#like this means someone could love you better

[quarterlifekitty]

Hello can we have more sad pathetic ex könig please 🙏🏾

He’s on his hands and knees, liebe. Please.

Let’s think about why you broke up with him, yes?

I think that once he gets close to you, he’s clingy. He’s not used to being close to someone in this way. And it can make him…. A little volatile at times, emotionally.

What I mean is that he straight up cries sometimes when you pull away to get some space. It’s not a manipulation tactic or anything, he just loves to be near you and it shocks his system whenever you want to be on your own, in any small way. And it just gets to be too much for you to deal with, maybe he snaps a little about it— accuses you of not really loving him, if you’re going to withhold affection like that. And you don’t appreciate that at all.

He didn’t think his little outburst through, of course. It was an impulsive thing. He regrets it almost immediately, and even more when you storm out on him. If he felt deprived before, he’s fucking destitute now.

König isn’t a boastful sort of man, but he does have his own pride, much as he seems to forget it when you’re around. So there is a period when you don’t hear from him— he’s a fucking colonel in a private military, he’s not going to beg just because some girl is giving him the cold shoulder.

Until he is. Because he forgot how cold the world seems without you next to him. He lasts a few weeks, maybe a month or two if he’s kept busy with work before the parting is unbearable to him.

It starts quite sensibly. He calls, apologizes (which is agonizing, he fucking hates calling people), and asks if you’ll give him another chance.

You’ll tell him you’ll think about it, but your tone seems to indicate that you’re not so keen on the idea.

He manages a few days of waiting before the gifts start. The man is desperate, liebe, bitte— if you’d only give him a chance, he could be so good to you. So much better. He knows what he did wrong! Doesn’t that time you two shared mean anything? Just let him prove it, let him prove what a good boy he can be—

They start tame. Flowers, teddy bears, German chocolate. Then they get a little more extravagant. Awkwardly so. Starting at 14 karat and only increasing.

[ramblin-tiger]

Ok so I wanted to write this like, almost a week ago, and it's because my little joke has had a lot of reblogs/likes (for me lol), I'm just bad about writing stuff sometimes lol.

So!

To me, writing is one of the few things In the realm of art that I've been able to keep up with over the years. And i feel like there's a few reasons for that.

First: and probably the most important one to me, is that I can read something that someone has written and even when I can clearly tell they are much better and in many cases writing at levels I wish I could im never discouraged. Like, when it comes to physical media art like drawing etc, I get so easily discouraged. It's why I stopped years ago. But writing? I never get that feeling. Yeah I recognize that I'm not as good as that person, but I also feel like my own stories and ideas are just as good in their own way.

Second: I'm sure those who deal in the realm of drawing and other arts also feel this way, but when I read someone else's writing or see someone's art sometimes I just want to add onto it or write my own version with the original being a prompt of sorts. You can see this easily in a lot of my stories where it's prefaced by one of @writing-prompt-s prompts, or an image a mutual or someone i follow posts.

Third: I'm almost always feel accomplished no matter what I've written. I like to go back and read them on occasion to~ (been meaning to make a side blog specifically as an archive to find them easier lol)

But yeah! As much as I love to joke about (even if it's true!) The way we do and don't write things and why, it's great that there's at least one thing that I can say I've never been discouraged about doing and still enjoy~

Now to watch sonic3 and then write something later tonight... or.. well... eventually XD

me as a writer

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Tim Drake probably got into fights at school, but he didn't start the fights, he'd finish them. He'd also get away scott free.

People think that they can ruin the Drake's name with their kid getting into fights and causing problems, but no. They encourage him to do these.

Janet had a firm stance in her belief to have the upper hand, so he'd never get in trouble, because she'd blackmail and/or grill into the principal so hard they had to let him go and give the other kid(s) punishment.

Jack had one solid rule, don't start a fight, finish it, and always win. He enforced it by having occasional spars with Tim whenever he could and signed Tim up for all kinds of martial arts to make sure he knew how to fight.

Janet signed him up for whatever else extracurriculars he wanted(ballet, gymnastics, theater, art, vocal coaching, instruments, figure skating, track, etc.).

So just imagine, Tim Drake, publicly known to get into and win so many fights but with no prior context is seen as a trouble maker till they see how well behaved he is. They talk badly about him though, how much of a bad kid little Tim Drake who physically looks like his father but has the face and acts exactly like Janet when he speaks and leads.

And then his parents die and he doesn't cry. They think he's an even horrible kid for not caring about his parents' death even though he's torn.

And then he becomes a Wayne and his reputation, which only Alfred and Bruce know, brings the Wayne name down.

And then he becomes CEO of Wayne Enterprises and everyone expects him to be just like Bruce. What they don't expect is Janet Drake 2.0 when it comes to getting his way and the way he acts or Jack Drake 2.0 with his outstanding leadership and ideas and proposals and what not.

When the rest of the Waynes find out about his reputation, they don't believe it till they see it for themselves.

It's probably at a gala or some sorts. A socialite is being inherently racist towards Damian and talking about how bad of a kid he is. Tim is not standing for it.

"Oh I'm sorry!" he says just a but too loudly to get the attention if everyone in the place, "Would you care to finish that vile comment about my brother? That he was a what now."

"I do, in fact. Perhaps after everyone hears this you Waynes will do better to control that little devil and his unnatural brow-"

The socialite doesn't even get to finish his sentence when Tim karate chops their neck, making them choke(literally) in their own words.

"Oh what was that? Did someone who is actively cheating on their own wife with the underage heir of another company be racist towards my underage and tri-racial brother? Sorry? Did a pedophile defiling the 15 year old daughter of the Miller's family say my 11 year old brother's skin was the sign of the devil? Hm?"

No one says a word, even as they watch Tim twist his words and spill out every secret and dirty fact about the socialite.

They don't even stop him as they watch him beat the crap out of the person with out even trying when said person tries to throw hands with Timothey Jackson Drake, publicly known for getting into fights and winning as well as being graduated from every martial arts class in Gotham ever.

Police were involved, headlines were made, the Miller heir was no longer seen in public and her younger sibling was pronounced heir, and Tim Drake, not Wayne, got off without a scratch, repercussion, or warning.

Damian has never felt an older siblings' loving protection more than he did when he saw Tim grill that socialite. He s never felt more respect for the guy before. And suddenly Dick was lower on the sibling scale.

He was lower on the sibling scale for everyone. Good by #1 sibling Dick Grayson and hello Tim Drake.

Have a problem? Someone's mean or is picking a fight? Don't worry, Tim Drake's there.

Drake is more noticeable than Wayne when it comes to Tim, and everyone finds it out the hard way.

[mmso-notlikethat]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3400 Ι Christmas fic Ι cw: unintentional self-harm

I might have some kind of fixation with writing them drunk but well... I love seeing them messy and pathetic sue me 😞

also on ao3

"Bar fights on Christmas Eve. Why is this a thing?" Hen muttered.

Eddie adjusted his gloves, surveying the scene. "Maybe Santa didn’t bring what they wanted."

Chimney chuckled. "Or someone sang ‘Last Christmas’ one too many times."

Buck stayed quiet, his mind already churning with a mix of irritation and exhaustion. As they approached, a police officer waved them over.

"This one’s yours... I think," the officer said, jerking his thumb toward someone sitting on the curb. Buck’s stomach sank as soon as he recognized the messy mop of dark hair.

"Tommy?" Buck’s voice came out in disbelief.

Hen tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Oh no.”

Tommy looked up, his face marked with a bruise along his cheekbone and a faint cut near his eyebrow. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp as if someone had spilled a drink on him. Despite all of this, he grinned widely. "Heyyyyy! Look who’s here! Evan! No Buck!! My favorite ex!"

Chimney blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. "Okay, Christmas just got interesting."

Buck groaned, already dreading whatever explanation was coming. "What happened?"

Tommy tried moving, the cuffs clinking as he gestured grandly. "Do you know how great you are, Evan? You’re like—like Santa, but with better arms!"

"Okay, he’s drunk," Eddie said, trying—and failing—to hide his amusement.

Hen smirked. "No kidding, detective."

The officer sighed. "Bar fight broke out. He didn’t throw any punches, but he got hit, refused medical attention, and wouldn’t leave when we asked. Kept insisting he was fine."

"I am fine," Tommy slurred, his voice betraying just how much he wasn’t. "They didn’t mean it. They were just… passionate about pool tables."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "They punched you in the face."

"And the ribs," Tommy added cheerfully. "But I didn’t hit back! Isn’t that the Christmas spirit?"

Chimney snorted, already enjoying this far more than he should. "You got sucker-punched, and your takeaway is holiday cheer?"

"Forgiveness is key, Howie," Tommy declared dramatically. He leaned back slightly, his cuffs clinking. "I’m basically a saint."

Hen crouched in front of him, tilting her head. "How much did you drink?"

Tommy squinted, holding up his fingers. "Two? Maybe four? Could be six. Math’s hard."

The officer crossed his arms, visibly irritated. "He was trying to mediate, but when things got heated, one of the guys turned on him. Said something about him 'looking smug'—whatever that means."

Tommy perked up. "I do look smug! It’s my default face."

"Congratulations," Buck muttered. "You got punched for your great personality."

Hen smirked. "To be fair, it’s a punchable face."

"Thanks, Hen. Love you too," Tommy shot back, swaying slightly. "But seriously, I didn’t even fight back. I just told them to calm down, and, bam, fist to the face. It was… educational."

Eddie crossed his arms. "You learned nothing."

"I learned not to stand too close to drunk strangers holding beer bottles," Tommy said wisely.

The officer announced. "Look, if you can take him off our hands, I’m willing to let him go. Just… keep him out of trouble."

Tommy perked up. "See? I’m very cooperative. Just ask—what’s your name again? Officer Friendly?"

Buck said shocked and unbelieving “Let him go? You said he didn’t even hit back! Why is he even cuffed?? Why didn’t you just let him leave?”

The officer shrugged. "He was being stubborn. Kept saying he was fine, didn’t need help, and that he was 'the spirit of Christmas.' You try reasoning with that."

Tommy nodded proudly. "I am the spirit of Christmas. Forgiveness, love, and mild head injuries."

Chimney shook his head, grinning. "Oh, this is gold. Someone should write this down."

Eddie crouched beside Tommy, examining his bruised face. "Doesn’t look like it’s broken, but you’ll need an ice pack.”

The officer muttered something under his breath while uncuffing him, and Eddie stood up to help Tommy stand.

"You’re lucky they didn’t haul you in," Eddie said, steadying him. "But seriously, you okay?"

Tommy waved a hand, swaying slightly. "Never better. Just a little… dented."

"Dented," Buck repeated, his jaw tightening as he noticed the way Tommy flinched when Eddie accidentally brushed his side. "We’re checking those ribs now.”

Tommy looked at him with an exaggerated pout. "Evan, you’re still bossy. I missed that."

Buck rolled his eyes, biting back the mix of worry and frustration bubbling inside him. "Let’s go."

Tommy suddenly leaned toward Buck, sniffing dramatically. "You smell good. Like cookies. Did you bake? You totally baked."

"Sit down, Tommy," Buck said, guiding him toward the ambulance. "And stop sniffing me."

"Can we keep him like this?" Hen asked. "He’s much more entertaining."

"Yeah, it’s like finding a unicorn," Eddie added. "Drunk, unfiltered Tommy. Never thought I’d see the day."

Once Tommy was helped into the ambulance, Buck followed close behind, his jaw tight with concern. Tommy sat on the gurney, looking dazed but still trying to joke.

"See? I’m fine. You’re overreacting. Classic Evan."

"Take your shirt off," Buck said, already pulling gloves on. "We need to check for bruising."

Tommy leaned back against the gurney, his grin widening lazily. "Oooh you are a medic now? If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could’ve just asked. No need for the whole Christmas emergency."

"Tommy, stop," Buck said, exasperated, his voice sharp with worry. "Just let me check."

Tommy shook his head, folding his arms defiantly. "Nope. Not letting you play doctor."

Hen stepped in, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. "Let the professionals handle this, Buck."

"I can handle it," Buck argued, his eyes fixed on Tommy. "He’s hurt."

Chimney appeared on Buck’s other side, smirking. "He’s always been stubborn. You’re not gonna win this one. Let us do our job."

Buck hesitated, his hands falling to his sides as Hen gently nudged him out of the way. She crouched in front of Tommy, her voice calm but commanding. "Alright, Tommy. You don’t get a choice. Shirt off, now."

Tommy sighed dramatically, wincing slightly as he pulled off his jacket and shirt. Underneath, dark bruises were spreading across his ribs and a faint red mark lingered along his shoulder.

Hen frowned. "That looks nasty. You’re definitely going to the hospital."

"It’s just a bruise," Tommy said with a wave of his hand. "Tough guy stuff, you know."

Chimney raised an eyebrow. "Tough guys don’t take punches like that without flinching. Which you did, by the way."

"That’s because I’m cool under pressure," Tommy said with exaggerated flair.

Buck, standing nearby, crossed his arms tightly, his jaw set. "Cool under pressure doesn’t mean you don’t need help. You’re going to the hospital, Tommy."

Tommy tilted his head toward Buck, his smile turning genuine.

Buck didn’t wait for him to speak, his eyes flicking to the bruises before meeting Tommy’s gaze. "Let’s just get you taken care of."

Hen cleared her throat. "Alright, playtime’s over. Chim, get the monitor. We’re not taking chances with those ribs."

Tommy slumped back against the gurney, his grin faint but still there. "You guys really are like family. Dysfunctional, but family. Awesome."

As Hen and Chimney worked, Buck hovered nearby, his concern palpable. Tommy—even drunk—noticed, his voice softening. "Hey, Evan. I’m okay."

"You don’t look okay," Buck said, his voice clipped.

"But I will be," Tommy murmured. "Thanks… to you and all of you."

The ambulance hummed quietly as it crossed the dark streets, the faint sound of sirens cutting through the stillness. Buck sat on the bench across from Tommy, his eyes fixed on him as Hen drove and Chimney worked on notes up front. Tommy leaned back against the gurney, arms folded across his chest, his bruised face turned toward the ceiling.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Buck asked, breaking the silence.

