#love talking to him he's so straight to the point

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The way Nanami subtly doms you

Tags: dom!Nanami x fem!Reader, sub!Reader, dom/sub relationship, NO age regression, sub space.

An: yeah idk i feel like nanami’s very subtle with his domming style, but i see shiu kong as full on dom.

• Nanami isn’t the type to flex his dominance over you. He doesn’t have to be rude or degrading to drive the point home. You know exactly when he gives you that look, it means to behave. His hazel eyes cut in your direction, and his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, like he’s amused by your disobedience. However, he doesn’t smile — doesn’t reward bad behavior.

• “Want to say that again?”, “Language.”, “Didn’t I tell you no pouting?” when you’re being a brat and mouthing off. bonus points if he’s pulling his tie away from his neck and slowly wrapping it around his palm.

• It’s simple, but he gives you his hoodies or coats to wear when you’re out and about. He likes seeing his clothes encompassed your body, and he enjoys that everyone will immediately be able to tell just whose you are.

• Speaking of clothes, Nanami’s not the type to tell you when you can and can’t wear something. He’s confident in his abilities to keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean he won’t make suggestions. “Are you sure about the skirt, sweetheart? I don’t want your legs getting cold.”

• He takes great care of you in an inconspicuous manner. He’ll adjust your clothes on you, buttoning up your top or gently fixing your unruly hair. He’ll throw your towel and pajamas (that he picked out for you) in the dryer when you’re in the shower, so they are all warm and cozy for you when you get out.

• Nanami is also the type to set a pretty firm bedtime for you. He knows how much you like to stay up and how ill you get in the mornings if you hadn’t had a minimum of 8 hours of rest. So, he sets you on a pretty strict bedtime schedule and routine. Don’t worry. He’s there every night to cuddle you to sleep.

• Insistent that you hold his hand while you two are out. He knows how distractible you are, and it eases his mind when your palm rests in his.

• The way he talks can throw you straight into a more submissive headspace, and he knows it too. He doesn’t do it often, but when he notices you getting too stressed or burnt out, he’ll immediately start with the dom talk, “My baby needs a break, doesn’t she?” He’ll coo and pull you into his lap, and when you inevitably lean into his touch, “There she is. Did my baby miss me?”

• Nanami sees it as a gentlemanly thing, but it could also be seen as another form of domming. He doesn’t let you touch a single door handle if he’s with you, and you best believe he’s walking on the outside. You’re tucked beside him on the inside of the sidewalk. He’ll also never let you hold a shopping bag. No, he does not care that he’s holding a bunch of Victoria’s Secret and Ulta bags. He pays for everything. If your car needs gas, Nanami fills it up.

• On the off chance that you two are out, and he’s not right beside you, all he has to do is curl his finger and point at the ground in front of him to let you know that he wants you to come to him, and you better do as you’re told.

• The king of giving simple stern instructions. “Look at me.” “Speak up, baby.”, “Come here, now.”, “Give me a kiss.”, “Ask nicely.”

• Nanami will sit on the couch, spread his legs, and pat his knee when he wants you to sit on his lap. He doesn’t even have to give simple instructions for that.

• Even while he does all this, he respects your independence, autonomy, and intelligence. Let’s bffr rn he’s your biggest supporter in everything you do. He’s so in love with you because he knows how smart and hard working you are. He’s so damn lucky that he gets to be the man to pamper you and ease your weary mind. He loves being that safe space for you, so you can just relax, lean on him, and just be you.

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader — first time.

warnings! mdni! smut. male masturbation. reader catching dean. female masturbation. mentions of oral (both m and f receiving). fingering. praising. first time. dean talking you through it. pet names. unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it). graphic language. dean has a breeding kink. grammar mistakes.

word count! 3.5k

you were just… so sweet.

so painfully sweet and innocent. and dean didn’t want to take that away from you. he wanted you to be that innocent angel, curious of everything as long as you could. without being scarred by an ordinary mortal like him. the fact you happened to love him out of all people still baffled him. but he wasn’t complaining since he was absolutely and utterly in love with you.

but then again, you were driving him crazy to the point where the ache in his pants was getting worse and worse, day by day, where now his hand wasn’t enough to satisfy him. at this point, he got cramps in his fingers and couldn’t squeeze them in a fist properly.

he needed you. badly.

and you were so oblivious to the effect you had on him. every time you brushed against his body. or when you were in his bed, curiously watching scooby-doo as you demanded he put it on since he told you it was his favourite show when he was a kid—and you wanted to know all his favourite things. or when you’d explore your boundaries, testing out some physical contact by randomly taking his hand in yours, tucking your head under his arm as you stood next to each other, cuddling together as you went to sleep or kissing.

christ, you were so adorable. he loved you so much.

and you were so good at stirring his cock to life, unaware of what was happening.

which was pretty much the reason for his current predicament. dean was making something in the kitchen, and as the curious little angel that you were, you came closer and snuck under his arm, so now you were placed between the stove and his body.

he inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as your plush ass rubbed against his crotch. it was enough for a red light to light in his brain, and his thoughts beginning to go haywire.

too close. too close. step back. step back, he kept repeating to himself.

but how could he possibly step away from you when you looked so gorgeous, just innocently trying to learn something new from your boyfriend? dear god, was he going to hell. again.

he looked down since you were shorter than him, which was a mistake. his eyes widened, and his mouth watered as he was met with the valley of your perky breasts, a deep cutout in your shirt doing only so little to help his fantasies.

not only that, but he did start wandering where you even get clothes LIKE THAT.

fuck, who was picking your clothes? stupid question, as if he wasn’t the one to do so.

the truth was that dean spoiled you immensely. now, instead of buying the newest copy of ‘busty asian beauties’, he was picking out some magazines for you to read. you’d look at all the pretty pictures—that’s what you’d call them, and point at clothes you liked. and dean would get them for you when you stopped by some shops. how did he know your breast cup size, though?

well, he was experienced like that. and he loved looking down at your boobs when you were sleeping in his arms.

anyway.

to complete the overall outfit, you were wearing those low-cut jeans that nicely accented your plump ass that he loved swatting as you went past him. and the way your white panties were sticking out just made him imagine his fingers slipping under the fabric and making it dampen as he—

he took a sharp breath. again.

dean took a step back after all, only to discreetly palm his crotch as he hummed some kind of response to the question you just asked him. however, he couldn’t think straight. so, making up some lame excuse, he kissed you on your temple and quickly went to his bedroom, sitting down on his bed and resting his back against the pillow, already propped up.

he rubbed the bulge in his pants, groaning at the feeling of his cock straining against the fabric. he couldn’t take it anymore. he fumbled with his belt and pulled his pants and boxers down, freeing his dick. his massive length sprung free, hard as a rock, already leaking beads of precum. he spat on his hand, not bothering to take the lotion out of his night drawer and started stroking himself.

he started off slowly, imagining that it was your delicate hand, your small fingers grabbing his dick for the first time, barely able to wrap around his girth. he imagined you gasping in surprise as you would start moving your hand up and down, letting him guide you through it, so you’d do your best to pleasure him. and you would—he knew it. you were such a good little angel for him.

dean groaned and squeezed harder, picking up the pace of his hand, his pants and moans getting more audible, but he didn’t care about it at the moment. now, he was imagining you taking him in your mouth. at first, you’d be too eager—you’d gag around him and quickly pull back with that sheepish smile of yours when you did something wrong. holy fuck. he’d reassure you, and then you’d try again, slowly, taking the tip first, gently suckling with your pretty plump lips he loved to kiss. then, you’d go lower and lower, your cheeks hollowing as you—

the door to his room slammed open, and his heart stopped. he widened his eyes and turned his head, seeing… you out of all the people.

fuck him (not that he would mind).

you entered the room with that godforsaken curious expression, closing the door behind you. then, you stood by the side of his bed, your head tilted to the side as you looked at him, blinking slowly, as if you didn’t notice his fat, messy cock, tightly gripped in his hand, with skin slightly reddened from the intense strokes.

“are you okay?” you asked softly, and dean wished that something could just kill him right now, his face as red as it could possibly get.

“yeah. why are you asking?” he chuckled nervously, quickly tucking himself back in his pants, even though it was painful at this point. god, he needed to cum so badly.

