection and everything comes across as matter-of-fact or dry as fuck. That, and he only dares to sass Serval most of the time- theres not many other people hes comfortable enough with to let loose that much.

When it comes to fishing out back alley deals, few are more knowledgable than Sampo. Even before the Trailblazers, Sampo and Gepard had an under the table deal where if Gepard was unable to crack a case alone, he could get information off Sampo in exchange for supplies and shield. He was not happy about this deal but he deemed it a necessity- for the sake of Belobogs safety.

Sampo would and still does anonymously tip the Guards off on major crimes that could severely impact Belobogs already fragile economy. Hes no saint , but he has his personal morals and he sticks to them.

Gepard had many sharp teef , lil fangies even ! but theyve been worn down over time.

Sampo also has lil sharp teef ! his are more snake fang like tho, thinner.