Tommy tilted his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What? Didn’t the officer give you the play-by-play? It’s pretty simple, guy punches me, I forgive him, everyone moves on."

Buck’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I meant."

"Well, you gotta be more specific, Evan," Tommy said, the grin widening. "I’ve had a lot of adventures tonight. Bar fights, karaoke, getting arrested… It’s been a full Christmas Eve."

Buck leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I mean why you were even there. Why were you drinking alone? Why did you let someone hit you and just—wave it off?"

Tommy shrugged, his expression still light. "Maybe I was spreading Christmas cheer. You know, turn the other cheek and all that."

"Tommy," Buck said, his voice sharper now, "this isn’t funny."

"Neither are you, but we all have our flaws," Tommy quipped, winking. "Come on, lighten up. It’s Christmas."

Buck’s patience frayed. "You’re covered in bruises and sitting in an ambulance, and you’re joking. Why can’t you just be serious now for five minutes?"

The grin on Tommy’s face faltered, and he turned his head away, looking at the far wall of the ambulance. His voice, when it came, was quieter. "Because serious didn’t help."

The tension in the small space grew, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Buck exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to rein in his frustration. His eyes drifted to Tommy again, and that’s when he noticed it—his eyes, red and puffy, like he’d been crying before the fight.

"Tommy…" Buck started, his voice softer. "Have you been—"

"Don’t," Tommy interrupted, his tone flat. "Just… don’t."

Buck fell silent, studying him closer. The faint hollows beneath Tommy’s cheekbones were more pronounced than he remembered, and the way his jacket hung slightly looser over his frame caught his attention. He wasn’t skinny, but he was leaner—more muscular, yes, but not in a healthy way. It looked like someone who’d been skipping meals and pushing too hard.

"You’re not eating enough," Buck said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Tommy glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Didn’t realize you were also a nutritionist now."

Buck’s concern only deepened. "You’re overworking yourself. You’ve always done that, but this—this is different."

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and he looked away again, his voice barely audible. "I’m fine, Evan."

"No, you’re not," Buck shot back, but Tommy didn’t respond. He stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the window as the city lights blurred by.

After a long stretch of silence, Tommy murmured so quietly that Buck almost missed it. "I HATE Christmas. Stupid captain—‘You are taking Christmas off, Kinard.’ Stupid, stupid."

Buck glanced at him, startled by the soft admission. Tommy’s head lolled slightly to the side, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, but the slurred bitterness in his tone cut through the haze of drunkenness.

“Stupid Christmas. Stupid captain made me take it off. What else was I supposed to do?”

"Tommy…" Buck started, but Tommy didn’t look at him. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible and leaned back against the gurney, his expression shutting down entirely.

The ambulance fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the engine. Buck leaned back against the bench, his hands gripping his knees as he tried to process what Tommy had said—or what he didn’t say. He wanted to push, to get answers, but the look on Tommy’s face—the shut-down, closed-off expression—stopped him. For now, at least.

…

The fluorescent lights in the hospital room buzzed as the doctor stood at the foot of Tommy’s bed, flipping through his chart. Tommy sat up slightly, one hand rubbing his forehead as he squinted at the doctor. He was more coherent now, though his eyes still held a hint of fatigue.

“Here’s what we’re looking at,” the doctor began. “Bruised cheek bone, two stitches on the cut above your eyebrow, bruised ribs, and—” he paused, giving Tommy a pointed look, “—a mild concussion. Turns out you did hit your head during the fight. But with how drunk you were, it wasn’t immediately obvious if it was the alcohol or a concussion causing your symptoms.”

Tommy groaned, leaning back against the pillows. “Great. So I’m a walking disaster. Is that what you’re saying?”

The doctor didn’t smile. “I’m saying we’re keeping you overnight for observation. It’s standard with head injuries, and given your condition—”

“I’m fine,” Tommy interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Look, thanks for the concern, but I don’t need to stay here. I just need some water, maybe a snack, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You have a concussion and bruised ribs. This isn’t up for debate.”

“Debate? Come on,” Tommy said, his voice edging on pleading. “I’ve had worse. I’m a firefighter, I know what I’m saying. Just let me go home, and I’ll sleep it off.”

“You’re staying,” Buck’s voice cut through the room before the doctor could respond.

Tommy turned his head sharply, his tired eyes narrowing. “Why are you even here?” he snapped. “Just go. You got me checked in, that’s enough. Thank you very much!”

Buck didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he took a step closer, the tension in his face eased, despite the frustration still lingering in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re staying the night. End of discussion.”

Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing as the motion aggravated his bruised ribs. “Unbelievable. You think you can just waltz in here and—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted again. “You need to rest. Stop arguing.”

For a moment, Tommy just stared at him, his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up the fight. He let out a frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. Whatever.”

Buck nodded once, then turned toward the door. “I’m going to tell everyone your state and that you’re staying the night.”

That stopped Tommy cold. “Everyone?” His voice was sharper now, his head snapping back toward Buck.

Buck paused, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Everyone who needs to know.”

…

When Buck came back Tommy was lying back against the pillows, his face slightly turned to one side. His breathing was slow but uneven, like he was trying to stay awake despite the pull of exhaustion. Buck sat in the chair beside the bed, scrolling through his phone, his leg bouncing slightly in nervous habit.

Minutes passed, the quiet of the hospital only broken by the occasional beep from the monitor. Tommy stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at Buck, who hadn’t noticed he was awake. Tommy’s gaze lingered on him, taking in the familiar slope of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow as he focused on his screen. Finally, Tommy sighed, his voice soft and scratchy.

“Another Christmas at the hospital. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Buck’s head snapped up, startled. “Uh, you woke up.”

Tommy smiled faintly, shifting slightly on the bed. “Yeah, happens sometimes.”

Buck leaned forward, tucking his phone away. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Should I call the doctor?”

Tommy shook his head and immediately regretted it, wincing as pain shot through his temple. “Ow. Nope. Definitely no head shaking.”

Buck stood quickly, his concern sharpening. “You okay? Want me to get someone?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, his voice sharp. He looked at Buck and gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for staying, though. Uh… sorry about your shift.”

Buck moved to stand beside the bed, waving it off casually. “Bobby gave me the rest off. I’ll cover another shift later. It’s fine.”

Tommy winced again as he shifted to sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, sorry… you know you didn’t have to.”

Buck’s expression relaxed, but there was a weight to his gaze as he looked down at Tommy. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, without warning, Buck reached out, his hand brushing gently against Tommy’s bruised cheek.

Tommy froze, startled by the touch. His instinct was to lean back, but instead, he found himself leaning into Buck’s palm, almost without thinking. “Uh, what…”

“Tommy... you’re hurt,” Buck said, his voice quiet and firm.

Tommy blinked at him, then let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Duh.”

Buck didn’t move his hand, his thumb grazing just below the cut near Tommy’s eyebrow. “No, Tommy,” he said, his voice heavier now. “You’re hurt.”

The words landed with a weight that seemed to knock the air out of the room. Tommy stared up at him, his expression unreadable, until his eyes began to glisten. He blinked rapidly, turning his face slightly to avoid Buck’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

“You’re not,” Buck said, lowering his hand but not stepping away. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to push the emotion back down. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

Buck pulled the chair closer and sat down his eyes drifted to the bruises shadowing Tommy’s cheek and the faint red line where the stitches had been placed, “You don’t always have to handle it alone, you know. You can… let someone in. Let me in.”

For a long moment, Tommy didn’t respond. Then he exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the pillow.

“I think I forgot how.” his voice quiet, almost fragile. It was the kind of admission that wasn’t meant to be heard aloud.

Buck’s chest tightened at the words. He gave a faint, sad smile. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

Tommy’s gaze flicked toward him, a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe hope, but definitely vulnerability. It wasn’t a side of Tommy Buck had seen often, and it wasn’t one Tommy would have willingly shown under normal circumstances. But here, under the dim hospital lights, stripped of his usual defenses, he couldn’t hide.

Tommy shifted slightly, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of the hospital blanket, where Buck's hand rested. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he muttered, his tone lighter now, though the exhaustion still lingered.

Buck let out a small laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

Tommy smirked faintly at that, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Buck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because you need someone to be.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

Buck’s response was immediate, no hesitation in it. “You do.”

For a moment, Tommy said nothing, his eyes drifting toward the window, where the faint glow of the city lights filtered through the blinds. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Buck straightened slightly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to be. I told you we’ll figure it out together.”

Tommy looked at him again, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, he nodded—just a small, almost imperceptible movement—and leaned his head back against the pillow once more.

Buck hesitated, then said quietly, “Uh… Merry Christmas…?”

The words seemed to break something loose in Tommy. He suddenly sat up, his movements sharp and panicked, a decision he regretted immediately. His face contorted in pain as he squeezed his eyes shut, a wince escaping his lips. “Shit,” he hissed, his hand instinctively clutching his side. “Shit, Evan, it’s Christmas!”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the outburst. “Tommy—”

“You should be with your family, not in a hospital!” Tommy’s voice cracked slightly, and his hands trembled as he rubbed at his face. His breathing hitched, and for a moment, it looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean to— You shouldn’t be— God, this is all—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted softly, standing and taking a step closer to the bed.

Tommy shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should be with your family. Or—hell, with the 118—they’re your family anyway.”

Buck sighed, ducking his head for a moment as he tried to steady himself. Then, with quiet determination, he moved closer, cupping Tommy’s face with both hands and gently forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Tommy,” he said firmly, his voice steady and filled with certainty. “Don’t you get it? I am exactly where I want to be.”

[misaerabl]

What's Your Christmas Wish?

Younger ellie X Older Reader

SUMMARY: Life in a small town is simple—until Ellie Williams comes along. At 21, she’s charming, persistent, and entirely too good at testing your resolve. For a year, she’s made her feelings for you abundantly clear, despite your insistence that the age gap is a dealbreaker. But on Christmas Eve, amidst the glow of fairy lights and the warmth of a town gathering, Ellie’s determination might just prove harder to ignore. As snow falls and boundaries blur, you’re left to wonder: is it the holiday magic, or has Ellie been right all along? WARNINGS: age gap, (Ellie is 21, no specific age mentioned but reader is in middle-late twenties), fingering, oral sex, top ellie, bottom reader, she calls you nurse sunshine, beautiful, etc.

December 22.

The warmth of the clinic wraps around you like a blanket as you organize patient files, the occasional Christmas jingle playing faintly from your phone. You’ve always loved this time of year—the crisp snow, the twinkling lights, the quiet hum of a small town preparing for the holidays.

But Ellie, well… Ellie loves to make this time of year something else entirely.

The bell above the door jingles, and you look up to see her strolling in, cheeks pink from the cold, auburn hair peeking out from under a wool hat. She’s carrying a tray of steaming hot cocoa in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other.

“Ellie,” you say with a sigh, knowing exactly what’s coming. “You can’t keep showing up like this.”

“And you can’t keep pretending you don’t like it,” she retorts, setting the tray on the counter. Her grin is nothing short of shameless, the same one that’s been chipping away at your resolve since the day you met her.

“Ellie—”

“Relax. It’s Christmas,” she interrupts, sliding one of the cups toward you. “Consider it my gift to you, Nurse Sunshine.”

You give her a pointed look at the nickname, but she only shrugs, unbothered. This has been her game for the past year: showing up unannounced, delivering food or drinks, and throwing out lines that would’ve worked on someone less resistant. But you know better—or at least, you tell yourself you do.

“You’re a college student,” you remind her for the hundredth time. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with people your age?”

She leans on the counter, a playful glint in her eyes. “Maybe. But why would I waste my time with them when I could be here, convincing you to finally say yes to dinner?”

Your laugh escapes before you can stop it. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only because you’re worth it,” she shoots back smoothly. Her confidence is infuriatingly endearing, and you have to look away before she notices the faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Ellie, this… whatever you’re doing—it’s not going to happen,” you say, trying to sound firm. “There’s an age gap, and—”

“I’m 21, not 16,” she interjects, rolling her eyes. “You act like I’m some clueless kid.”

“And you act like you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, softer this time. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly touched. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re beautiful,” she says without missing a beat, her grin returning. “But hey, I’ll leave you to your work. Just wanted to drop these off.”

She winks, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. Before she leaves, she pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Beautiful. I’ll see you around.”

The bell jingles as she disappears into the snow, leaving you with a tray of cocoa, a bag of pastries, and a heart that’s just a little too warm for comfort.

Ellie doesn’t make it easy to focus on your work after that. You sip the hot cocoa—it’s perfect, annoyingly so—and glance at the pastries, neatly arranged in their bag like a gift you didn’t ask for but can’t quite refuse.

She’s persistent, you’ll give her that. Every time you think she’ll finally take the hint, she bounces back with another clever line, another charming grin, another gesture that makes your heart waver just enough to frustrate you.

It’s late by the time you leave the clinic, the streets quiet under a blanket of snow. You’re halfway home when you see her again, this time standing by the town’s massive Christmas tree in the square. Strings of colorful lights cast a warm glow on her face as she fiddles with her scarf, pacing like she’s waiting for someone.

You hesitate. Maybe you could slip past unnoticed. But as if sensing your presence, she looks up, and her face lights up in a way that makes escape impossible.

“Hey!” she calls out, jogging over. “Leaving work so late?”

“It’s part of the job,” you reply, pulling your coat tighter against the cold. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you, apparently,” she says, falling into step beside you. “Thought you might need some company on the way home.”

You roll your eyes. “Ellie, I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone.”

“Sure you are. But where’s the fun in that?”

Her tone is playful, but there’s a sincerity in her eyes that makes your chest tighten. You’ve spent the past year trying to ignore the way she looks at you, the way her words linger in your mind longer than they should. It’s easier to focus on the reasons why this can’t happen than to acknowledge the part of you that wonders, just for a moment, what if?