“i don’t know. you disappeared. and then you were panting and calling my name, and i thought something was happening and that you needed my help,” you just couldn’t be more innocent than that. “i was scared something was wrong,” you admitted shyly, fiddling with your fingers.

and gosh, he’d take your face in his hands if it wasn’t for one of them being covered in precum.

“hey, don’t worry, birdie. i’m okay. just needed—“ he sighed, straightening his back and trying to muffle a grunt. “some relief.”

“from what?” yeah, of course, you’d ask. your curiosity was picked up again.

“it’s nothing that you should stress your little feathery head with,” he smiled, adjusting himself, trying his best not to moan.

and you took a moment to look at him. you tilted your head as your eyes raked over his body, his twitching hand and the massive tent in his pants. you blinked a few times as that familiar feeling you didn’t know started pooling in your lower abdomen. ogling his groin, you rubbed your thighs together, and dean noticed that instantly.

so angels do get horny.

he swallowed thickly, his mouth practically going dry as he saw your face contorting in frustration as you swayed from one leg to the other, trying to get some friction between your legs.

that’s when dean decided that he wouldn’t leave you hanging like that.

“what are you doing, birdie?” he asked, licking his lips.

“i don’t know. i have this weird feeling in my belly,” you scoffed with a small pout. “like i’m excited or something.”

“that’s cause you are. you’re aroused, baby,” he hummed, reaching his left hand out to you. he hooked his fingers under the hem of your jeans, pulling you closer so you were now standing between his legs. he rubbed your hip and smiled softly. “do you know how babies are made?” a stupid question, but, he needed to know that you were aware.

“dean, i know what sex is. i just didn’t think angels could feel that. apparently they can, and i feel like that only around you,” you huffed in frustration while dean couldn’t be more ecstatic than that. you were horny only around him.

“well, have you ever done it?” he asked, almost breathlessly. it felt like the best day of his life.

“no. i didn’t have to,” this matter-of-fact tone only made the older winchester chuckle in amusement.

“birdie, it’s not something you have to do. it’s something you do to feel good. to have some fun with the person you love. it’s not some obligatory task, y’know?” he explained, squeezing your hip.

“like the pizza man?” you tilted your head to the side, and dean sighed. damn, cas, for showing it to you.

“exactly. like the pizza man,” a small smile on his lips as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on your stomach. “but my question is, do you want to feel good, birdie? do you want to do this with me?” maybe, after all, he’d take some of your innocence. but just a little…

you nodded your head, the ache between your legs only intensifying. dean smiled and stroked your cheek with his knuckles.

“good girl,” and then, he pulled you in for the kiss that couldn’t scream hunger any louder.

he was kissing you with a fervour that you happily returned, your fingers tugging on his short hair, making him gasp in your mouth. he’s tongue quickly dominated yours, tasting the familiar cavern of your mouth.

dean grabbed you by the nape of your neck, pulling you on top of him so you were straddling him. he grunted into the kiss, grinding his hips up into you. the massive bulge in his pants rubbed against your clothed heat, making you gasp so sweetly into his lips.

“fuck, i need you so much, birdie. can i have you?” he practically whimpered, looking into your eyes with so much desperation and pent-up feelings.

you smiled and nodded, placing a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

“of course, deano,” and it was enough to make him feel like he was on top of the world.

quickly, he spun you around, your back on the plush blanket as he made his way between your legs. his breath hitched as he fumbled with your jeans, slowly sliding them down. his eyes fell wide open, and he felt as if his heart stopped when he saw that your white panties were practically transparent from how soaked they were.

“you’re this excited, birdie?” he asked with a small chuckle, throwing your pants on the floor. he lay down on his stomach, right between your legs, looking at your dampened underwear as if it was the most beautiful sight in the whole world. “you’re so wet. for me,” he sighed, almost in disbelief.

meanwhile, you felt shy. you trusted dean, but it was something totally new, and you didn’t know what to expect. angels weren’t supposed to feel like that… at all. but then again, you fell in love with a human, so might as well go to hell with it.

dean started blowing on the dampened spot, his warm breath making you squirm, your thighs trembling. you tried to lift them up, bent your knees, but he stopped you, throwing your legs over his shoulders, scooting closer to your needy pussy.

“i didn’t know you were sensitive like that,” he chuckled and pressed a small kiss against your clothed core. you gasped softly, mindlessly moving your hips as if to grind against his face.

you were flustered and didn’t know what to do. which dean noticed and took it as his personal mission to make it feel good for you. he looked up at your reddened face with a soft smile, rubbing circles with his fingers on the soft skin of your thighs.

“i’ll make it so good for you, birdie. i promise,” he panted, and then, he practically ripped your white panties open. not that he was planning on getting rough with you—he just didn’t want to pull away from his new favourite place.

as soon as your pussy was bare to his eyes, he almost gasped in amazement. your pinky folds were covered in arousal, glistening deliciously as if to invite him to bury his face there. he brushed against them with his fingers, and then, slowly parted them open. he inhaled sharply through his nose as he placed his fingers on your clit, already feeling how swollen it was under his digits. he started rubbing it in soft circles, making you gasp and arch into his touch. jesus christ, it was like all his dreams came true in this moment.

“you have such a pretty little pussy, birdie. and you’re already so eager for me,” he muttered breathlessly, grinding his hips against the mattress as he was touching you.

his other hand moved to your entrance, his fingers probing it open, and then, he slowly slid one finger inside. you widened your eyes and inhaled sharply, sitting up and looking at what he was doing.

“shh, shh. it’ll feel good, baby. i promise. watch and learn so you can help yourself if i’m not around, okay?” he cooed, looking up to meet your eyes.

after receiving a nod of confirmation, dean continued. slowly, he started moving his finger inside of you, feeling your soft walls clamp around it greedily. fuck, he wanted to sink his cock inside you as soon as possible to feel you flutter around him, memorize his shape as it twitched eagerly inside of you, ready to spill his thick cum deep inside your womb, marking you as his. but first, he needed to prepare you for it.

then, he added the second finger, moving them in and out but also trying to stretch your tight hole for his dick. it could barely take in two of his fingers, so he was only imagining how tight you’d feel wrapped around his cock—which made it twitch painfully in his pants.

you were making such beautiful sounds—every shy groan, gasp or a whimper, sending him into oblivion as you watched him fingering you like a good little student.

however, as soon as he felt your walls begin to flutter around his digits, he slowly withdrew them, making you whine quietly at the sudden emptiness. he smiled and looked at you while his thumb was pressed against your swollen bud. “i know you want more, baby. but now it’s time for something better, and i want you to finish with me. but i’ll kiss that pretty pussy later and make you feel good again,” he promised, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as his thumb stroked your clit. you gasped and nodded, biting your lower lip as you looked up at him.

“i need you, dean,” you whined so pathetically that he felt he’d cum in his pants right at that exact moment.

he nodded his head, taking his clothes off at the same time, eager to sink deeply into your warmth. as soon as he pulled his boxers down, his cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. you widened your eyes curiously, tilting your head to the side as you watched it throb, precum leaking down from the tip. subconsciously, you licked your lips, your cunt only getting wetter. dean smirked cockily, getting between your legs once again.

“like what y’see, birdie?” he chuckled, stroking himself a few times, spreading the precum on his length.

then, he rubbed the tip of his fat cock against your dripping slit, coating it in your juices. finally, he nudged the head of his erection in your entrance, slowly pushing in, filling your desperate cunt. you gasped loudly, your eyes widening as you felt his cock stretching you out. with a whine, you leaned back on the pillow, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a few needy whimpers.

dean grunted, feeling your walls flutter around him, trying to accommodate his size.

“you’re so fucking tight, birdie,” he panted, slowly pushing forward, trying to sink in fully, just waiting for the moment his tip would brush against your cervix. one hand was firmly holding your hip meanwhile the other moved to your chest, giving your breast a firm squeeze as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, feeling it harden in his touch.

soon, he was fully sheathed in you, the tip of his dick pressed against your cervix, your walls stretching on his girth, already memorizing each throbbing vein. he looked down at you with a soft smile, stroking your hair as he moved some of it out of your already sweaty forehead.

“how are you doing, birdie? feels good?” he asked. he wanted to make sure that it was 100% pleasurable to you, and he’d stop as soon as he noticed even a slight narrowing of your brows.

you nodded, biting down on your lower lip. “yhym. y-yeah. feels good,” you sighed, slowly relaxing after the intrusion.

dean smiled and kissed you lovingly on your lips, beginning to move as soon as he felt that you weren’t so tense anymore. you gasped softly when he pulled out, the head of his cock still nestled in your pussy, and then moved back in. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your nails digging into his back, leaving dark crescent marks on his skin. he hissed and groaned in pleasure, picking up the pace.

“you drive me crazy, birdie. feels so good. so wet. i should’ve put my cock in you a long time ago,” he moaned, his hips beginning to slam against yours, the loud sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing through the walls along with the sound of your pussy eagerly slurping him in.

soon, he was pounding in and out of you, your lovemaking echoing obscurely to the point it was heard outside of the room, and you just imagined the look of exasperation on sam’s face as he pondered over getting some earplugs. but it quickly disappeared from your mind, your focus landing back on dean and his cock, basically splitting you open.

he threw your legs over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your thighs as this new position allowed him to go even deeper. you were holding onto the headboard, moans leaving your mouth nonstop, and as he hit that sweet spot inside of you, you almost screamed, clenching around him.

“you’re gonna cum? huh, birdie? cum for me,” he panted, thrusting into you even harder.

you yelped pathetically, feeling a knot forming in your lower belly, your body tensing up as it was preparing to fall over the edge.

“yeah, that’s it. cum for me, angel. you’re so pretty. fuck, i love you so much,” he panted, freeing your legs and just holding your thighs as he made you wrap them around his waist. then, he leaned forward, crashing his lips on yours in a desperate kiss.

and that was enough to send you over the edge. you clenched around him and then relaxed as your juices started gushing out on his length. he helped you come down from your high. however, his movements faltered as he was close too. he shortly followed after you, stilling in your cunt as he spilled thick ropes of his pearly seed inside your warm womb.

he drew out your climax and finally slumped down, resting on top of you. he cradled you in his arms, his head resting between your breasts as his soft cock was still nestled inside of you, your mixed juices dripping out, creating a mess.

“god, you were amazing,” he said, kissing the side of your breast. however, you quickly slapped his arm, making him hiss and raise his head at you, a small pout on his lips. “ow, what was that for?”

“don’t say his name now!” you huffed, your cheeks red as if you were caught doing something inappropriate. dean chuckled and lifted himself up, peppering your face with kisses.

“okay, okay. i won’t,” he murmured, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, just basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking.

after a while, he pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of you. he smiled proudly and scooped some up with his thumb, pushing it back inside.

“just so nothing goes to waste,” he hummed. “we’re definitely going to do it more often from now on,” he grinned at you, studying your face. “you’ll be full of my seed every day.”

and once again, you had that curious expression on.

“can we do it now?”

dean was flabbergasted with how quickly you had recovered. but then again, you were an angel, and his dick was already hardening.

who was he to deny his little angel?

a/n: i didn’t expect it to be so long lmfao😭lmk what you think<3

༄♡ tags: @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @figthoughts @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @deansbite @10ava01

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[aplaceinme]

“I’m just saying… there’s a reason why people say ‘three times it’s a charm’ Evan.”

“And I’m just saying I don’t want to risk it, Tommy,” Evan huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C’mon, what could possibly happen?” Tommy insists. 

“Hmmm…let me think… oh, yeah, I got it! Given our track record, we break up for good,” Evan says exasperated. 

“That won’t happen again, Evan. We’ve talked things out. Everything has been laid out on the table. We are better than ever,” Tommy says softly, walking up to Evan and tenderly cupping his cheeks, “We are good! Nothing bad will happen, I promise.” 

Evan tries to resist, his pout really pronounced but he can’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Fine! Fine! We will go and have dinner at Miceli’s again,” Evan relents, throwing his arms up in the air. “But if things go south again, it will be all your fault, ok?” 

Tommy leans in and kisses him softly, letting the kiss linger a little. “Ok, if something happens, it will be my fault.”

Evan goes to his bedroom to change his clothes, all the while angrily muttering, “Thousand of places in L.A. to go but no! We have to go back to that place… all because the pizza is good… fuck that place.”

“Did you say something?” Tommy asks, trying not to laugh at Evan’s adorableness. 

“Nothing… except… We are not getting spumoni, Tommy!” Evan yells from his bedroom.

Head thrown back in laughter, Tommy sits down in one of the barstools to wait for him to be finished. “Fine but, again, everything will be alright, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that! But you know what else people say? Famous last words! That’s what they say,” Evan says before closing the bathroom room. 

Nodding, Tommy quietly says under his breath as if trying to convince himself, “It will be alright.” 

—

“Will you stop muttering? We are here, and everything has been ok so far, right?” 

“Yeah, so far,” Evan says stubbornly. At Tommy’s raised eyebrow, his shoulders relax. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right! Everything is fine. We are together and everything is fine.”

Tommy holds Evan’s hand across the table and intertwines their fingers. “Exactly.” 

“I’m just glad we aren’t going to the movies after this. I think they also bring bad luck to us,” Evan teases, though he also seems to be serious. 

Wanting to tease him back, Tommy says, “Actually, I saw that they are playing this movie that I wanted to check out…”

“Do not even think about it! Not tonight at least,” Evan points at Tommy seriously. 

“Alright, alright, no movies tonight,” Tommy laughs. “We will just go straight to my place then… find something else to entertain us with.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Evan says with a smirk. 

“Oh my God! I think he’s choking! Somebody help us!” 

Tommy and Evan look over at the table from where the scream came and, after sharing a small glance and a nod, they get up and run over. 

“Move over, make room, make room, we are firefighters,” Evan says loudly, reaching the patient first. 

As Evan starts doing the Heimlich maneuver, Tommy reassures the family and makes sure they give Evan room to work. 

After a couple of agonizing seconds, the man spits out the food and everyone at the restaurant releases a breath of relief and they start to clap.  

Tommy moves over and helps Evan to sit the man down as they start to assess him, asking him if he is feeling alright or if he would rather they call an ambulance. 

Once the man reassures them that he is ok and thanks Evan profusely, they start to walk back to their table. 

“Glad that turned out o-” Evan starts to say but a scream interrupts him. 

“What now?” Tommy asks. 

“Fire in the kitchen!” Someone screams. 

It takes two seconds for chaos to reign. People start to scream and run desperately, pushing tables, chairs, and everything out of their way. 

While Evan calls 911 and starts helping people out of the restaurant, Tommy runs up to the kitchen.

Grabbing a fire extinguisher, Tommy tries to put the fire out, but it’s not enough. The fire is spreading fast, so he just makes sure that no one else is inside the kitchen and then runs outside. 

“Tommy, Tommy,” Evan calls to him and hugs him as soon as he is within reach. 

“Everyone out?” Tommy asks him, quickly looking Evan over to make sure he isn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I got everyone out and the firefighters should be here any minute now.” 

“Good, good, that’s good!” Tommy says in relief, his adrenaline starting to recede. 

—

Tommy and Evan are standing a few meters away from the restaurant, watching as station 56 put the fire out. The fire spread out so much that the restaurant is absolutely destroyed, Tommy doubts the owners could salvage anything from inside. 

“What is it? I can see you looking at me,” Tommy asks, turning to look at Evan. 

Evan gestures wildly at the restaurant and looks at him incredulously. 

“What?” Tommy plays dumb. 

“What? What?” Evan yelps. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe the fact that the restaurant is literally destroyed. Third’s time a charm, my ass!” 

“Technically, I was right, Evan.” 

“Wha- How?” Evan sputters. 

“Well, nothing bad happened to us. We are ok, there hasn’t been any misunderstanding, no one has confessed anything from their past… we are ok, just like I said we will be,” Tommy reasons.

Evan shakes his head and chuckles, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…” 

“Evan��” Tommy starts but gets interrupted. 

“I love you,” Evan says. 

Tommy does a double take, not expecting that. “What?”

“I love you,” Evan repeats, shrugging his shoulders. 

“This is the first time you’re saying that,” Tommy says, bewildered. 

“I know.” 

“I… I- I…” Tommy looks around them, in disbelief that Evan could love him. 

“You don’t have to say it if you do-”

“I love you too. Of course, I love you,” Tommy tells him quickly, not wanting Evan to doubt it for even one second. 

“Yeah?” Evan beams at him. 

“Yes,” Tommy nods and leans in to kiss him, not caring about the fire, firefighters, bystanders, or anything else. 