“Ellie,” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “The age gap, the professionalism, all that. I get it. But, come on, it’s Christmas. Can’t we just… enjoy the moment?”

You stop walking, turning to face her. She looks up at you, her auburn hair catching the light from a nearby lamppost, and for a second, you hate how easy she makes it to forget all the reasons why you’ve been saying no.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s not fair?” she asks, her tone softer now, almost vulnerable.

“The way you make me feel,” you admit, surprising even yourself. “You’re young, Ellie. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to waste it on someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” she echoes, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re incredible. And if you think I don’t know what I want, you’re wrong.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. She steps closer, her breath visible in the cold night air.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she says. “I’m just asking for a chance. One chance.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of her gaze almost too much to bear. You want to say no, to give her the same answer you’ve given a hundred times before. But something about the way she looks at you—like you’re the only person in the world who matters—makes it harder than ever to walk away.

“Ellie…” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

“Just think about it,” she says softly, stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Ellie steps back with a small smirk. “Just think about it,” she repeats softly.

But instead of turning to leave, she takes a step forward, brushing past you and walking ahead toward the direction of your house. She glances back over her shoulder, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Come on,” she says, tilting her head toward the road. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift, but she doesn’t give you much choice. The snow crunches under your boots as you follow her, her pace casual but her presence anything but.

“You know,” you say, catching up to her, “I thought you were all about dramatic exits. What happened to leaving me with some cryptic line?”

She grins, her breath visible in the frigid air. “I figured walking you home might make a better impression. Besides, I didn’t feel like saying goodbye yet.”

You sigh, shaking your head, but there’s no denying the warmth in your chest—whether from her words or the fact that she’s still here, you’re not sure. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Persistent or charming?” she teases, her tone light. “Be honest.”

“Borderline annoying,” you counter, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your words.

She laughs, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, the world feels a little brighter despite the winter chill. You walk in comfortable silence for a while, the snow falling gently around you, the quiet of the small town wrapping you both in its peaceful embrace.

As you near your house, Ellie slows, falling into step beside you. “I’m serious, though,” she says, her voice softer now. “I get why you’re hesitant, and I respect it. But… I really do like you, [Your Name]. More than just some crush.”

Her words hit you harder than you expect, and you glance at her. She’s looking ahead, her profile illuminated by the glow of a streetlamp. There’s no trace of the usual playfulness in her expression—just sincerity and a hint of vulnerability.

You stop in front of your house, the warm glow of the porch light cutting through the night. Ellie stops too, turning to face you. “I’m not asking for an answer now,” she says. “I just want you to know how I feel. And that I’ll wait… as long as it takes.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters—makes it impossible to dismiss her entirely.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you say finally, your voice quiet.

Ellie nods, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Anytime.”

You unlock the door and step inside, hesitating for just a second. She stays on the porch, hands back in her pockets, a soft smile still lingering on her face.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” you say, your tone gentler than before.

“Goodnight, Beautiful,” she replies, and with one last look, she turns and heads back down the snowy path.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. Your heart feels unsteady, caught between logic and the pull of something you’re not sure you can keep ignoring.

And as you glance at the tray of cocoa and the star ornament Ellie left earlier, you can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

December 24, christmas eve

The Anderson house was stunning, wrapped in glowing lights and adorned with wreaths and garlands at every corner. It looked like something out of a holiday movie, with the laughter and chatter of nearly the entire town spilling out into the frosty air. You stepped inside, greeted by the warmth and the unmistakable aroma of mulled wine and fresh pine.

You spotted Jerry Anderson almost immediately, his booming laughter unmistakable as he entertained a group near the fireplace. His daughter, Abby, wasn’t far off, standing tall and commanding attention effortlessly. She waved you over when she saw you, her bright smile as inviting as her father’s hospitality.

"Hey! long time no see,” Abby greeted, her voice warm and confident. She towered over most people in the room, her broad shoulders and easy posture making her presence impossible to miss.

“Abby, hi,” you replied with a smile, grateful to find someone familiar in the crowd. “How’s it going?”

“Busy, as usual,” she said, gesturing for you to join her by the side table laden with appetizers. “But I’ve been home for a couple of weeks now. It’s nice to have some downtime.”

You nodded, picking up a glass of cider as she continued. “What about you? How’s life at the clinic? Still saving lives left and right?”

You chuckled. “Not quite as dramatic as that, but yeah, keeping busy.”

Abby leaned against the table, genuinely interested. “You must have some stories, though. Come on, give me the juiciest one.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Patient confidentiality, remember? But let’s just say, small towns definitely keep you on your toes.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, diving into topics of medicine and health. As a soldier, Abby had seen her fair share of injuries and medical emergencies, and her insights made the discussion lively and engaging. You found yourself enjoying the back-and-forth, though oblivious to the way her smile lingered a little longer on you or the subtle warmth in her voice.

Across the room, Ellie spotted you. She froze mid-conversation with a group of her friends, her eyes narrowing as they landed on you and Abby. Her jaw clenched when she noticed how close Abby was standing, the way her hand casually rested on the back of your chair as you laughed at something she said.

Ellie’s friend nudged her. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Ellie snapped out of it, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. Just… thirsty. I’ll be back.”

She excused herself, weaving through the crowd with a cider in hand but no intention of drinking it. Her steps slowed as she approached the area where you and Abby stood, unnoticed by either of you. She leaned against a nearby pillar, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Abby lean in closer, her voice dropping slightly as she said something that made you smile.

Ellie’s grip tightened around her cup. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the way Abby looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky or the fact that you didn’t seem to notice.

Ellie lingered by the pillar, her knuckles whitening around the cup as Abby leaned closer, whispering something that made you laugh softly. The sound lit up the room for Ellie, but not in the way it usually did. Tonight, it felt like it was for someone else entirely—and that someone wasn’t her.

Her chest tightened as Abby straightened up, glancing toward an older woman waving her over from across the room. Abby’s face briefly soured before she plastered on a polite smile and turned back to you.

“Looks like my dad’s trying to set me up again,” Abby muttered, her voice low but just loud enough for you to hear.

You raised an eyebrow. “Set you up? With who?”

Abby tilted her head toward a tall, broad-shouldered man standing stiffly near her father. “That guy. He’s a doctor, apparently. Or at least that’s what my dad’s been bragging about all night. Like that’s supposed to impress me.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the corners of your lips curling upward. “What, not your type?”

Abby smirked, leaning just a little closer. “Not even in the same galaxy as my type. But Dad’s already waving me over, so I guess I can’t avoid it.” She glanced at you, her eyes glinting with humor. “Wish me luck?”

You chuckled. “Good luck, Abby. Don’t be too mean to him.”

She winked before standing up straight and heading toward her father, muttering under her breath as she went.

Ellie saw her chance and took it. She pushed off the pillar and strode toward you, her steps deliberate and purposeful. By the time you noticed her, she was already sliding into the chair Abby had vacated.

“Hey,” Ellie said casually, though her eyes betrayed her tension.

You blinked in surprise. “Ellie? I didn’t even see you there.”

She shrugged, setting her cider down on the table. “You seemed pretty… busy.” The edge in her tone was subtle but enough to make you pause.

You tilted your head at her. “Is something wrong?”

Ellie shook her head quickly, her expression softening slightly. “No, just thought I’d say hi. It’s Christmas Eve, after all.” She leaned back in her chair, her usual confidence returning as she added, “Figured I’d rescue you from whatever overly charming nonsense Abby was throwing your way.”

Your lips quirked up, but you shook your head. “Ellie, we were just talking. It’s not like that.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Not like what?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Ellie said with a small smirk, though her eyes lingered on you a moment longer than they should. “Anyway, Merry Christmas, Nurse Sunshine.”

She picked up her cider and raised it slightly in a mock toast. You couldn’t help but smile at her, despite the slight tension still hanging in the air.

The room buzzed with excitement as the countdown to Christmas neared its final moments. People gathered closer together, their faces lit by the warm glow of twinkling lights and the gentle flicker of the fireplace. You stood among the crowd, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched the joy radiating around you.

As the countdown hit ten, you glanced up at the ceiling, noticing the delicate greenery of a mistletoe hanging just above you. The realization made you chuckle softly. Of course, Jerry Anderson would have mistletoe.

“Didn’t think I’d find you standing here,” a familiar voice said behind you, warm and teasing.

You turned, already knowing who it was. Ellie stood there, her hands in her jacket pockets, her green eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and nervousness. Your gaze flickered upward again, realizing with a slight jolt that she was standing directly beneath the mistletoe with you.

Ellie followed your line of sight, and her smirk widened. “Well, would you look at that?” she said, her tone light, but there was a softness in her eyes that made your heart skip. “Guess this is what they call fate, huh?”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect the weight of the moment. “I think it’s just poorly placed holiday decor.”

Ellie took a small step closer, her expression more serious now, though the smile still lingered on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

The countdown reached five, and the crowd’s cheers grew louder around you, but it all seemed to fade as Ellie’s gaze locked with yours.

“Four…”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came.

“Three…”

Ellie tilted her head slightly, the playful confidence giving way to something more vulnerable.

“Two…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“One…”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

And then Ellie closed the distance, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of all the things she’d been holding back for a year.

The room erupted into cheers and laughter, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, standing beneath the mistletoe as the world blurred around you.

Ellie pulled away slowly, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet space that lingered between the two of you. Her eyes searched yours, soft and vulnerable, the playful spark now gone. The weight of the moment hung heavy, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, a steady beat that seemed to echo in the air around you.

The world outside the bubble you shared felt far away. The warm glow of the lights, the hum of voices and laughter, all faded into a distant memory. It was just the two of you, standing beneath the mistletoe, and the silence between you was as intimate as any words could be.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Ellie whispered, her voice barely audible above the sounds of the room, but to you, it was the only sound that mattered.

You swallowed, your mind spinning with emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully feel. “Ellie…”

She smiled, her fingers brushing against yours, tentative yet familiar. “I know. I know it’s been complicated. But tonight… I couldn’t let it pass by without telling you. Without showing you.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of emotions flooding your veins. It was like a slow-burning fire, growing warmer with every second that passed. The tension that had been building for so long finally cracked, and in its place was something softer, something fragile, yet full of promise.

"You've never stopped making me feel..." you began, the words coming unbidden. "Like maybe you were right all along."

Ellie’s eyes softened, as if hearing the truth she'd always known. She took a small step back, the tip of her nose grazing yours as she let out a breathless laugh. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The clock struck midnight, and the room burst into applause, but neither of you moved. The world outside was celebrating, but here, beneath the mistletoe, it felt like time had stopped. A single moment that would be etched into your memory, like the twinkling lights above, a reminder that sometimes, love finds its way through the smallest of things.

Ellie’s hand slipped into yours, the simple contact grounding you, pulling you back into reality as her smile softened. “I meant it, you know. I’ve been waiting for you. Just… let me wait a little longer.”

And in that quiet exchange, amidst the noise of the world, you realized that you were no longer standing alone. You were standing with Ellie, beneath the mistletoe, but more than that, you were standing together, and somehow, that made all the difference.

The crisp winter air bit at your skin as you walked side by side with Ellie, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound filling the silence. The lights of the town slowly faded behind you, leaving just the glow of the moon and the stars above. Despite the cold, you found yourself warm beside Ellie, the weight of the kiss still lingering between you like a soft, unspoken promise.

Ellie kept her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, but every now and then, she'd glance at you, her eyes bright, as if she was trying to memorize the way you looked tonight—the way the snow caught in your hair, the way the streetlights cast shadows on your face.

When you reached your doorstep, she paused, her gaze falling to the ground. "I guess this is where I leave you," she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

You hesitated, the pull of her presence undeniable. The night had been full of quiet, unspoken moments, and you didn’t want it to end just yet. "Ellie..." you began, your voice tentative but sure. "Do you want to come inside for a bit?"

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation in her—like she wasn’t sure whether to take that step forward or hold back. But then the corner of her mouth quirked up in that familiar, confident smile, and she nodded.

"I’d like that," she said softly, her voice warm with something that felt both new and familiar.

You stepped aside, letting her in, and as she entered, the warmth of your house seemed to wrap around you both, pushing back the cold of the night. Ellie kicked off her boots by the door and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it on the hook with careful ease.

The soft hum of your house felt soothing, and as you moved into the living room, you gestured toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab something to drink."

Ellie settled into the couch with a deep sigh, her eyes glancing around the room. "It’s nice in here," she said, her voice soft, but her gaze was steady, like she was taking in every little detail.

You nodded, making your way to the kitchen. The silence was peaceful, not awkward, just comfortable in the way only a few people could ever manage to make it feel. You returned with two mugs of tea, the steam rising from them like the warmth of the moment you’d shared only an hour before.

You sat down beside her, the space between you smaller than it had ever been before. As you handed her a mug, your fingers brushed lightly against hers, and for a second, the world outside the room felt miles away.

"I’m glad you came inside," you said, your voice softer than you intended, but it felt right.

Ellie smiled, her gaze flickering toward you for a brief moment before it shifted to the mug in her hands. "I’m glad you asked me to." Her voice held something deeper this time—a quiet sincerity that made your chest tighten with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The soft crackle of the fire in the corner was the only sound, filling the space between you with its comforting rhythm.

But then Ellie broke the silence, her voice just above a whisper. "I don’t know what happens next... but I’m okay with figuring it out, if you are."

You met her gaze then, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. You nodded, your heart beating faster now, in a way that felt right, in a way that made everything fall into place.

"Yeah," you said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I think I’m ready to figure it out."

The quiet between you and Ellie lingered, comfortable and filled with the soft glow of the moment. The warmth of the house, the scent of tea, the flickering light from the fireplace—all of it wrapped around you like a blanket, but nothing compared to the way Ellie’s presence filled the space. It was gentle, but undeniable, like she was the missing piece you didn’t even realize you’d been waiting for.

As you sat there, her eyes kept flicking to you, her lips pressed into a small smile, but there was a tension in her gaze, a quiet intensity. You could feel her wanting to say something, or maybe do something, but the words and actions were both suspended, hanging between the two of you like the very air you breathed.