Once they part for air, Tommy asks him, “Should we get going? They seem to have everything under control.” 

Evan nods, and they slowly start to walk to where Tommy had parked his truck, with Tommy’s arm around Evan’s waist. 

“Since no one got hurt, I feel ok with admitting that I’m kinda happy that the restaurant went up in flames,” Evan whispers as if it is a secret. 

Tommy chuckles, “Yeah, me too.” 

When they are near the truck, Tommy jokes, “So, what about that movie then?” 

Evan playfully hits him on the shoulder but laughs. “I believe someone said something about finding something to entertained us with at their place?”

“Let’s go then,” Tommy says with a smirk, walking faster towards his truck. 

[lalalunel]

Balcony Debauchery

idk, needy Leon is a plague

wc: 1277

cw: begging, mild dirty talk, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap that thing yall!), creampie, sneaky sex but not well executed, first time writing correct straight smut in ever pls don't bully me

enjoy?

“C’mon...” Leon complained, egging you on like he had been the entire night. He had a mission to accomplish: get you to be a bit dirtier than you would ever be. “It won’t kill you baby.” 

Together at a friend’s place for dinner, Leon seemed to be in a mood entirely inappropriate for what the setting was. From his hand on your thigh under the table at dinner, to his hand drifting way too far down while standing and mingling. It was obvious what he was after, and you made it even more obvious that you weren’t going to entertain it. 

It had gotten to a point where you had to drag him outside, afraid that he would all but start fucking you right in front of all of your friends without a lick of shame. You brought him out to the balcony of your friend’s place, the area fairly secluded. That was your first mistake. 

“It won’t kill me, you’re right, but it also won’t kill you to wait until we get home,” You returned, which was simply just common sense. If Leon waited until you got back to your place, you’d let him do whatever he wanted. Even butt stuff. 

“Except it will kill me, baby,” He groans, getting close and hugging you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms tight around your waist, pressing himself completely flush against you. “I’ve never wanted you so badly. I can’t wait however long you plan to stay here.” 

He groans lowly against your ear, absolutely adoring the feel of your body against his. The plush of your ass up against his aching cock almost has his head spinning. He’s been hard for far longer than any man should be at this point. “You look so damn pretty tonight too. What’s wrong with wanting to appreciate my baby?” 

You’re about to reply when you feel one hand drifting down from your waist, trailing down your front until his hand is palming at your thigh, far too close to your pussy. That was his real goal. “C’mon…” 

You huff, wanting to say no. It was so damn risky. It’s not like the balcony was completely private. If anyone were to open the door, they’d see you in an instant. But damn did his hand feel good against your thigh, and you’d be lying if you said all his efforts from the night to try and get you in a similar mood did nothing to you. 

“Fine,” You conceded, rolling your eyes. You could sense him perking up behind you, happy to have won you over. You don’t have time to further wallow in your weakness when he’s abruptly slipping his hand under your dress, tugging the panties you were wearing to the side with one hand. You feel his lips against your neck as his other hand works deftly to undo his slacks. He wasted no time.

“Gotta make this quick...” he mumbles under his breath, huffing lightly as he frees his cock, the cool night air ghosting his leaking tip. He presses you up against the balcony railing, bending you over it ever so slightly so he can notch his head against your hole, pushing into you with a low groan. “Fuuuck, I love this pussy.” His words are almost a whine, needy in every sense of the word. 

His words pool heat deep in your stomach, making you clench around him involuntarily with a bitten down moan from you, only pulling more groans from his lips. “Don’t tighten up on me like that, baby. I’ll come in seconds.” His words are followed by an experimental thrust of his hips, one that he seems to find much joy in because he then sets a steady pace. 

He rocks forward smoothly in a short thrust, pushing your hips up against the railing as his pelvis presses against your ass, his cock nudging nice and deep inside of you before he’s pulling back and repeating the motion all over again. 

“Told me you didn’t want it,” he grunts, one hand gripping your waist while the other palms at your ass under your dress. “Told me you wanted to wait until we got home but look how fucking wet you were for me this whole time.” Corroborating his claim, a wet squelching sound followed every time he pulled back and pushed in, your arousal effortlessly coating his cock and making his thrusts even smoother. 

The more he thrusts into you, the less you seem to worry about whether or not someone’s going to catch you, instead you seem a lot more concerned about Leon’s cock and the way it's just barely nudging that sweet spot in your pussy, and how you need it to get there. You’re too deep into it and too impatient to use words, instead pushing your hips back against his when he thrusts in, your eyes rolling back when he hits exactly where you wanted him to. You clench around him again, tighter this time and his hips stutter. 

“Fuck, baby, what did I say? You keep clenching like that, and I won't last,” He groans softly, his grip on your waist tightening as he speeds up his thrusts, seemingly remembering that you were on a time crunch here. There’s no way your friends haven’t noticed you two missing. 

He works with a scary amount of precision, drilling into you with short, deep thrusts that have you clenching rapidly around his cock, sucking him back in every time he pulls back. “Leon-” You don’t have to say anything else for him to know what you mean, for him to know what’s coming. His hand on your ass comes forward, his middle and ring finger finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. 

“C’mon baby, gonna come on my cock for me, right? Gonna give me what I want?” He taunts, coaxing you into coming. He wants it, he wants to feel the way you tighten around him, the way your body stiffens before melting into the bliss of an orgasm. The mere thought of it almost has him coming before you do, but he’s too much of a gentleman to do that. “Come, baby. Need it. Need to feel you come.” 

His words spark your orgasm to life, your body stiffening as your eyes roll back, a high-pitched sound leaving your mouth despite your best efforts to stamp down all your noises. You clench unbelievably tight around him, and he can’t take it anymore, his hips stuttering as he pushes deep into you, his cock twitching and jumping as he spills ropes of hot cum straight into you, burying his face into your hair as he does. “F-fuck, you’re so good for me. Fucking love you. L-love you coming for me.” 

With a few slow rolls of his hips to completely ride out his orgasm and yours he pulls out of you, wincing sharply when he catches a glimpse of his cum dripping down your thigh. He can feel his cock kick again at the sight and he can already feel the scolding he’s going to get later about how his cum leaked all over your panties. “Maybe... We should just go home…” 

You throw him a slightly fucked out glare over your shoulder.

What only made it worse was the look your friends gave you when you and Leon rejoined the group and announced you were leaving early. It wasn't hard to tell from the flushed look on both of your faces what had happened on the balcony. 

You made damn sure that Leon paid for that when you got home.

~~~

can't tell if this feels rushed or not, the horny started taking over

[ellecdc]

Hey! Congrats on 5k elle!! <3

Can I ask a baby it's cold outside with the prompt "did you really put a blanket over me while i was sleeping." with Regulus? Maybe he fell asleep talking with Reader and she put the blanket so he isn't cold?

— 🎵

thank you love! also, for some reason this became an academic rivals fic, but it felt right for our Reggie! hahaha thanks for the prompt <3

Regulus Black x fem!reader who did not stupefy him [539 words]

CW: could be considered gn!reader - the only gendered marker for reader is the term 'witch', rivals, haters to....?, open ended, banter and fluff

Regulus woke with a start, which wasn’t unusual. 

What was unusual was that he woke up in the library, or, rather, that he fell asleep in the library. Perhaps even more unusual was the throw blanket carefully draped over his shoulders. 

“Merlin, you’re wound tight; who wakes up like that?” Your voice sounded from somewhere to his right; Regulus was sitting up board straight already, and he had no time to be concerned with whether or not he had crease lines criss crossing on the side of his face that had been resting on his jumper clad arm, nor whether his curls had taken on a mind of their own when he turned his attention to you. 

“What did you do?” Regulus hissed. Your eyebrows furrowed near comically where they were pointed down at your textbook before your curious eyes moved up to consider him.

“Are you quite alright, Black?” 

“You…you stupefied me or something. I’m sure of it.” He insisted as primly as he could muster, only having to pause once to clear the sound of sleep from his voice. 

“I did not stupefy you, you git.” You hissed right back. 

He realised then that it was a little peculiar; the two of you had the entire library to yourselves, seeing as most students went home for the the holidays, and those who remained at the school over the holidays didn’t exactly spend their time haunting the library of all places, yet the two of you were somehow sitting at the same group of tables.

Peculiar, still, because the two of you didn’t much care for each other.

It’s not that Regulus particularly disliked you or what not, but rather that you were an annoying pain in his arse and constantly trying to best him in your shared classes.

He had hoped to get a chance to get ahead of his course work over the break - put a little space between the two of you in terms of grades - but it appeared that you had shared the same idea. 

Meddlesome witch. 

“Then you must have put a sleeping potion in my tea.” He deduced as he vanished what remained in his cup with a flippant flick of his wrist. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re impossible. Why would I have done that?”

“You’re trying to best me in classes.”

You let out a rather inelegant snort as the corner of your lips turned upwards into a smirk. “I don’t have to try to best you, Black, I am the best.”

Regulus let out a derisive laugh. “Right, so, what? You just put a blanket over my shoulders out of the kindness of your heart?”

If Regulus wasn’t mistaken, he thought perhaps he noticed a look of bashfulness cross your features as you started to pack up your things. 

“You were shaking like a jar of billywigs, Black; it was impossible to get any work done with the thunk, thunk, thunking of your chair legs. Besides, it’s not like I was going to waste my magic casting a warming charm over you.” 

And, if Regulus wasn’t mistaken, he thought he felt the telltale tingling of a warming charm fading as the door to the library closed behind you. 

How peculiar.

[lemotmo]

Yeah let's not do this for 3 months people. He's not leaving! We're at the beginning of Buddie!!!

Q. I'm so confused by all the excitement, and I admit that I struggle with facial awareness, but all we got was Eddie saying he's leaving so that feels way more like a Ryan exit than a beginning to Buddie. What did I miss?

A. Okay I'm going to say this once, and only once. We are not spending 3 months on a nonstarter spiral. Ryan is not leaving. It's not an exit story. It's the beginning of a feelings realization story, only Eddie hasn't quite arrived at the starting point for his part yet. Lots of people struggle with facial cues, anon, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it's not an exit storyline. It's drama set up to kick start Buck's spiral and to bring Christopher home. That's why I loved that they had Buck on the couch and Eddie in the kitchen. The couch has kind of always been used to symbolize a romantic relationship between Buck and Eddie, both of them being home when they're on that couch, so putting Buck on the couch in that scene basically puts Buck in position. Buck has arrived at the start of his realization arc. The box has been opened (the box being his long unexamined feelings for Eddie) and he won't be able to put the lid back on it this time. The moment we see Buck have at the end of the episode was not his 'oh Eddie's my person' moment but it was the start of Buck's journey to that realization. Buck was devastated in that moment, but for the sake of Eddie, he attempted to fake enthusiasm. Eddie being happy means more to Buck than his fear of being left behind, again. But that fear will come out when the season returns in March. Tim basically confirmed that Buck will spiral and he will throw himself into a distraction to try and block his pain. That distraction will inevitably fail, as Tim also already spoiled (they learned their Tommy lesson and they won't be repeating it), and that will force Buck to once and for all have to confront and figure out why the thought of losing Eddie sends him spiraling. The end of the episode was the beginning of Buck's journey.

Eddie hasn't reached his starting point, yet. But having him in the kitchen, the other big Buddie room, was a way to show that he is close. Framing the shot the way they did, Eddie having a straight line of sight to Buck on the couch, was intentional. Eddie is close but he's not there yet. He's distracted by the whole Christopher thing, as he should be. Eddie won't be able to arrive at his starting point until he gets the Christopher situation settled. That entire scene was LOUD. Buck letting himself in using his key. Eddie not being able to look at Buck when talking about moving. The flirty way Buck asked what he was watching on the iPad, fully believing it was porn. And again the way the entire scene was framed and shot. The close up of Eddie's face when he realizes he's not alone in this moment and that he does have someone in his corner. Then the close up of Buck's face when he allows the mask of enthusiasm to slip and we see the real sadness that he is feeling. It was very clearly the beginning of their storyline. It was in no way shaped, framed or written as the beginning of an exit storyline. It's happening, anon. Let yourself enjoy the build up 💗

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated!

YES to all that Ali talked about here! Let's be happy you guys. We are finally here after 7 very long years of ups and many downs. This is the first time we've actually gotten real confirmation that the Buddie slow burn is on!

Let's enjoy this break before the show comes back, because I anticipate a lot of drama in 8b. And once the show is back on? Let's just sit back, relax and watch Buddie's story unfold. It'll be glorious!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[aithusarosekiller]

Honestly we need to make more GENUINE enemies to lovers Jegulus content

With so so much emphasis on the enemies to the point where it's practically enemies AND lovers

The type where they're so damn evil to each other that you question whether them getting together breaks some sort of moral code but at the same time you can't help but wait for them to angrily kiss.

They're calling each other the most horrific, offensive names and doing everything they can to get a rise out of each other. They're using one another to turn their friends against them. They're getting in physical fights (so much tension there it's sickening) and they're just straight up vile constantly.

They NEVER EVER shut up about how much they hate one another, they'll both search each other out in order to cause some form of damage to either property or the person. Whenever they need to let off some steam they pick a fight because it's become habit. It goes on for years.

When they eventually get together it's with so much resentment. They almost definitely accidentally confess or kiss in the middle of a fight and it only increases the anger on both sides. So now they're both aware that they're into each other but they refuse to step down and say they like each other because 'he's still so infuriating and his ego is too big already, I can't let him think he's hot and worth being around' so they pretend it never happened and keep 'hating' each other. Over the next few weeks they will be literally clinging so desperately to each other like they can't bear to be apart while whispering hatred to each other looking like they want to kill each other. And it isn't that there's a weird coercion thing with a power imbalance, they're both equal, they're just annoying little violent shits.

It only mostly dulls with time. They're 6 years into their relationship planning their wedding while cuddling up in bed and have to pause to insult each other's taste, looks, and personality, fight over literally nothing and bring up times from the past that they managed to get one up on the other, then smile sweetly and have a tiny little gentle kiss before going back to planning. Their petnames consist of 'fuckface' 'foureyes' 'ugly cow' and 'wankstain' and they're used intermittently with 'baby' 'lover' 'babydoll' 'my heart' and ANY other cringe ass name you can think of. Duality. Idk just James potter saying babydoll to the person he just accused of being a lying, money-hungry, ugly, disrespectful whore is so him.

Any normal reasonable stranger would be so worried about how unhealthy and toxic it is but they're just so used to hating each other that it's become a love language. A way to express themselves and reminisce together. They know they love each other but it's just fun to pretend they don't, there are boundaries since they got together but they never really talk about them bc they know what they are and not to cross them.