Then, without warning, Ellie shifted closer. She leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. Her gaze dropped to your lips for a moment, and that subtle movement told you everything you needed to know. The hesitation, the uncertainty, it was all gone. The distance was gone, too. She was right there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the softness of her touch that you had learned to crave.

Her lips brushed against yours softly at first, like a question, like an invitation. And this time, there was no hesitation from you. You melted into the kiss, your hands moving instinctively to her face. The moment her lips met yours again, something in you shifted—flooded with warmth, with a deep sense of longing that you hadn’t fully realized you were carrying.

Ellie’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, her body aligning with yours in perfect rhythm. You could feel the way her heartbeat quickened, the way the world outside seemed to fade away entirely. She was the only thing you could focus on, her warmth, the way she made you feel alive, the way she made everything feel right.

Your hands cupped her face, pulling her closer, as the kiss deepened. Every movement between you felt instinctual, raw, like the way the earth moves without thought. Her lips were soft and sure against yours, coaxing and gentle, as if she knew exactly how to make you feel everything without saying a word.

The world around you faded as you both melted into each other, the kiss a slow dance of longing, of closeness. Time lost meaning as the pull between you intensified, and all you could think about was how perfect it felt to be here, with her. Ellie, the girl who had quietly found a way into your heart without you even realizing it, was now pulling you into her world, and for the first time, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

In that moment, nothing mattered except the feeling of her touch, the warmth of her embrace, and the quiet promise in the way her lips met yours.

Ellie's eyes sparkled with mischief as she gently pushed you back onto the plush couch. Despite the chill outside, the room felt warm and cozy. She crawled on top of you, her body pressing against yours through layers of winter clothing."Mmm, you feel so good," Ellie purred, her lips brushing against your ear. Her hands slid under your sweater, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

She shifted, straddling your thigh as she captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Her tongue teased yours as her hips began a slow, sensual grind against your leg. Even through your pants, you could feel the heat emanating from her core."God, I want you so badly," Ellie breathed, her voice husky with desire. She tugged at the button of your jeans."Can I touch you? Please?"

"Yeah… You can," you breathed, your body arching into Ellie's touch. 

Ellie's fingers deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

"You're so beautiful," Ellie murmured, her fingers gliding through your slick folds."Does this feel good, baby?"

Her thumb found your clit, circling it gently as her other hand pushed your sweater up, exposing your bra. Ellie's eyes darkened with lust as she gazed down at you.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, lowering her head to place open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Ellie's fingers continued their sensual exploration, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body. Her touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending."You feel amazing," you gasped, your hips rocking against her hand. "Don't stop..."

Ellie's eyes locked with yours, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I'm just getting started," she purred. 

Her fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before slowly sliding inside. You moaned at the delicious stretch, your inner walls clenching around her digits.

"That's it," Ellie encouraged, her voice husky with desire. "Does that feel okay?"

She began a steady rhythm, her thumb still circling your clit as her fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot. The couch creaked softly beneath you as your body writhed in pleasure.

"Ellie," you whimpered, your hands gripping her shoulders. "Oh god, Ellie..."

Ellie's fingers continued their passionate exploration, her movements becoming more intense as she felt your body responding. She curled her fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars."Fuck, you’re gorgeous" Ellie groaned, her breath hot against your ear."I love how wet you are for me."

Her thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling it with quick, precise movements. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pleasure building rapidly in your core.

"I want to taste you," Ellie whispered, her voice dripping with lust. "Can I use my mouth on you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she began kissing her way down your body. Her free hand pushed your sweater up further, exposing your breasts. Ellie's tongue flicked over your nipple through the fabric of your bra, making you gasp."Ellie, please," you whimpered, your hips bucking against her hand.

She grinned wickedly, slowly withdrawing her fingers from your pussy. You whined at the loss, but Ellie quickly shimmied down your body, positioning herself between your legs.

"I've got you," she purred, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties.

Ellie slowly tugged your jeans and panties down, her eyes darkening with desire as she revealed your glistening pussy. She licked her lips, her hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh."God, you’re beautiful," Ellie murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns on your inner thighs."You’re perfect."

Without further preamble, she leaned in, her tongue flattening against your slick folds. You gasped at the sensation, your hips instinctively arching up to meet her mouth. Ellie moaned appreciatively, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

Her tongue explored every inch of you, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks against your clit. Your hands tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as pleasure built within you.

"Fuck, Ellie," you whimpered, your thighs trembling. "Feels so good..."

Ellie's response was to redouble her efforts, her lips wrapping around your clit as she sucked gently. Two fingers slid inside you once more, curling to hit that perfect spot as she pleasured you with her mouth.

The dual stimulation was overwhelming.

All the things that had consumed your thoughts—the age gap, the judgment you might face, the whispers in a small town where everyone knew everyone’s business—faded into nothingness. You, a nurse in your late twenties, admired and respected in the community, and Ellie Williams, a 21-year-old college student with ambition and fire in her eyes. For so long, the idea of being with her felt like a risk too great to take.

But now, as you sink into the couch, all of that worry dissolves. Her touch is a balm to your overthinking mind, her presence grounding you in the here and now. Every careful brush of her fingers, every dance of her tongue, reminds you of how alive she makes you feel. And as she continues to lavish you, the world outside ceases to matter. All you can think about is her—Ellie—and how effortlessly she makes all your fears disappear.

She continued her relentless exploration, her free hand gliding up your chest with purpose before squeezing gently, igniting a trail of warmth in its wake. Her tongue, soft yet commanding, danced against you, pulling you deeper into the moment, leaving no room for anything but her.

She doesn’t stop, her fingers pumping inside, her tongue making your pussy feel good, building you up until you finally come undone, breathless and trembling. 

Ellie catches you effortlessly, her hold firm yet gentle, pulling you close against her chest. The glow of the Christmas lights dances across her face as she looks down at you, her eyes soft with adoration.

"God," she murmurs, her fingers brushing through your hair. "You’re so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this."

Her words are a balm, soothing every doubt and fear you’d held onto. “The whole year, you know? I’ve been waiting for you to give me an answer. And you were worth every second.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm and lingering.

Her arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you further into her embrace. "This... this is all I wanted for Christmas," she whispers, her voice full of raw honesty. "You’re my Christmas wish come true."

You let out a soft laugh, your chest still heaving as you lean into her warmth. She tilts your chin up, her eyes sparkling with something deeper than desire. "So," she says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, "what do you say we make this official? A proper date. Just you and me. No hiding, no excuses. What do you think?"

[glamourscat]

I LOVE UR TIM FICS SM HES LITERALLY MY BABY I LOVE HEARING PPL TALK ABT HIM MORE‼️‼️

Anyway I was wondering if I could request a fic of reader teasing/flirting with Tim to see him blush and maybe throw in some smooches stolen

TY IF U CHOOSE TO WRITE THIS 🙏🙏

Tim, are you blushing? | tim drake x reader

a/n: sorry for the wait, i hope you like this <3

For someone so brilliant, so capable of leading teams and solving impossible cases, Tim turned into an adorable mess when flustered.

And you? Well, you'd made it your personal mission to see that blush as often as possible. Because after all, if a loophole is present, why not take advantage of it? 

"Hey, pretty boy," you called out, leaning against the doorframe of the Batcave's computer station. Tim was hunched over the keyboard, analyzing some ridiculously complex case. Typical. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up. So absorbed into his work he did not even hear you properly. 

You grinned, skipping over to where he was sitting. "You know, for someone with such amazing detective skills, you're pretty oblivious."

That got his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you draped yourself over the back of his chair, your breath tickling his ear, "you haven't noticed I've been wearing your hoodie all day."

Tim's typing stuttered to a halt. He turned slowly, those blue eyes widening as he finally noticed his favorite hoodie draped over your frame. His scent, the mix of tea, lavender and talk is so strong and most of all, it all over you. 

"I- when did you-" A pink tint crept up his neck.

"This morning. After you left for patrol" You hummed, moving to sit besides him. "It's super comfy. I might keep it."

"That's- I mean-" He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You can't just steal my clothes."

"Why not? Do I not look good in it?," you grinned, showing off your figure teasingly. And there it was. That full-blown blush you'd been aiming for. "Besides, you love seeing me in your clothes. Don't even try to deny it."

Tim ran a hand through his messy black hair, a nervous habit you know too well by now. "You're– i.. Well, damn it" he stutters flustered as he bites his lower lip. 

His blue eyes looking at yours intensly, his face illuminated thanks to the batcave computer. And you did not miss how his eyes darted from your face to your lips. Well… who are you lose an opportunity, right? You lean over and quickly steal a peck. 

A rather embarrassing yet endearing quiet moan leaves his lips at the unexpected yet welcome contact. 

“You did not just..” he looks at you with his mouth slightly apart like a fish.

You reached out, gently brushing his bangs from his eyes. "Aw, so cute." it was not meant to come accross in a mocking way, but objectively speaking, you were feeling so damn cocky right now.

Your comment is what makes him react though. In a few seconds he stood up, his hands on your waist squeezing, as his forehead rests against yours. So close, damn he is so hot. Your heart did a little flip at the sudden proximity.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"I know I am."

"Always teasing me," he murmured, leaning somehow even closer. "Always trying to make me blush."

"Can you blame me? You're adorable when you're flustered. I just wanna kiss you senseless."

His eyes flickered to your lips. "Maybe I should return the favor."

Before you could come up with a witty response, he was the one to closed the distance this time, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, soft kiss. It was your turn to be surprised, melting into him as one of his hands moved to cup your cheek.

When he pulled back, there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Now who's blushing?"

You laugh quietly. "Always needing to have the last word hmm?" Your hands go on his hips.

You two spent the rest of your afternoon kissing. Smiling maybe too much for it to be perfect, but somehow that made it even better. And if anyone noticed that Tim's productivity took a serious hit that afternoon, or the fact that he looked like he ran a marathon-- with his messy hair, panting breath, red cheeks and puffy lips-- well, nobody pointed it out.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[erralinadventures]

okay so, I saw this, and decided I was bored again(I'm always bored), and so I shall answer this for Kinnio! He is the only character in Erralin I actually played as a DND character, from level 1.

Yes. Though trauma is usually not something he considers.

Usually saving them from a physical threat, like a dragon or bandits.

Fun Fact: Kinnio is an Illeist. Meaning he refers to himself in the third person, so usually it sounds like he's talking about someone else if you don't know him. But, to the actual question. He would probably be like, 'Kinnio is a super cool warrior king who can vanquish any foe set in front of him'. or just 'Kinnio super strong and cool.'

They percieve themselves well, not really having any problems with themselves, except that he could just be a better warrior.

He stabs into the air a few times, yelling something random.

Thunderstorms. It creates fun battle backgrounds

1994 Toyota Corolla. Why? I've seen too many memes recently.

Eh. I'd say pretty decisive, considering in the campaign he was played in, he made a lot of...decisions. (Nuking a city, nuking a giant stone mech, challenging a demon king, war crimes, buying a tavern, hatching literally every egg he found, including a tarrasque egg.)

Like the entire menu. Not a scrap of that food is being wasted either.

Normally by messing with his hands(Cracking his knuckles, tapping his fingers, cracking his fingers.)

Romantically, he will immediately just be the biggest gentleman whenever he is speaking to them. Also he likes carrying people. Platonically, he'll just be really nice to you and treat you as an equal. Or superior.

I'll just say, there is probably going to be a dead dragon by the end of it.

Silver. While gold is more valuable, he does like the color of silver and normally has his equipment made in that color or with that metal.

He honestly could not care. A little lie isn't one that will hurt anyone.

Strangely, he does like weddings. He doesn't like the people much, but he will usually bring the biggest gift. As a King of Erralin(Modern Day), it isn't unusual for him to appear at weddings, even if it's a commoner wedding.

He is the target demographic for most modern men care products. So like wood and other 'manly' things.

we love the fact you have to specify. Anyways, He likes apples and melon.

Uh, I don't know? I've never heard of this scale, so I'm going to just....skip it. Though it was an interesting google search.

Fighting, and any of the ancient pokemon, or Galarian Zapdos.

White Chocolate.

I don't know any, so I apologize.

He is incredibly loyal and will fight to the death for an ally he trusts.

His trust is hard to gain, and one of the easiest ways is proving a capable warrior.

No, because he can't read...sometimes. Sometimes he can. Depends on if the book has pictures.

I again, have no idea. I think I'm just stupid.

He would love the drift answer, but yeah, he would just pull the lever. That is, if he isn't allowed to just stop the trolley himself.

Fight his way back up. Failure is not an option.

He usually works out or finds one of his many pets, commonly his dragon, Crimson.

I might as well give up, I don't like not answering questions.

He typically just does whatever the hell you want him to do. He is basically just going to just dedicate himself to you.

The Chaos. Honestly, he is very consistent, but also chaotic, my DM has expressed since day 1 that Kinnio was his favourite character in the campaign, and he has tried killing him off ever since, to no avail.

I'm going to assume you mean a different person's action, and not at all. Canonically, King Kinnio killed a shop owner for retaliating against one of the party members(He also had no idea the party member was in the wrong, he just heard someone yell for help and jumped into action. The party member basically manipulated him into it.)

Not very. Usually, he just acts then thinks later.

No. Especially with his party, there is only one person he trusts more than anyone, and would only talk to him about his plans, if he had any at the time.

Alcohol. Wine, Beer, or any monster drop. He would also be the only character(That I can remember) that you can give old weapons to.

The most beautiful face any person has every seen, next. But really though, of the people he would know, it would probably be a royal he met in the campaign he was a PC in.

A poppy, as in the world wars they were a symbol of a battle fought.

For every character(Except Sparta) I use a random name generator and alter the name slightly.

Meat loversx10. It's probably going to be like 90% meat.

He eats a lot, due to his abilities draining his energy. A lot of it is unhealthy eating.

Wish. He has casted it like 8 times between levels 13 and 16.