[hey-august]

Helloooo, I was just curious if you’re still (or are) taking requests. I was wondering if we can get some Dom!Buggy and a Siren reader smut thing? I would love to see what you can come up with! If not then feel free to ignore this. I hope you have a great day!! ✨✨

Hello hello, anon!! I apologize for the delay in getting to your request. I was hoping the words would put themselves into the story, but we had to compromise on a different format. 😅

I hope that this bullet list / outline captures enough of what you were hoping for!

WC: ~720 Warning: nsfw, buggy x siren!reader, gn!reader, established relationship, mention of a blowjob, implied getting frisky in a semi-public setting, insertion sex - reader receiving, creampie

Reader/You would either be shape-shifting (human form), or maaabye the half human and half bird variant, and a part of Buggy's crew.

Established relationship, with low key PDA and flirting.

You'd rile Buggy up throughout the day through little touches, looks, and sing-songy comments. Maybe getting a little naughty yourself when Buggy is paying attention - a sneaky hand between your legs or just spreading your legs wide under a table to give him a peek, licking something off your finger etc

Your comments would get more teasing and explicit the longer this goes on. Talking about how worked up Buggy is, he's gotta control that cannon in his pants, how can he think when all the blood is in the wrong head, is he even thinking about the next treasure heist or is he thinking about you moaning his name - like this~

At one point, it seemed like you were going to give him a little extra attention. A make out session that might end with a blow job somewhere quiet. You're kneeling, Buggy is already sweating, and his pants aren't even unbuckled.

Aaaaaand someone interrupts.

He's pissed, you're amused. You send him off, again sing-songy just to rub some salt in that wound. You can't help it, he's just so cute when he's angry.

And you get the reap the benefits, because when Buggy's done with all the other shit that needed him, you're next on the list.

Bent over his vanity, something shoved in your mouth (bandana, scarf, gloves, whatever he has within reach), and he's railing you to kingdom come.

Making you look at yourself in the mirror, telling you to keep the shit from falling off the table top, all while fucking you harder and jostling the poor vanity. It wasn't made for this. Hell, some of the lights flicker from how hard he's bucking into you.

You're practically hugging the shit on his vanity that threatened to fall to the floor. You're soaking the fabric in your mouth with spit. Blinking away tears. And, requested by Buggy, watching yourself in the mirror get wrecked.

Your calves are getting sore from being on tiptoe, the edge of the tabletop is digging into your pelvis. You're aching from how his thickness is keeping you stretched.

Buggy's hands are everywhere, holding your hip, on your shoulder, around your neck, in your hair.

Eventually, his stumped arms are on either side of your waist, holding you in place. One disembodied hand is on your chin and squeezing your cheeks, making sure you have a lovely view straight ahead. Buggy's other hand is holding his own hair out of his sweaty face.

With that sight, you whine and bite down on the soaked fabric as you hit the peak. You're rounding your back and curling inwards, at least as much as you can.

Buggy's ending isn't that much further away. He's hunched over you and his thrusts are frantic as he chases his end with dogged determination.

His movements don't immediately stop when he finishes, there's still an unfed hunger. But it teeters out and he finally stops fucking you.

You're both breathing heavily, although your lungs can't inflate as deeply because of his weight still draped on you. His hand comes up to pull the soggy fabric from your mouth. Your jaw is sore, it feels strange to be able to close your mouth without resistance.

It's not until your shakes come from still standing on tiptoes that Buggy finally moves. Kisses on the back of your ear and little murmurs about how good you feel, how good you make him feel, that you belong to him, while he pulls out.

But not entirely.

His dick is still half-hard enough for him to lazily thrust in and out, more affectionately than lustfully.

Only a few times, though, before he does ease himself out entirely.

You can finally lower your heels to the ground, although you're still leaning on the vanity table.

Buggy gives a nice firm slap to your ass and chuckles. Sure, you might have manipulated him with all your teasing and singing, but he is a very willing participant in this game.

And looking at you - faced covered in spit and sweat, hand still clutching random make-up items, cum dripping down your thighs - Buggy is damn pleased with himself.

[icarusredwings]

"I said

Silence.

I warned you, If you won't stop, I would do it myself."

Francis wasn't done with him. Not yet anyway. But he would make him obedient. Wordlessly taking orders like a machine. No more back talk. He would make him perfect. At least… that is....Until Logan shows up.

Chapter 3.

Brand New City

Cw: Dead Dove, Mentions of Rape, Kidnapping, Straight up torture, Various cruel and unusual punishments, Blood, Murder, Feral behavior, Descriptions of pain and wounds, Voices, Hallucinations, Extreme hurt/comfort, Angst, Loss of healing factor, loss of voice- Permanently(!), Character death.

You may experiance lots of crying.

He would hum if he could. Hum along to the electricity he could hear from the light above him. Make a song out of it. Harmonize with the screams.

But he couldn't even do that.

Opening the door was none other then the man who prevented him from ever doing that again. His head lowers on instinct, trying to get a better look through the sweat running down his forehead. He would have loved to explain to the reader how this place stunk. It SHOULD have smelled like rotting flesh, agony, and B.o. But it smelled of nothing.

Nothing at all.

He couldn't even taste the blood in his mouth.

The man in front of him smirked, too smugly for his liking. Clapping his hands together he stood about 2 feet from his chair, rubbing them together as he smiled bigger than the Joker at his batman themed birthday party.

“So. How's your recovery coming? Hopefully the boys weren't too rough with you.” He states, looking down on him like Johnathan Groff as King George did on John Adams. “You know how they can be. You know the saying, Boys will be boys.”

The comment was direct. It hurt. It hurt because he knew that his goons were in fact too rough with him. He knew he wouldn't give a rat's ass if they didn't feed him, punched him, kicked him. He didn't care if they held him down, beat him until he couldn't move any longer, coughed blood in their face or if they had their way with him until they became bored.. and it hurt.

Oh, did it hurt...

Still did..

Look, Wade could take a lot, he was already mentally snapped. So for them to take away that last bit of sanity he held? It was simply cruel. Like hanging a bone to a starving dog JUST out of reach no matter how far it jumps and snaps, always failing, eventually giving up, laying down, and accepting its fate of permanent malnutrition to the point of death. Accepting that by fighting it was only moving up their appointment with her.

With Death.

Wade felt like dying after what they've done to him. He knew he thought about it a lot but… He's never wanted to see her more than now. She would kiss him better.. she would take away his pain.

He was sure that his brain was rotting in places it wasn't before, the flesh of his mind decomposing, hot with dehydration and.. what was he talking about? Oh my god was he STILL talking? For fuck sakes.

Glancing up, Francis was still going on about something. Probably something stupid. Why did mad scientists always gloat to their victims?

He wondered how long he was going to let him rot like this. His limbs were already so numb, so heavy and felt like gravity was close to ripping them off with no help at all. It hurt.

That's all he could keep thinking.

It hurts.

What exactly? Well… Everything. Mainly his throat. God did his throat hurt. It throbbed, was sticky, bloody, and raw. His spine hurt, his toes hurt, his jaw hurt, his fingers felt so numb that he wasn't even sure if they were still attached. The soreness alone was killing him. Whatever he did to him? Wade felt like he enhanced his pain receptors. Taking them from a 15 to a 150.

It hurt so badly to breathe, each breath making his chest shake, rise and fall, trembling. This only enhanced, the sharp pain running through his heavy cheek, flinching as he was slapped.

“What's my name?”

Glancing up at him, Wade was more then confused. His body was falling into pieces and THAT'S what he cared about!? What's worse is he knew that he couldn't answer him. He was physically incapable of it.

“I said ‘What's my name?!” He screams at him, leaning in close, staring as Wade glared daggers at him, his mind already thinking of millions of ways to kill him.

If only he had the strength to fight..

Leaning in, Francis smirked that sick bastard of a smile, putting his hand to his ear. “Sorry, What was that? I don't think I heard you correctly, could you repeat that?”

About 5 full seconds pass before his grin gets widder, breathing out as he stands again, sighing in relief.

“Finally… Silence. What did I tell you? I warned you that If you won't stop, I would have to do it myself.”

He flicks Wade in the nose almost playfully. Wade, who, if it wasn't for the tape wrapped around his head to the point breathing through his mouth wasn’t an option- would have bitten his finger clean off.

Francis punches him. Hard. He breathed heavily through his nose, heaving and trying to groan out but nothing came out. Nothing ever came out anymore..

He laughs, smiling. Wade could count all of his teeth if his eye wasn't starting to swell up. Grabbing his face, tears forced themselves out of his eyes and down his cheek. Pulling him close, Francis put their heads together. “Oh, Look at you. So pretty when you cry.. are those for me? Hm? Ooh yes, Show me those big scared eyes. You aren't so full of quips now, are you?”

His hand reaches down, cranking up the collar around his neck, watching Wade's body shake. Not from fear but because his body was physically struggling to stay upright. He would have already flopped over if his arms and legs weren't chained, making him only slouch instead of fall to the floor.