It wouldn't really make sense unless you played the campaign, but the royal mentioned before, her husband, Sparta(He was thrown into the campaign hastily bc the DM didn't want to come up with a shopkeep), arnold schwarzenegger(He was also in the campaign)

Himself. He usually doesn't think about what other people might want unless they mention it directly.

DND Ask Meme but it's random questions I've asked other players apropos of nothing within the last 6 months

Does your PC believe it’s possible to save someone?

What does saving a person involve?

How would your PC describe themselves?

How do they perceive themselves?

What is your PC’s idle animation?

What weather does your PC prefer? Why?

So if your PC had a car what kind of car would it be

How decisive is your PC?

If your PC rolled through a McDonald’s what would they order 

How does your PC fidget?

How does your PC show affection?

If your PC had to set up a date, what would they plan for it?

What’s your PCs favorite color

How does your PC feel about white lies?

How does your PC feel about marriage? Weddings?

What scents do you associate with your PC? 

What are your PCs favorite fruits (not including gay people) 

Where would your PCs fall on the futch scale? 

What is your PC’s Pokemon Gym Leader type and Signature Pokemon?

What type of chocolate do they prefer? 

What tarot would your PC be? 

What is your PC’s #1 personality strength?

What is your PC’s #1 personality flaw? 

If your PC found a book that detailed their whole life, from birth to whatever death they’ll have, would they read it and why? 

What are your PC’s charm point(s)! 

How would your PC answer the trolley problem? 

When your PCs hit rock bottom, what do they do?  

When your PCs want comfort, what do they seek out? 

Please describe your PC’s romantic type 

How does your PC flirt? 

What’s your favorite part of playing your PC? 

How much does your PC think about their actions before they execute them? 

How considerate is your PC? 

Is your PC an effective communicator? What is their communication style? 

If your PC was a dating option in a farming simulator (a la harvest moon or stardew valley), what kind of items would they like? 

Your PC meets a trickster being whose face changes to the most beautiful face a person has ever seen. Whose face is your PC seeing? 

What flower represents your PC? 

How did you choose your PC’s name? 

What would your PC put on their pizza? 

What are your PC’s eating habits? 

Does your PC have a favorite spell, and if so, which? 

Who is your PC’s favorite NPC(s) and why?

When your PCs make decisions, who or what are they making those decisions on behalf of?

[thethronezone]

Primarchs holding their child for the first time

At first, Mortarion's hold on them is awkward, his body tense and brows furrowed like he's holding a bomb instead of an infant. But ever so slowly, he relaxes. His expression eases up into one of quiet contemplation and slight wonder. He suddenly feels younger. Not as broken. Like a tiny piece of himself that he thought died long ago have returned.

Fulgrim fusses over the baby in his arms, inspecting them with the eyes of an art critic. And he can't look away. Splendid. Spectacular. Perfect. Fulgrim calls them his greatest creation, his masterpiece. He coos to them, promises of grandeur and greatness. Oh, he's got such plans! So much to teach them, to show them, he can't wait!

Weeks pass before Angron decides to hold his child for the first time. Most people assume that he doesn't want to be a father, that he doesn't care about his child. They are wrong. The truth is, Angron is afraid that the nails will drive him to hurt them. He holds them only briefly, just for a short moment, but he treasures that moment of peace, sears it into his memory like he'll die without it.

Magnus knew his child before they were born. The moment their little soul formed, the moment they developed brain capacity, he formed a mental link with them. For curiosity? Yes. But also because he could not wait to meet them. Now that he has them in his arms, it feels like he's meeting an old friend, someone he's known for a long, long time.

Perturabo stares at the child sleeping in his arms. He had refused to hold them directly after birth, seeing no point in it. But now he's holding them and for once, Perturabo doesn't know what to do. They are small, they are fragile, they are weak and most of all, they are USELESS. Yet he can't bring himself to hate them for it, no matter how much he wants to.

Alpharius is the first to hold one to hold the baby. He smiles down at them, already proud of them despite the fact that all they have done so far is be born. Omegon gets to hold them later, when Alpharius returns with the child back home. Omegon practically snatches the child from his brother's arms, impatient and unwilling to wait any longer.

Lorgar holds the baby high up in the air, above his head, like he's showing them off to the stars themselves. Actually, he's probably doing just that. His child is his blessing, his life work. Lorgar needs the world to see them and feel what he feels. He then holds them close, forehead pressed against them as he mutters soft prayers. There are tears in his eyes, with a few rolling down his face.

There are not enough words to describe the amount of warmth and love in Horus' smile as he gazes down upon the baby in his arms. This is his treasure, his legacy and heir but most importantly, the child he's always wanted. Horus promises them the world and more. He refuses to put them down or for anyone else to hold them for a good while.

It takes a while for Konrad to hold his child for the first time. He's so scared that he will hurt them, that his thirst for violence and terror will get the better of him. But once he gathers the courage, once he holds them in his arms, he doesn't want to ever let go. He cradles his child in his arms and promises to never hurt them, that he would rather die than let that happen. And he means it.

Sanguinius folds his wings around him and his baby, shielding both himself and his baby from view as he holds them close. He can't stop staring at them, eyes wet with unshed tears and a soft smile on his face as he whispers them promises for the future and proclamations of love and assurances. You are enough, you are strong, you are loved, you are perfect the way you are.

Corvus sits in silence, a sleeping infant in his arms. He can't help but stare, as if they will suddenly disappear if he looks away for even a second. It feels unreal, finally holding them after waiting for so long. He gently swipes a thumb across the side of their face. Corvus slowly curls up around them, as if to shield them from the world he knows won't wait to tear them down.

When Ferrus prepared for the arrival of the baby, he thought he had it all under control. But now, holding them in his arms for the first time, he's suddenly so aware of how lost he is. This is a real person. Not just a concept. And he's all they've got. They are his responsibility and his every action, every word, every lessons he teaches, will have consequences. They depend on him. And Ferrus fears that he won't ever be enough.

Rogal has never been the best at expressing his emotions. He's stoic, disciplined. Even now, with his newborn child in his arms, the corners of his mouth does little more than twitch. But his eyes? There's no denying the love and pride in them. Dorn rocks the child in his arms as he tells them that he will protect them, now and forever.

Oh, Vulkan just can't stop smiling. Cradles the baby in his arms with such tenderness, almost as if they are made from glass. Vulkan tells them he loves them, that they are his heart now. He means every word of it and he's never going to let his child forget how much he loves them. For the rest of their life, Vulkan's child will never go a single day doubting the fact that they are loved.

Lion thinks it isn't fair the way the infant doesn't even know how wrapped around their little finger he already is. He would kill for them. He would die for them. He knows this for sure, can feel the truth of that statement in his very bones. Is this what all parents feel as they gaze upon their progeny for the first time? Did the Emperor once feel this way when he gazed upon them? So many questions yet for once, Lion does not mind not knowing all the answers.

Pacing around the room with a newborn in his arms, Leman won't stop talking to them. His pup, his fierce little warrior, his proud and joy. His voice is warm and energetic, but not loud like how it usually is. It rumbles softly, soft for small ears. He bounces them in his arms as he walks, eyes sparkling and teeth bared in a genuine smile, as adoring as it is wild.

It's with eager arms that Jaghatai picks up his child. He's waited for them, waited for this very moment where he gets to meet them and hold them for the first time. Already, he knows that his child is strong, knows that they will grow up and achieve greatness. He heard it in the way they wailed upon being born, can see it in the way they flail their limbs around. Jaghatai is already so proud of them.

Roboute doesn't speak as he holds his child, the wheels in his mind spinning and churning as he gazes down upon them. Suddenly, there's so much to do. He thought himself prepared but he now realizes that those preparations were nowhere near enough. How could it ever be enough? He needs to create a bright future for them, create a safe galaxy for them to grow up in and explore. A safer world in the palm of their hands.

[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

ft. gn!reader x anton ivanov, ben bigger, lighter, von lycaon, wise ; no applicable warnings! my first request (i tried to finish it before christmas in my timezone, but still, merry christmas to the anon who requested this :DD) hehehhe i hope its good enough｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

anton ivanov

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me this man isn’t the type to yell “this is for you!” or “if i hit this you give me a kiss” and completely miss whatever target he’s supposed to hit. he hits it. sometimes. he still gets a kiss anyways.

[“dude” “we’re literally dating and you’ve placed your lips on mine do NOT call me dude.” “…babe”]

big on gift giving and words of affirmation in terms of love languages. he makes sure to put a lot of thought into whatever he gives to you to properly convey his appreciation and show just how much you mean to him.

"strong, sincere, and straightforward." he's definitely the type to encourage you to try new things especially when you're the type to get easily nervous. if you're scared of looking stupid, don't worry; he'll do it with you hand-in-hand so you can be stupid together. becomes your no. 1 hype man and would give you his honest opinions whenever you need ‘em.

you see or hear him talking to his jackhammer bro for the most mundane or random things and you've become used to it at this point. its honestly endearing (you're hopeless)

["bro do you think they'd still love me if i was a worm?" "vroom vroom vroom" “you think so?” “vroom” "yeah, you're right."]

ben bigger

scary bear privileges meaning no one wants to mess with you knowing that you're dating someone who cuts such an intimidating presence but you know better than them because ben would much rather use his paws to tap away at a calculator or spreadsheet than willingly get into fights.

on that note, he's most likely to be the best companion for grocery shopping; he'll know how to get all the good discounts and haggle for the best prices for sure.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 1. although he puts his fur care second, it's still soft and fuzzy to the touch and he likes that you appreciate the warmth it provides too.

since he struggles with some of his accounting responsibilities due to the size of his paws, sometimes you help him with sorting some of belobog industries' financial documents and eventually you end up finding the task quite relaxing after a while of doing it.

but, of course, he loves spending time with you outside of work. anything to take his mind off of the horrors of accounting. he'll mentally file away anything he learns about you when you're together for future purposes, may it be gift or date ideas.

he's the bear thiren between both of you, but in private he loves cuddling against you like you're some sort of plush toy. you don't mind. another win-win situation because you get to rest against him like a giant pillow as well.

lighter

he tries to be flirty with you and sometimes it works! but when you match his energy and it backfires on him he turns into a blushing mess who doesn’t know what to do with himself.

also the type to want to show off or act all suave. he has an image to keep as the undefeated champion! the red scarf! (he’s internally giggling and kicking his feet from one [1] cheek kiss you left in passing).

date nights with him sometimes consist of drives on his bike and stargazing at a nice little spot he found in blazewood. then halfway through, he’d get distracted from seeing the stars in your eyes and think that its a hundred times better than the real thing and fall in love all over again.

“gets as many challenges as love letters” but he makes sure that you and anyone who tries to make a move know that he only has eyes for you. could be in the form of having an arm around your waist or his jacket on you when you feel cold.

a physical touch and acts of service guy because. well. he did say he’d like to die for love one day. that’s a very romantic thing to say and do. also his heart still races whenever you hold his hand but he swears he’s getting used to it (he isn’t). probably melts when you gently run your fingers over his face or any of his scars

i honestly feel like he's one of those "me and my bae don't argue they just tell me to shut up and i do" types.

von lycaon

an ideal date for him would be a fancy dinner or picnic somewhere nice and discreet. complete with scented candles, your favorite flowers, and homecooked food (which probably tastes better than anything you've ever eaten at any restaurant). then at some point when both of you have finished eating and you're both in conversation, he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a kiss on your knuckles.

["darling, your face is...concerningly red. are you feeling alright?" "i'm fine. i think."]

you WILL be receiving that prince/princess treatment (threat). breakfast in bed when he isn’t busy, spontaneous massages offered when you mention ONCE that you feel tired, and all that jazz. you probably will never have to open another door yourself with him around and he ALWAYS offers his arm for you to take when you're walking together.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 2. just prepare yourself for horrendous shedding as summer begins… but you don’t mind helping him brush through his fur (*´ω`*) its therapeutic and you’re one of the very few people he trusts with the task so its a win for both of you.

since he's a wolf thiren, he sometimes unwillingly attracts the attention of stray cats and dogs; he usually pays them no mind but it is somewhat of an inconvenience for him. however, the sight of you playing with them while quietly cooing eases some of his discomfort. seems like you aren't the only one suffering from cuteness aggression.

his guilty pleasure is squishing your cheeks in his hands. no i will not elaborate

wise

this is one of the random play managers we’re talking about, so. movie date nights are mandatory. both of you alternate when picking movies but sometimes you bicker over options like an old married couple just for the fun of it.

a lot more chill when it comes to PDA but he can be flirty when he wants to be. if he knows you have a weak spot for it, he uses it to his advantage to get what he wants. scheming little minx. /pos

words of affirmation and quality time guy, i think. since he's always so busy with managing the store and completing commissions alongside belle as proxies, he makes the most out of the time you guys can spend together alone. even if it's just laying in his bed or on the couch doing nothing together sometimes.

everyone and their mothers and grandmothers on sixth street will probably know that you’re dating or figure something out at some point even when both of you don’t really do much together in public/are trying to keep it on the low. never underestimate these aunties man

unfortunately for wise, he will become the target of teasing or nagging from belle when it comes to your relationship. once you get close enough she'll also share embarrassing stories from when they were younger or before you and wise started dating much to her brother’s chagrin.

secretly likes clinging and cuddling up to you like a koala. both of you are in bed? oh okay, don’t mind him, he’ll just scooch a bit and wrap his arms and legs around you, claiming that having you in his bed helps fix his insomnia (it does, to some degree). [“wise i can’t move.” “you don’t need to.”]

on the days you help out with tasks in random play, you could quite literally just be standing while doing something and then you’ll feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist from behind as he leans his head on one of your shoulders with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

[dammit-tazmuir]

@grievingbovine I am always happy to gush about Paul ;w;

Also I feel like... I'm not sure if it's more "codependency isn't always bad" or "codependency is a term we've grown to use too liberally when what should actually be the defining factor isn't the behaviors involved but whether or not those are actually hurting the people involved" or something in between or adjacent to that. It also feels like there might be kinda two definitions people use interchangeably? One being the more medical term and the other a looser thing of like, deeply dependent on each other.