“Let's be honest, you look better with your mouth shut anyway.”

Looking at him, he was confused. So confused. What was wrong with this guy? What kind of game is this? If Wade's voices didn't agree with him he would have claimed that Francis lost it far more than he did.

He pulls away, trailing a finger from the collar, going up his throat and across his jaw. “So let's make you gorgeous, huh? So… What's my name?”

Wade's eyes widen, his pupils, for once, shrinking. He squeezes his legs further together, trying to turn away only to flick him off with his untied finger, his wrists tied to the chair arms.

Francis slams a fist down on the finger, snapping it back as Wade jolts, silently screaming, huffing, beginning to hyperventilate and struggle against the chair best he could.

FffffUCK that hurt! He didn't remember such little fingers ever hurting that badly. Did it always burt that bad? Jesus christ! He needed out. He needed to escape. But he's already tried all his tricks. It only got him hurt more.

Again he hits him, slapping him with the back of his hand hard enough to bust his lip through the tape. The crimson that flooded his mouth made him flinch, gritting his teeth as he swallowed. It was agonizing. Each movement of his throat muscles was worse and worse, seeming almost paralyzed.

“Where do you think you'll go? Huh? You ain't going anywhere! And now look at what you've made me do!” He shouts, as Wade's head leans back, looking at him through his blonde eyelashes, exhausted, the vein they had in his arm pumping out what blood he was replenishing itself at snail speeds.

“You've made me ruin one of my best works yet… but that's okay. All good bitches break eventually. And then you'll be finally useful. The perfect soldier.”

What was it with people and the perfect soldier thing? Didn't the Winter Soldier already have this arc?? And didn't he already try to make him perfect in the first movie? God the writers are really getting lazy aren't they.. His eyes roll, and again he's hit, the sting running up his jaw and across his cheek, feeling the burn in his nose as it begins bleeding heavier.

“But no, you couldn't behave! So now you're going to die, alone, sitting in your own piss. What? Like anyone would actually come to save you?” he laughs. “You actually believe that? That anyone would actually care about you? You're disgusting. Fake skin and all, I know who you are underneath it all.”

Francis grabs his wrists, leaning forward. “Even your own mother couldn't love a face like that. Could she?”

‘He was probably right’, Wade thinks, feeling himself slipping away. His blood felt as if it were pouring out of him like a barrel of whiskey with holes shot through it.. Why didn't Francis just kill him already? He could easily shoot him. Get rid of him like the nasty scum he was.. but he didn't. He nee-

His mind switches to something else mid sentence in his head. A different voice taking over.

Whiskey… the smell of it stained on Logan's sweatshirts used to be the only thing that kept him sane, But now? It hurt too much to think about. It hurts too much to think about his loss. To think he would never smell that again...

If he thought about it anymore? Well, his heart was already about to die.. might as well go out thinking about that muscley hunk of Canadian. How gently he held him. How hot it was when he protected puppins from big dogs at the dog park or braided Laura's hair… how he loved him.

Truely.. loved him..

‘Never again, I fear’, Wade thinks and believes it brokenheartedly.

“Are you even listening to m-”

wwwwWWWOOOO

His head snapped towards the door, picking up a com as he clicked the button, walking away from Wade. Thank god. He was starting to worry that he'd kiss him. Ewww. He would never kiss someone named ‘francis’ or ‘ajax’ for that matter. Wade didn't like soap in his mouth.

“Turn that off! Now! What did I tell you morons abo-” There was shouting on the other end of the line before a scream. Something along the lines of ‘He's here’

“Who!? Who's here?- Doesn't matter. Shut the whole place down! Hello? God damn it-” he switched a line, the loud blaring of the alarm drowning him out. “Angel! What's going on up there? Hello!?? Why the fuck do I even pay you guys? For what?”

On the other line, there was shuffling, boots, shouting, “Find him!-”

The look on Francis’ face was golden. His little slave trade was getting busted. And Wade was physically chained to his seat to watch, death glaring daggers at him with the smallest, smuggest smirk under his tape, breathing through his nose heavily.

“This isn't over yet. Don't you even dare think I'm finished here! You Will obey me!”

The moment he ran out of the room to go save his research (or possibly abandon it), A rumble came from the wall.

Claws.

What? No. He was hallucinating again. His mind was so cruel to him now. Starved, dehydrated and exhausted, mentally physically and emotionally, you name it.

Leaning his head back against the chair, he sighs, watching as an imaginary Wolverine came through the wall, panting, snarling, feral. Like an animal hunting its prey.

The amount of dust and mold that came from the wall was enough to make him cough, and in an instant, Logan was at his side, tearing through the chains.

Damn.. He'd have to give the imagination team some props upstairs. This seemed way too real. The way the red lights flashed over his eyes made him look so pissed, his frantic worry in those blue eyes, the struggle in his voice to keep from crying as his nose twitched. He was sniffing him...he didn't recognize him…

His mouth opened to mutter something.

What was he saying? ‘Oh- hey! Stop shaking me!’ Is what he wanted to say, only to realize that.. Hallucinations couldn't touch you.

His eyes widened, He had given up on being pretty but if that was the truth he wouldn't know how to survive. But he was anything but pretty right now, snot, tears, blood and piss covering him.

It was now that Logan yelled something, Directing some agents or.. police? It was hard to tell when He felt like the ground was trying to drag him down, gravity taking hold of him as he slouched over in the chair, still in too much pain to support himself.

“I need a code, Get me a collar code, NOW!” he read his lips, though, he could have Said “I saw an old get me a dollar cod now” but that didn't make much sense, Wade thought. Then again he wasn't thinking much at all right now.

When Logan finally ripped off both collars and all of the wiring/tubing, he looked like he would puke at the sight of him. Pushing his shoulders up against the back of the chair, his hands shaking, covered in blood and sweat, tears flooding his eyes.

Aw.. he didn't like seeing Logan cry. He was saying so many things, shouting at him angrily, hurt. Those big Atlantic eyes becoming a true ocean. A soft smile came to his bruised and busted lips, staring at him so fondly, sympathetic. He missed Logan.. he missed him so much that his eyes stung just from seeing him. His love was so heavy, weights he could never escape in a room full of quicksand.

Wade opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“Wade! Answer me! What did you take? What did he give you!? Honey, look at me! Please! Tell me, tell me anything! Wade!-” he shakes him again.

“Tell me what you took, Wade look at me, Tell me what'd you take? Wilson!.. please.. talk to me. Answer me, Wade!” He shouts.

He flinches. Hard.

“Oh… sweetheart....What did he do to you..?” His voice cracks, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek but Wade's hand comes up to hit it away, trying to instinctively turn away into the chair, hiding. He looked so.. terrified. Like he didn't know who he was.

Something about this sends Logan into a rage, growling loudly and snarling towards the door where he ran off. He stands, hairs on his body raised, eyes glazed over with blind hatred.

Just before he runs to shred the man who did this to his husband, He grabs him.

Shaking from weakness and fear, in that chair sat a man he barely knew, eyes as blue as his own, blonde hair growing to look like a buzz cut. So thin. So weak. His neck was burned, his nose was bleeding down his chin, his lip joining in, his black eye almost swollen shut, deep yellow and purple bruising on his rib cage, hand prints on his throat, internal bleeding in his gut. He could tell by the smell of him. That and the massive pooling that shown on his stomach.

His fingers were gripping on Logan's shirt, and tight from the looks of it.

As tight as his remaining strength would let him.

The pleading look in his eye's begged him not to go. Begged him never to leave his side ever again. Such big eyes.. such desperation.. so much pain.

Grunting, Logan points to the door. “DON'T let him get away or I'm coming after YOU!” he growls, watching as all of the remaining soldiers run out the room, leaving Logan with Wade. And Wade with Logan.

No one else mattered now.

Sitting in front of him, Logan held his hands, suddenly panicking. “Wade!” He shouted, squeezing his hand. It was cold.

Where were they? Alaska? Canada? No.. not Canada. If this was Canada he would have to move to a new city and teach himself how to die, how to bury a memory as his life was burying his own with each passing moment.

“Wade? Stay with me. Come on, Just be strong a little longer! Please- You can't leave me again!!” He shouts at the top of his water filled lungs, but Wade can't see anything. He couldn't feel anything either except the cold concrete against his naked stomach as everything disappears.

Heh… funny.. the one time God answered his prayers… When he said he wished he could see Logan again before he died, he didn't mean this.

As did everyone eventually.. as Logan was destined to.

This wasn't how he wanted to go out but.. he was pretty sure that Fate had lost her patience with him.

And so.. that's it... that's the final bell. Close the curtains.. roll the credits.. This movie's over. No post credit scene.

Just…

The End

[redsrooftopprincess]

SOBBINF I LOVE YOUR DISABILITY HEADCANONS SO MUCH,, MIKEY'S IS A STRAIGHT PUNCH TO THE GUT <33

May I possibly request reader x Mikey where they find out how he copes and helps make him feel more comfortable? Maybe they find him stoned and snuggles are just exactly what he needs at the moment? Possibly even attempting to help him through his unhealthier coping mechanisms? Bonus points if reader has depression as well!