But semantics aside I know what you mean, and yeah.

It is, generally speaking, unhealthy to be SO dependent on a SPECIFIC person that you can't live without them. Cam and Pal post-explosion had a very unique situation, whereas for most cases in real life, it's better to at least like... need SOMEONE, a purpose, a cause, but also be capable of seeking a new one if you lose that, after time to process and grief. A Camilla whose whole life revolved around Palamedes but didn't get him back learning to live again for Nona, as a hypothetical, or Harrow who would not let herself survive alone but can live for God and for Gideon and for Alecto and for the memory of those lost to conceive her and who may find other purposes still. Ofc no one is arguing Harrow is healthy about that, but like, if you CAN'T find an internal sense of worth, a purely external one is still infinitely better and healthier than none!

It feels very silly but a straight up life-changing thing for me as someone who does the same shit was the anime Gurren Lagann throwing around the phrase, "believe in the me who believes in you." Over time it morphed into "believe in the you that I believe in", and ultimately into having genuinely self-assurance, but taking even one or two of those steps is like... YEAH? Yeah! You know? External validation can be so meaningful and powerful, and isn't antithetical to internal by any means. If you can find it in even a handful of different sources, even better. A thing I try to tell people a lot when it comes to mental health too is you don't have to Get Better to get BETTER. It's not "you're unhealthy and must be fixed" or "you're 100% healthy in all ways". Less unhealthy and more functional than you were is amazing and to be celebrated actually!!!

But at the same time?

Ya know, no, I agree, I DON'T think it's a bad thing to need to NOT be ALONE. I understand the importance of being capable of surviving alone, at least long enough to seek new connections. And living for a person or cause is always easier than dying for them ("you could have lived for her, but you didn't know how"...), especially if you're living for their memory after they're gone, but people should try to do it anyway! But to just..... want to be devoted to someone? To thrive on supporting or caring for other people???

That's not what I'd call "toxic codependency", that's humans being a social species. Hell, that's looking at stories and seeing how many supporting characters are vital to helping a hero succeed and deciding "that sounds awesome actually! Not everyone needs to be the hero, I would love to be a supporting character!" Especially when you're not losing sight of your own needs in the process.

Like... Sacrifice and martyr mentality can be horrible destructive things that do more harm than good, but sacrifice is also objectively a major way people show love. Parents doing without a little more to make sure their kids get something nice, someone doing a chore they don't like because they know their partner hates it more, etc. The difference between "my needs aren't important, I'm not important, I'll always prioritize others because I don't take care of myself in general" and "I have weighed the pros and cons and decided that I can handle this and wish to put someone else first in this situation" is not always apparent from the outside but it's an extremely important distinction. There's a difference between being needlessly reckless and hard on yourself versus making a decision to achieve an end you want even though it costs you something.

Cam trying to hide how rough carrying Pal was on her wasn't her being needlessly reckless, it was her being a stubborn bitch who knows she's tough as hell. If anything people have more grounds to criticize her going against Pal's interests and wishes by not giving him information he needed to make properly informed decisions! To think that he was in any way taking advantage of her when she'd have found a way to kick his ass if he'd tried to force her to stop is wild lmao. (Not to mention Pal literally killing himself— he was still Around but objectively dead all the same!— in the "dying for someone is the cruelest thing you could do to them" book. Like he ain't making big sacrifices fueled by his love for and trust in her too smh.)

And honestly? Yeah that does sound like the kind of thing that could save the world. Our world would be a better place with less people striving to be main characters and more people eager to support each other. More people should be saying "No you will let me help you, you son of a bitch. Don't you dare tell me it's Too Much." >:( So many people are afraid of Being A Burden but more people need to understand— from the perspective of the person with that fear and as friends wishing to help someone who has that fear— that only the person offering help can decide what is A Burden to them! It's not the other person's decision to make!

Palamades didn't have a right to tell Camilla not to push herself to keep him around when that was her choice, and anyone fearing their loved ones sacrifice too much for them don't have a right to tell them to love them less, either. Sometimes— often, really— the alternative is worse. And part of me has to wonder if some people are averse to acknowledging that because if they did, then they'd have to acknowledge that letting someone else help you can be actively beneficial to them, and constantly refusing to ask for or accept help is in turn actively depriving them of something that would help them too. <.< Too bad everyone, gotta let people love you.

Locked tomb hot takes:

Insisting that the birth of Paul is only a tragedy because of the uneven power dynamics between Palamedes and Camilla as Necro and Cav invalidates Camillas autonomy and undermines her as a character capable of making her own decisions. It also undermines Palamedes constantly checking for consent. He understands more than most that there is an uneven power dynamic and actively works to respect her autonomy as much as he can while also respecting their bond/positions as necro and cav.

In a world where those who identify as men have no natural power over those who identify as women or neither, we can not apply the same cisheteronormative expectations of male behavior to male characters.

Camilla made every. Single. Choice. Willingly. She had reasons for it, and Palamedes respected that more than readers seem to. We get plenty of examples.

"What would you do if you discovered Camilla was a murderer?”

“Help her bury the body,” said Palamedes promptly.

“Sextus.”

“I mean it. If Camilla wants someone dead,” he said, “then far be it from me to stand in her way. All I can do at that point is watch the bloodshed and look for a mop. One flesh, one end, and all that.”

GtN chapter 30

NtN chapter 17

The relationship between these two may be codependent, but it's predicated on trust and consent. The whole way through. This is the life Cam wants to live. Becoming Paul was what *she wanted*.

I find it strange that some people think they know what's best for her more than she does, just because she's a cavalier.

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part three

a/n i've been following the halloween event pretty closely for the jp servers, and omg, i have fallen deeper in love with leona! he's just so gentlemanly and honestly, the type of guy you would totally bring home to meet ur parents! plus he looks so damn good! also scully such a cutie patootie! love his little mannerisms and design! i was a little sad that ace and deuce wasn't in, but that just means that they'll both be there for the next halloween event!

edit: so this was meant to be posted like a long time ago hence my og author note, but better late the. never ig. but my point still stands that skully is a little cutie patootie <3

included ignihyde, diasomnia + rollo

tw nothing

want more? here's part one + two

ignihyde <3

⋆ He can’t help it! But the first thing that escape Idia's mouth is ‘Is this poison?’ He can't help it! He’s just a little awkward and has low self-esteem! Idia can’t phantom the idea that anyone, especially you, would take time out of their day to make and bring little, ugly him, food. (his words not mine) It’s literally a ten minute conversation where you have to explain to him that you wanted to this because you care about his skinny ass. And after he gets that through his thick ass head and into his big ass brain, does he explode into hot, hot red. Despite being a literal genius, Idia’s social department (self-esteem? self-love?) is severely understaffed. I don’t think Idia’s all that picky when it comes to food, he’s just not used to eating food out of his comfort zone. But batting your pretty eyes and asking ‘pretty please?’ is enough to get him to bend over.

⋆ If he could eat, Ortho would adore your food! (real talk, i can’t remember if Ortho could canonically eat through like idk a food cavity space thing or if i had just read that from a fic) Would ask for all types of things. But since he can’t, Ortho enjoys your food through Idia. He’s really happy that someone would take the time out of their day just for his big brother. By his data, doesn’t that mean you like his big bro? In all sorts of media, romantic partners make each other food to show their love! If Idia wasn’t such a danger magnetic in the kitchen, Ortho would force Idia to make you food too! So you’ll just have to settle with Ortho as your little helper instead. (he’s so excited to spend one on one time with his future in-law! teehee)

Diasomnia <3

⋆ My, make him food? How courageous you are, little human. Malleus gobbles your food down like it's his last supper. Food created by his child of man? How could he possibly let it go to waste! Compliments you to the moon and back. Though because it is Malleus, he does slip a few critiques. (he can’t help it! He’s a prince afterall) Malleus has never had an edible homemade dish full of love given to him, like ever. (sorry lilia, your food is full of love, just not edible) A warm feeling blossoms all across his body like blooming roses. If his tail was out, it would be swaying to the beat of his racing heart. Malleus didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but here you go, always surprising him. Perhaps, you’ll find a meal on your desk one day by the initials M.D.

⋆ Ohohoho? So you want to challenge a culinary master! Lilia will not be beaten by such a cute little human! You better start running tehehehehe- On another less scary note, Lilia enjoys your food immensely! Of course he could think of a few ways to make it much more protein packed and nutritious but that’s just his inner master chef coming out teehee. Beware, he insists that you must try his cooking, it’s only fair of him to treat you to a meal. Or even worse, insist that you too must cook together. Pray to the seven (or hope that Silver will be conscious enough to drag his father outta there) because you’re going to need it.

⋆ Wonderful… is the only word Silver is able to get out before he falls asleep. When he wakes, Silver is awfully embarrassed. Silver is blown away at your kindness. His face a perment baby pink the rest of the day. You thought of him and no one else. Surely this must mean something right? Still, Silver must do something for you too. It’s only fair. (what a sweet gentleman) he considers making you a treat as well, but considers otherwise. It might be unwise to be in the kitchen with his condition. But of course, it’s not like Silver won’t have any help! All the woodland creatures are more than happy to help Silver win over his crush’s heart! The next day you’ll have his treat flown to you by a couple of blue birds, chipmunks and rabbits gathering at your door with berries of all sorts. Silver thankful for such generous companions. If he had to face you, he might just fall into a coma.

⋆ He can’t help it when he says, “Are you trying to poison me?!’ and ‘Don’t you dare poison my Waka-Sama! I will fight you, human!” Sebek’s like a dog, barking and barking, until he smells the delicious scent of your food and suddenly, he’s stubbornly eating it at the table. Cursing himself for being so weak to delicious food (and your pretty smile) Oh how could he properly serve his Waka-sama if he’s weakened by such things?! THE CRUELTY! He does really enjoy your food. Typically he’s often left unsatisfied, his stomach growling with lingering hunger after his meals. But for some odd reason, every time he’s chowing down on your food, he’s satisfied. His stomach is silent but his chest is warm and fuzzy like dandelions. Are you sure you don’t have any magic? Sebek decides to keep his curiosity to himself. Just like the rest of diasomnia, you’ll find yourself faced with a box filled to the brim with food courtesy of the blushing, stuttering fae in front of you.

Extra <3

⋆ Very rarely does Rollo find time to sit down and eat. Between his studies, his duties as student president and world domination (kidding), he is much too busy to have anything more than a piece of bread and glass of water. You’ll have to drag him to sit his ass down to eat and even then he’ll be scolding you for messing up his schedule. But when the warm and homey scent of your food reaches his nose, his voice falls and mind clears. And all of a sudden, he’s very much aware of the ache in his bones, the growling of his stomach and the tight ringing of his head. Rollo listens to you tell him you made this just for him, heaviness hits his chest at the concern lacing your voice. Any other time he’d scoff and leave, but this is you. His friend. He doesn’t hesitate. The moment your food touches his tongue he’s done for. Perhaps the hassle of life is worth it.

[honeytonedhottie]

decentering men and recentering urself⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💅🏽💓

the secret to decentering men and not having ur entire world revolving around them (bcuz it should be revolving around you, duh) is having a fulfilling life. it makes me ICK so bad when im watching a video or reading a post and im rly loving it, and then it'll find SOME way to make it revolve around men. like can we not?…💬🎀

WHY WE CENTER THE OPPOSITE SEX ;

a lot of people find themselves centering their lives around the opposite sex in an attempt to fill a void within themselves. they do it because they aren't happy with themselves or their lives, or maybe its learned behavior. whatever the reason is, its NOT hot.

some things that someone who centers men might think are "oh my life is so boring, maybe it would be spiced up if i got with a man" or "maybe it'll bring some excitement into my day" like EUGHHH. obviously the solution is to find ways to make our lives fulfilling but how do we do that? and how do we get to the root cause and squash this self sabotaging behavior?

SELF AWARENESS ;

if u have nothing going on for u, ofc ur gonna be energetically desperate and accepting anything and EVERYTHING. practice self awareness and try to get to the root cause of why u center men through things like shadow work, therapy, or just straight up having an honest conversation with urself cuz i swear it helps.

when you make the conscious effort to build ur dream life you'll notice that people that are on the same mindset as you will vibe with the REAL you. the need to fake/adjust urself to fit in with other people will dissipate because ur fitting into ur own standards and ur connections will be more meaningful because of it.

TAKE UR POWER BACK ;

no ones actions should ruin ur day or make u upset for more then a day (even less) cuz its YOUR world. 💕🍰

make time for YOU, doll. plan self care routines for urself every week. doing face masks, journalling, vision boarding, WHATEVER U LIKE TO DO. making time for urself reminds u that ur the main character of ur life so u dont have to settle for crumbs.

stop giving that power to someone else and dictate how u feel, NOT the actions of a significant other or the opposite sex or anybody. the reason why its important to make sure that ur the center of ur own life is so that you can be happy and fulfilled regardless of if there is a man or if there isnt a man present. so the objective is to decenter men -> and then put yourself at the center

GET A HOBBY ;

find something to make ur life fulfilling. pursue ur OWN interests and try out different hobbies if ur unsure of what ur interests are yet. cultivate ur world to the point where it GLEAMS with perfection and then do a little extra. build a life that u love so much that whether u get male attention or validation doesnt even matter cuz their opinions have little to no relevance 💀

challenge yourself: next time you catch yourself thinking, ‘would a guy like this?’ flip it and ask urself "hey, do i like this?" start checking with yourself first instead of checking with others.

MAKING THE DECISION TO DECENTER MEN ;

decentering men simply means that ur deciding to no longer think, feel, act, dress, or plan ur life around a man or for the validation of any man…💬🎀

relationships will actually get BETTER when u decenter the opposite sex. cuz ur not looking for someone to compete with and ur whole on ur own. this sets the stage for balance and mutual respect and THATS hot.

you can be in a relationship and still decenter men. decentering men simply means that you are the priority, not the relationship. how can we tell if we're decentering men or not? here are a few questions to help you know if u are ->

if i did not care about looking good to the opposite sex what would i actually like to wear?

if i did not get married, how could i create the best and most abundant life for myself?

what hobbies/interests do i have that dont involve being around men/have male attention as a component of it?

[fallbhind]

my girl dick is hard rn btw thanks to perv!classmate!rafe <3 “he was getting harder every time he heard your chuckles.  and god,when you wrapped that pen between your glossy lips, he just wanted to force his fat dick against the gap of your mouth, watching you struggle to take him with those pretty eyes of yours rolling in the back until he’s crying and his tip leaking on your favorite lipstick.” if i could read this everyday all day I’d constantly stay hard. need someone to get hard listening to my chuckle &&. everything in between.

“you probably didn't know it, and it was one of his many dirty secrets, but he had a sex doll in his room that looked exactly like you and that he fucked every time he came home. he was a premature ejaculator but above all compulsive. you could be sure that this doll was fucked ten times in a row until he was out of breath, sweaty and stinking, until his hair and sheets were drenched in sweat and juices with his muscles drained and body shaking under painfully spasms.” this was so incredibly detailed in my opinion, so at least we know exactly what he does in his room as well as what it smells like.

“‘god, you're pathetic.’ you muttered before sitting next to him.  ‘did you pee your pants ? you've got a stain.’ you whispered in his ear. ‘i know what you are, cameron.’ but you were in a good mood today, so you wrote on a paper.  — meet me in the girls' bathroom upstairs. (I know how much you love this place. I'm even sure you have lots of photos of me in the cabins.)” god that’s hot mean!popular!reader is hot w pervclassmate rafe holy shadooks.

“as soon as you touched it, his stomach clenched. you were so kind to do that for him. you only thought of yourself. your fingers moved speed around his shaft while his balls slapped against his muscular thighs in motion. he was hard since this morning, so it was hurting him so bad, to the point he was terribly miserable and unsteady, just waiting for your touch since he watched you this morning in the hallways.” god nemyesyaaa ur starting to make me feel like this his something personal 😞. my girl dick got harder, making my stomach clench at the perfect description of dried cum.

“

“‘good boy, aren’t you rafe?’ you replied while gently slapping his heated cheek, before squeezing both of them between your fingers.  ‘you definitely are.’ you said, watching his face blushing under your touch. ‘y-y-es…’ ‘so you will do anything for me…?’ you asked with a smile on your lips. he nodded again. anything you wanted. absolutely anything. ‘fine…i'm gonna give you what you want.’ ‘what do you mean?’ ‘that i'm gonna use you until i'm tired of you. it's my turn to have fun. but it will stay a secret between us of course. this is my number, and i better find you all submissive when i call you.” mean!popular!reader is such a girl boss helping out perv!classmate!rafe fulfill his sexiest nightmare.

ain't nobody business // classmate!rafe cameron x mean!popular! reader

summary ; your classmate was too obssessed with you...but you were also too cool to care about him....only at first....

warnings ; 18+ smut plot. verbal violence. oral(f&m receiving). public masturbation. sub!rafe (simp obssessed and loser). nosebleeding so kind of blood. spitting. pervy behavior/needy depraved attitude. light praising. weird obssession. minors dni. be aware of the warnings before reading please.

author's note : none.

pervy classemate!rafe who's always been your biggest simp. not only had he always been a simp when it came to you, but he was totally sick and completely depraved. he was the very definition of the word pervert in its most terrible sense. he never missed a single class where you were present because he was completely obsessed with the idea of being close to you, of sharing the same space as you. he loved to hum the air you breathed because your scent was the one that intoxicated him. he was constantly at the back of the class and you were only a few feet away. he was a pathetic gooner who knew he had no chance with popular chicks  like you. your standards were — too fucking high.  you were the kook princess,  too classy, too hot, too perfect, the mean girl out of his league.

 then, he was never presentable. 

you didn't necessarily notice it because you liked to ignore the existence of your fan. but he was constantly looking at you, his blue eyes glued to every one of your moves. he was like a stalker, watching you from afar in the hallways as you walked through the crowd with your group of friends. you were the prettiest of them all, your hair was always clean and neat, your face soft and made up, your lips covered in gloss and your mouth chewing a bubblegum. you always wore skimpy outfits because it was always horribly hot even inside the school. 

he was desperately waiting for you to burst into his line of vision, his hand already stuck in his pants. his locker wasn't far from yours. there were photos of you and accessories belonging to you inside. everything you thought you throw away, he would get it back. he had a huge collection about it.

he was too freaking weird and lame — kind of the pervy freak your girlfriends make fun of it.  the kind of losers that upset you and made you roll your eyes when he was staring or talking to you. the kind of idiots that was always in your fucking way instead of getting lost somewhere you didn't care. 

but despite your mean and cold attitude toward him, rafe was always so eager to see you. 

out of the pathetic man he was, rafe cameron was big. even when his dick was limp in his boxer, a fat bulge was outlining the fabric of his underwear. when you were in the same room as him, he always felt the need to palm himself, literally stroking his aching cock through his pants as you took a seat. it was crazy because your back was only shown to him but his dick was already growing in his grip, the veins of his length bulging thick against his touch. 

he was getting harder every time he heard your chuckles.  and god,when you wrapped that pen between your glossy lips, he just wanted to force his fat dick against the gap of your mouth, watching you struggle to take him with those pretty eyes of yours rolling in the back until he’s crying and his tip leaking on your favorite lipstick. the way you swirl your tongue around the hood, leaving a trickle of drool webbing from your lips to the pen while you pretended to think, sweet moans escaping your lips as you fixed your mini skirt was too much for him. 

you were such a bitch. 

you probably didn't know it, and it was one of his many dirty secrets, but he had a sex doll in his room that looked exactly like you and that he fucked every time he came home. he was a premature ejaculator but above all compulsive. you could be sure that this doll was fucked ten times in a row until he was out of breath, sweaty and stinking, until his hair and sheets were drenched in sweat and juices with his muscles drained and body shaking under painfully spasms. when he had to jerk off, he didn't need to go to pornsites, he just needed to open your insta page. and it was even better when you posted stories because you were always half naked in them. he masturbated until his screen was covered in hot and thick spurts, his liquid hiding your face.

he was such a dreamer and you were such a fantasy. 

one time, you were in physics class in this lab-like class and you were across from him. he spent the whole time looking at your cleavage. his eyes were deep down on your boobs.  but he was also suffered from  a  painful boner that you were aware about, but was ironically under your control.  

“ want a picture of them, cameron ? ” you said with exasperation. “ because you're never gonna touch them. never in your life so stop watching. ” 

he knew it. losers like him didn't stand a chance with girls like you and that was what made him even hornier. 

sick.

the slightest contact with you was enough to ignite him. and telling him that he had no chance of touching you or going out with you made his cock bigger. 

" god, you're pathetic. ” you muttered before sitting next to him.  “did you pee your pants ? you've got a stain. ” you whispered in his ear. “ i know what you are, cameron.” 

but you were in a good mood today, so you wrote on a paper. 

— meet me in the girls' bathroom upstairs. (I know how much you love this place. I'm even sure you have lots of photos of me in the cabins.)

you kissed him on the cheek. as you were looking down on him, he just gasped while swallowing hard as you were laughing out loud with your girlfriends.

you were waiting for him  in the bathroom after class. it didn't take long for him to arrive. you had locked both of you in a cabin. he barely had time to open his mouth when you were already pulling down his pants to give him a blowjob. 

his boxer was wet and covered with dried cum. it was so gross and god so disgusting. you couldn't believe yourself that you were about to do this.

“are yo..." 

“Be quiet, Cameron. or i might kill you. ”

“ Please, you turn me on. ” he pleaded with a hard breath. 

his dick was fat and hard, literally twitching under your touch as you tried to not think too much. he was already whimpering like a crybaby when you hadn't even touched him yet.

he was in heaven. you were like a goddess for him. 

“ You really don't deserve me. and not even what i'm going to do to you. So you better not  screw that moment because it's gonna be the  first and last time a girl gonna ever touch you in your shitty life. ” 

as soon as you touched it, his stomach clenched. you were so kind to do that for him. you only thought of yourself. your fingers moved speed around his shaft while his balls slapped against his muscular thighs in motion. he was hard since this morning, so it was hurting him so bad, to the point he was terribly miserable and unsteady, just waiting for your touch since he watched you this morning in the hallways. 

he was shaky and breathy, drooling and moaning like a slut. and it was also ironic too because you were supposed to be the whore in general. but rafe cameron was one of the biggest bitch you ever seen. 

he was a kook but he was so shitty. 

“ i said be quiet. ” you ordered with a firm voice, tired of his whines. “ since you struggle to listen to me, i'm gonna put this in your mouth. better hold it tight with your teeth because if i hear another sound from you, i gonna take those high heels that you love to see me with and step on your dick with it. understand ? yea, i can give you real reasons to be noisy.  " 

you took off your underwear to stuff it in his mouth. you had hooked it tightly enough behind his head to keep him from dropping it. 

when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, you felt him shudder as you began to suck him gently. you moved your mouth as far as possible until you felt his girth at the back of your throat.  you had pushed your mouth to take all his inches, making in it fit between your lips. you were now full stuffed with his cock that was throatfucking you senseless. 

you were licking and sucking, giving him the blowjob of his life. he started to foaming at the mouth over your panties, his drool dripping from his chin to the raging dick that filled you. 

you were literally taking the saliva he was raining over you, giving no shit at this point.  when he began to move his hips, guiding the pace while fucking your throat, and you let him do as he was driving himself between your lips. a hand was tangled in your hair, getting them messy. your tongue was so soft, the sweetest he ever felt.

his lower tummy was twitching, abs flexing deep to the feeling you gave him. a sloppy head  that made him cum so fast, coating your lips with a splash of sperm, as he held the back of your neck, forcing you to gag over the fat length. you were still hot, but messy. your vision was blurred and your face was covered with his drop of white loads, and streams of saliva. mascara was dripping from your eyes, your lipstick was smudging on your cheeks and his cock, your mouth was damping with drool and small bubbles connected to his sticky soaked tip.

you sucked him again and he came five minutes later inside your throat. after that, he had stuck two fingers down your mouth. it was as if the roles had reversed for a moment because you were now his whore. 

he had started to thrust in and out, free-using your cavity while you took his fingers deep in your mouth. they were big and wet, making you gurgle terribly. his digits felt even more thicker inside you. he was brushing them against your tongue, forcing you to take them and lick them until they were nice and clean.

 

when he was satisfied, you had collected your panties, getting ready to leave. “please, die now. it's so embarrassing for me. ” you looked down and your eyes widened. “i don't mean that to see you being even bigger, cameron. you're such a trash. ”

“ please, can i touch you ? ” he was whimpering to your ears. 

“ think you deserve it ? ” you answered. “ because no, you can't. ”

he was under you, his grip so weak around your naked thigh, while he was pleading under his breath.  

he was staring at you with desperate eyes  that you agreed. “ but you're not gonna touch me. you're gonna watch only. you understand ? ”

he nodded, before getting on his knees. you took a seat in the cabin, and spread your legs, skirt on your knuckles. his hand was already on his cock, the tip leaking on the floor, as you opened your thighs wider to watch him losing his mind fully on the sight of your gleaming pussy. 

you hate yourself for being so soaked that wetness was running down your skin. rafe was now jerking himself off, his heavy and shaky breathing escaping his lips. you had brought fingers against your pussy after having moistened them then you had started to play with your lower lips with your hand before starting to caress yourself. your legs were feverish because you had already shoved three fingers inside  you. 

rafe was obsessed. you managed to drive him crazy, to dehumanize him. he had lost control when you added another finger, making it seem like you could fit the whole hand. you were so naughty, but your moans were so sweet. then the way you squirmed as you fingered yourself made him sick and perverted. “ easy pretty, you can't cum before me. ” 

but he couldn't take it anymore, he had soaked his hands from touching himself so much while he watched you fucked yourself with your fingers. “ c-can…i cum..please…” he was breathless, mouth running like a pup, eyes filled with tears as his hands were trembling over his throbbing dick. “ n-need…it…! ”

“ it's all you got, baby ? i'm disappointed. looks like someone doesn't really want to cum…” you teased, still playing with your insides. 

he knew he was stupid but you made him even dumber. when it came to you, he had nothing in his head, no self-esteem, no dignity. your fingers worked hard in your insides. the wet sounds of your digits going back and forth in your plushy canal as he was stroking himself harder. his fingers were in rhythm with yours, matching the way they were moving in your pussy. 

you were like a movie star. a fucking porn star. the one he's dreamed about in the dark of his room.

your cunt was clenching over your fingers, sliding in and out of the wetness that came from your walls. but you continued to push them deeper and deeper to bring you close. you feel your hips lifted up, your legs trembling and you find yourself on your tiptoes as you reach your digits further in your swollen cunt. rafe couldn't help himself, and moved from your place to lick at your pussy when your fingers were still inside you. he was eating you out at , tongue sticking at your drooling slit that he was lapping while golden stars were taking you away from reality. he was so needy, the way his voice was breaking into your pretty cunt. he spreaded your folds way with his tongue, lapping through the needy hole before starting to make sloppy licks. you could feel his heavy nose rubbing against your clit, stroking it gently as he was lapping and stretching your canal. 

you had to admit, he was good and if you didn't have so much ego you would let him know. but instead, you let him continue, the weight of his tongue shoving inside you, forcing you to squirm as he tickled your sensitive bud with his face. he was thrusting in and out, letting you leak your juices on his chin.

he was so deep in the thing, twirling his tongue to feel all your insides, driving his mouth so deep that he could not miss the spot, hanging his jaw open to let your wetness drip down his chin. 

he was about to pass out, living the dream of his life with you. the way your pulsing clit was rushing into his fat nose making him nuzzle stronger , slow back and forth to messy rubs. all your pussy was now so tough on him, stroking him harder, forcing him to gasp and wimps. you didn't make it stop because you were too selfish to care about what he felt. 

his mouth was working on your slit, as your clit was still evilly running the sensitive spot of his nose, getting it all wet and red until you heard a small crack from the pressure. his nose was now bleeding but that didn't stop him from pleasuring you. he was still eating at your cunt, metallic taste added to the sweet of your hole. after a wild minute, his entire face was coated with blood and seeds as he cried harder, his hands tugging the skin of your hips. 

his nose was bleeding against your bud, as a line of the red liquid was trailing over the opening of your cunt making a way to his driving tongue. he was buried inside your whole sucking you to depth with blood foaming under his teeth — so close to bleed into your folds. 

when you exploded, his tongue still fucking you, he had been so quick to swallow it all.

“ it's not gonna happen twice…” you muttered, still a little dizzy.  “And if you tell anyone, I’ll find you and kill you. And please, take a fucking shower,  Cameron. ”

“ It's Rafe. ” 

“ I know your name. I just don't care about it. ” you replied with a sigh. “ Now, i'm leaving. Stop, gooning yourself. It's so gross. ”

You began to walk away but you wanted to add something more. 

“ Did you understand ? Nod your head…”

You smiled when he obeyed. 

“Good boy, aren’t you Rafe ? ” you replied while gently slapping his heated cheek, before squeezing both of them between your fingers.  “ You definitely are.” you said, watching his face blushing under your touch. 

“ Y-y-es…” 

“ So you will do anything for me…? ” You asked with a smile on your lips. 

He nodded again.

 Anything you wanted. Absolutely anything. 

“ Fine…i'm gonna give you what you want. ”

“ What do you mean ? ”

“ That i'm gonna use you until i'm tired of you. It's my turn to have fun. But it will stay a secret between us of course. This is my number, and i better find you all submissive when i call you. ” 

[pitchsidestories]

A love like in the Christmas movies II Lea Schüller x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1133

summary: Lea and Reader do a cozy Christmas movie marathon together. requested

author's note: Dear readers, have you spot the easter eggs from met someone ? Nonetheless, enjoy the fanfic. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Everything was set for a great Christmas movies evening, the overhead lights were out, instead fairy lights and candles turned everything into a warm glow including your girlfriend’s and your face. It was perfect until a phone call interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

“Wait, I’ll just take the call and then I’ll make us two cups of hot chocolates.”, Lea promised.

With an innocent smile on your lips, you asked her: “Okay. With marshmallows too?”,

 “Of course.”, she loved warmly.

“Thank you.”, you mouthed still smiling as the blonde answered the phone call.

The Bayern Munich player didn’t expect to hear her friend this evening, the brunette was on the mission to find love in a queer bar which Georgia recommended. From the disappointment in Lena’s voice she could tell that it wasn’t going according to plan.

While the minutes’ passed by Lea was looking longingly at you cozying up in her sweater on the sofa, oh, what the forward would do to be back in your arms to watch a few Christmas movies sipping some hot beverage.

“Tomorrow at my place? I’ll cook a lot of hot chocolate and then we’ll watch a stupid romcom?”, the blonde offered her best friend.

“Didn’t you do that today already.”, the midfielder returned the question in a teasingly tone turning the older players cheek soft pink.

Touché, Lena knew her teammate all too well. Even though the younger woman mocked her lovingly, she agreed to come the next evening to do exactly what the striker suggested.

“Was that Lena?”, you asked your girlfriend curiously once the blonde ended the phone call.

“Yes, Lena’s not coming, the finding love in a bar sadly didn’t work out for her, but that means more space for us on the sofa. Do you want some Lebkuchen along side the hot chocolate.”, Lea nodded.

“Homemade or shop bought?”, you questioned.

“Sorry, I’m a very busy person just like yourself, so it’s not baked by me.”, your girlfriend chuckled, putting some gingerbread biscuits on a festive plate as the blonde waited for the drinks to be ready.

“That’s okay. I don’t trust your baking skills yet anyway.”, you teased smirking referring to the first time you properly met each other.

“Oh my god, it’s hard to cook while being filmed by such a gorgeous woman behind the camera, okay?”, she protested, her cheeks turning into an even deeper pink which you thought looked adorable on her.

 “Oh, yeah sure.”, you replied and laughed nervously. Receiving compliments wasn't exactly one of your strengths. Although you knew that the striker meant every sweet word that crossed her lips.

To show that she was serious about it, she gave you an encouraging smile as she finally handed you a Christmas mug. “Trust me.“

“At least your hot chocolate is good.“, you subtly changed the topic after you took a sip from the hot chocolate, careful not to burn your mouth.

“It is, right? Have you chosen a Christmas movie yet?”, Leah asked while sitting back down on the sofa.

“I have. I hope you like it too.“, you nodded and pressed play.

You were not surprised that she recognised the movie within the first few minutes.

“Happiest season?”

“Yes?”, you confirmed, uncertain if she even liked the movie.

Lea tilted her head as if she was considering your choice for a moment. “I mean sure. Even though Audrey Plaza and Kristen Stewart should have ended up together, so if they ever do a part two and you direct it, it needs to be about them getting together.“

You tried hard not to laugh as you reminded her: “Lea, I do sports documentaries.“

“Just saying.“, she shrugged.

“Okay, I will tell my agent that she should keep an eye out for that.“, you joked.

Lea nodded with a grin: “She better should. I know you would do a better job.“

“You think so?”, you laughed.

“Yes.“

But you could tell that Leas thoughts were somewhere else all of a sudden. She had been staring at the plate of chocolate covered gingerbreads without saying anything else until you realized what was going on.

“Are you calculating how many Lebkuchen each of us get? You’re such a math nerd.“

The striker looked back up at you, her mouth opened in a little offended O. “What do you mean math nerd? Who wouldn’t? I just want to share them fairly.“

“You know what I meant.“, you continued to tease her with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, she agreed: “Yeah, I do.“

“See.“

You only spend a few minutes watching the movie in silence until Lea asked: “What would happen in a Christmas movie you made?”

You tore your eyes away from the screen, taking a moment to think about that question while Lea watched you curiously.

“Easy. I’d let protagonist A and protagonist B meet three Christmases in a row. The first time A is in a relationship while B is single, the next Christmas it would be the other way around and then on the third Christmas they would finally get together.”, you explained.

Leas eyes narrowed: “Wait, this is our story.”

“Says who?”, you asked innocently.

“So I’m person A.”, Lea concluded.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Fiction doesn’t work like that, meine Liebe.”, you shrugged. The truth was that it was in fact about the two of you. Two years ago, you had been working on a short documentary about Leas career and immediately found that you liked her but she was in a relationship.

You kept in touch and a year later you accidentally ran into each other again right before Christmas but at that point you were dating someone who you thought could be the right person. Until Lea. And now you were sitting in her living room as girlfriends and discussing if your story would make a good plot for a Christmas movie.

“Yes, it does!”, Lea protested.

“If you say so. You can choose the next Christmas movie.“, you said while pointing towards the TV where the credits flickered across the screen already.

“Okay, fine.“, the football player agreed but instead of taking the remote, she just studied you.

“What? Or… do you want to do something else?”

“I mean I have a few suggestions.“ Her blue eyes lit up as she flashed you an innocent smile.

“Which ones?”

You watched Lea bite her lip in response, a flash of impatience on her face as she got up from the sofa. She gently pulled you up with her and winked: “Let’s go.“

You made your way to the bedroom. The lights on her Christmas tree were still on and the hot chocolate mugs stood forgotten on the coffee table. It didn’t matter. You both waited too long to finally spend this Christmas together.

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

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[luneemeritus]

"pilot Stolas was better!!" no, he wasn't.

"bring pilot Stolas back!!" no ❤️

You want an evil, manipulative, abusive villain with little to no redeeming qualities that is a Goetia and has cool powers? We have two of them: Stella and Andrealphus. If it's only about the 'asthetic', a character doesnt have to be evil to be cool, Stolas's demon form and powerful moments are already amazing, and although he's powerless now, I'm pretty sure he will get his status back at least for a while to make a badass scene.

What the Hellaverse doesnt lack is amazing villains. If critics were so much better and creative than Vivziepop, they wouldn't turn a complex, well written, well designed and well acted character like Stolas into a boring Valentino 2.0 just because the pilot version seemed creepier. Lmao Stella is literally what all of Stolas's haters claim to want, look how well they're handling her. Seriously I've seen people saying that Stella needs a sympathetic reason to be a fucking abuser, but when Stolas (not an abuser) has sympathetic reasons to be who he is and do what he does, it's suddenly not okay.

Stolas is the only character I've ever seen who: sacrifice his life to his lover, and is still called "selfish" and "not enough for Blitz"; is seeing being abused by his wife since EP2-Season 1, even singing about how his life with her was miserable yet he remained strong for his daughter, and people will still claim that Stella turned out to be abusive "out of nowhere"; is forced to marry someone he doesn't love, is abused by said person, spent years alone and enduring that misery, and when he finally chooses to stay with the one person that never abused him, he is an "evil cheater"; sacrifices his own safety and happiness to make his daughter safe and happy, and ALWAYS — always — take accountability when he fails her (or when she thinks he failed her) as any good parent would do, and still be called a bad father (addition: forced to have said child but loves her anyway🤡). Just say yall alergic to character development.

I lost the Tiktok now because I blocked OP, but the big argument about "how much pilot Stolas is better" is a lie basically: canon Stolas, (abuse survivor, has the best development of the show alongside with Blitz, a loving father who remained strong for his daughter), is a "loser" (also a twink in a derogatory way, which is funny like, just say the f slur, we know that's what you mean🤡 specially calling a male abuse survivor "coward" and "loser" lmao like we know), while the pilot Stolas is a "manipulative, inteligent, cold villain" uuuuh no he wasn't lol hate to tell you dude, Pilot Stolas wasnt an evil interesting genius that was sooo intimidating, nah he was just creepy and honestly as funny as the canon one. Yeah you just hate the gay owl being well written. Pilot Stolas has 2 minutes screen. Canon Stolas has two seasons of development, he is the better one, I'm pretty sure people who say this don't even remember half of the pilot.

So it's not really about Stolas's actions, or mistakes, or him being a good or a bad person (he is a good person). He could be the most perfect, excellent, flawless victim, the 'wokest' most self aware pure angel, it's still not enough. Because it's not about him, it's about a version of him that never came to be but haters love to whine about it.

[hyperlexichypatia]

It's not just about the word "sentient" -- most speculative fiction reads like it's written by someone who's never heard of animals, and once I notice this, I can never unnotice it.

So many fictional stories center on "What if there were these beings who were different from humans? Like aliens, or elves, or talking rabbits who wear clothes?" And yeah! I love stories like that!

But there are also literally millions of non-human species right here on Earth!

We just don't understand them. We want to think about "What if there were a species of life forms that weren't humans?" but we're so locked into our cholesterol-based human brains that we can't really imagine being one of these other species. So we either imagine other species in an anthropomorphic way ("What if a fox wore clothes and had a job and spoke English?") or imagine a completely fictional type of life form ("What if there were beings that were like humans, but they could live for hundreds of years or more, or they could read minds, or they could teleport, or?") and I, once again I must reiterate, I love stories like that.

But the appeal of these stories is that it's easier for us, as humans, to imagine and empathize with a robot, or an alien, or a mermaid, with human-like thought processes, than it is for us to imagine or empathize with an octopus, or a canary, or a beetle. Let alone a tree, or a lichen, or a mushroom. I find it so disappointing when a story featuring nonhuman beings just reifies the human/animal binary by reframing it as "higher creatures/lower creatures" or "sentient/non-sentient" or "intelligent/non-intelligent."

Usually when I mention this to people, their response is, "Okay, if 'sentient' is the wrong word, what word is better? Sapient? Intelligent?" and no. I'm not saying you're using the wrong vocabulary word with the wrong precise meaning. I'm saying you need to radically, fundamentally reexamine your base assumptions about the human/animal binary. You don't need to find a different word to express the assumption that non-human animals don't think, feel, communicate, learn, or solve problems; you need to actually start understanding that non-human animals do, in fact, think, feel, communicate, learn, and solve problems.

I only started thinking about the human/animal binary as an outgrowth of my interest in disability rights and youth rights, since so many of the purported things that make humans essentially different from "animals" are also things that exclude children and some disabled people. Oh, humans can talk and animals can't? So preverbal children and nonverbal disabled people aren't human?

Sometimes animal people invite this comparison themselves, saying things like "A dog is as intelligent as a 3 year old child." I mean, no, that's not true, a 3 year old human isn't as good at, say, scent tracking, as a dog of any age, but more fundamentally, a 3 year old human child is, in fact, human. And then some animal people like Peter Singer will actively spell out that a nonhuman animal should have more human rights than a disabled human child. The fact that "intelligence" is a concept always invoked in animal discussions, and that pet-keepers often self-identify as "parents," is proof that we can't seriously build the underpinnings of disability and youth liberation without problematizing the human/animal binary.

One time in a fandom group my partner pointed out that nonhuman animals are, in fact, sentient, and somebody responded sneeringly "You must be a vegan." Now, they're not a vegan (neither am I), but what a comeback. "You only acknowledge that animals have thoughts and feelings because you don't eat them!" My man, my dude, if acknowledging the reality that animals are thinking, feeling beings makes you feel weird about eating them, that's something you have to reconcile within yourself. You don't get to deny reality about it.

And ultimately, I do understand why stories about humans interacting with nonhumans tend to anthropomorphize the nonhumans -- because these stories are written by humans, read by humans, interpreted through the lens of human understanding. We really can't understand what it's like to be a frog or a salmon or a hippopotamus. I can't really know what it's like to feel the air change with my antennae, or process information through my octopus arm. That's our limitation. But I wish we would be more aware that we don't know what we don't know.

The best story I've read that really confronts the human/animal binary in all its existential absurdity is the Animal Man volume by Grant Morrison. Animal Man realizes that the human/animal binary is meaningless, becomes an eco-terrorist about it, has an existential crisis, realizes he's a fictional character in someone else's story, and confronts his creator. We're all God's creatures, and xe's fucking with us. Only logical reaction, really.