Of course, no rush and you totally don't gotta do this if you don't want!! Headcanons or one-shot would be rad either way, if you are interested in this req!

Your writing is just so real and I love it so much oml. You are doing AMAZING (in general- as a fanfic writer as well I understand the effort that goes into this stuff and maintaining a regular life ontop of it) and thank you for all your hard work!!

I hope this is okay! 😅

Crushed

Warnings: Drugs/Alcohol, Inebriation

"That's what this is, isn't it? A drive by?" he says, standing, and putting his clothes back on. 

You're on the couch in the club's green room, after the best sex of your life. The party ended hours ago, and in your E induced haze, you'd taken his hand and dragged him down here. 

"What? No! Why would you-?" You swing your legs over the side of the couch and walk over to him a little unsteadily, "Mike, no..." He doesn't look up at you. "I mean... is that what you want it to be?" You ask, hesitantly.

"That's what it is," he says simply.

You swallow and inhale, tears threatening.

He finishes putting on his belt and looks up at you, he tries to ignore the tears in your eyes. Regret, that's all it is, that you ever let him touch you. It didn't matter, it was almost sunrise, "That's what it is," he repeats, "That's always what it is."

You hear it, the bitterness, the acceptance in his voice. He just doesn't have it in him to hide it tonight. It breaks your heart. "Michaelangelo, please..." 

"Look, it's almost morning. I gotta get back underground. I'll see you Wednesday," he said, not really sounding like he was looking forward to the next party. He leaves before you can protest further. 

He knows what you're going to say. He's a great guy, but he's not exactly normal, you know? He's not exactly someone you can bring home to meet the folks. And he really doesn't need to hear it. He gets it. He does. And he feels like shit would be a lot easier if he didn't. If he didn't know *exactly* how unwanted he is. Only good for a good trip, and a decent fuck, if you're feeling adventurous. He snatches a bottle off the empty bar as he makes his way out into the alley. 

It had to be you tonight. He already hadn't been in the best place when the party started, so there was no resistance when you took his hand. On a good day, you could lead him into hell, and he'd follow with a smile on his face. On a night like tonight, he'd thank you. You're friends, but in these circles the line between friend and lover blurs easily. You've slept together a number of times and he always leaves right after. You mean everything to him, so he'd let you do anything to him. Use him however you like. As long as he doesn't have to hear you let him down easy.

You dress quickly. You know what's happening. It keeps happening. He's shutting down. Shutting you out. He assumes you got what you wanted, end of transaction, and honestly the sex was great, it's *always* great, but what you want is him. Not sex. And your not letting him run away. Not this time.

You follow him down into the sewers, and find him sitting against the wall of one of the tunnels, knees curled up to his chest and tears staining the fabric beneath his eyes. You startle him and he tries to get up to face whatever might be attacking him, but stumbles, drunk. 

He sits back down once he realizes it's you. Now everything is so much worse. He never wanted you to see him like this. He didn't need you to feel bad for him. You ask him what's wrong and he doesn't want to talk about it. You say that's okay, and move the bottle out of reach, sitting next to him. 

You sit together in silence for a few minutes. You're terrified that saying the wrong thing will send him running from you faster. 

"Mike-" 

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" He gets up to leave, taking the bottle with him, and has to catch himself on the wall when he sways. 

You sigh and stand, but don't move to follow him, "Why not?"

"Because there's no point." 

"Why not?"

"Because you..." He looks at you and his heart clenches, he sighs, "forget it." He stumbles a few steps away and stops with a heavy sigh, "I can pretend all I want, and so can the rest of you, like I'm normal... I'm not," he turns around to look at you, his face a mask of escalating pain and injustice as his fists clench tight, "I'm not. I'm not normal. I'll never be normal..." he shakes his head with a sickening smirk, "It's just a game. Everyone gets dressed up to be freaks for a night and we dance and drink and trip and fuck, and at the end of the night, everyone else gets to stop playing and go home because they can. But I can't take the costume off," he says, grabbing his plastron where it meets his chest, "This isn't fucking make up. I can't even walk around in the FUCKING DAYLIGHT!!!" He roars, hurling the bottle he's holding against the wall of the tunnel, a shard of glass ricochets back and cuts his cheek. "I'm not a person. I'm the fucking party mascot." He spits, venomously,

You take a step forward, "Mike, you know that's not true." 

Bitter laughter echoes in the enclosed space. "Funny. That's... That's funny. Really. Because I've been coming to these parties, meeting people, for seven years now. I've watched *seventeen* people end up just like Sarah and Ben." Your friends had been celebrating their engagement tonight, Michaelangelo had introduced them at a party three years ago. 

"I don't get to have that... I'll *never* get to have that," he chokes, "even as a joke. Honestly, at this point I'd take a joke. I'm already pretending to be a person, wouldn't be that hard of a jump to pretend to be loved, too. I'd just have to find someone willing to lie to me..."

He trails off and the silence that hangs in the air once the echoes of his voice fades is heavy and oppressive. 

"Like I said, there's no fucking point..." He turns around and starts walking down the tunnel towards home, one hand on the wall for support. "Don't worry, I'll be back to all smiles by Wednesday. We can pretend like this never happened. This doesn't have to be a thing and you don't have to pretend whether or not it matters if I'm okay." He hears you take a step toward him, "Go home, Y/N," he calls back without turning around. 

Fine. If he's going to leave anyway, you have nothing to lose. "No." 

"Okay, fine," he sighs continuing down the tunnel, "do whatever you want." 

"Okay," you say, simply, as you begin to follow him. 

He stops, shoulders tight, face toward the ceiling, and sighs heavily, "What are you doing?"

"Whatever I want?" you reply, closing the distance. 

He turns to face you, tired and hurting. If you want to go another round, he isn't exactly in a place where he can say no. At the very least, he could use the dopamine. He used to imagine it would be different with you. He should have known better. Jaw tight, he sighs before reaching for his belt.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he thinks you're implying, your heart shattering all over again. You bring your hand up to rest gently on his, stilling his movements. His eyes meet yours. Hesitant. Guarded. Unsure of what you're playing at. Your hand tightens gently around his as you step forward, and he tenses as if he might run. 

You reach up, and pull him down into your arms. He stiffens for a moment, he's already hanging on by a thread, but he can't help it, it's you. Instinct takes over, wrapping his arms around you and buying his face in your hair. 

You feel his grip tighten as the dam breaks, and despite his best efforts at keeping his shit under control, a ragged sob rips through him. 

You hold him as he cries, moving the two of you back to sitting against the tunnel wall. Eventually, the tears dry up, and he pulls himself away. He quiet for a long time, and looks down at his hands in his lap. He can't even look at you, ashamed and embarrassed. You didn't deserve that. To feel obligated to take care of him. You have better shit to do than this.

You reach up and twist one of the tails off his mask around your fingers, tugging once, gently. It draws his attention, and he meets your eyes, begrudgingly. You reach up and wipe the blood from his cheek, meeting his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry, I..."

You hush him gently and sit up on your knees. Taking his face in your hands, you bring him down to you, kissing his forehead. 

He doesn't get it. Why are you being so nice to him. You got what you wanted, why did you follow him? Why are you comforting him? Why do you even care? He looks at you in bewilderment. 

"Tell you what," you say, "I'm not super comfortable with the idea of leaving you alone right now, and it's going to rain, and I don't want to get flooded out down here, so... What do you say we head back to my place. I can order us a pizza, and we can watch a movie, and you can head home once you're feeling a bit more sober stable..." You smile, you hope persuasively. 

"Yeah... Okay..." He says, as you help him to his feet. You aren't wrong. It is going to rain, and as fucked up as he is, traversing this set of tunnels in particular will be a little iffy if the storm drains start to flood. 

You bring him home. You do exactly as you say. Pizza. Movie. Ice cream for good measure. He's not sure what to do. He's usually the one doing the entertaining, and now here you are making sure he was happy and comfortable. 

It takes time, but by the end of the movie, Mikey's mostly sobered up, both physically and emotionally. You even get a genuine smile out of him as sunrise looms and he begins to make his way out. 

"So... thanks... for this," he says, looking at you softly. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

You smile, walking him to the window. "Anytime," you say, taking his hand and turning to face him as you come to the window, "and I mean that. Next time you get into that headspace will you do me a favor and try to reach for a phone instead of a bottle?" 

He smirks, nodding, "no promises, but I'll try."

"Thank you," you say as he reaches for the window. You touch his arm, gently "hey, one last thing," he steps back from the window to face you, and you stand up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. It's simple, sweet, honest, "there's no reason you can't have what Sarah and Ben have," you whisper, before pulling away. 

He freezes. He's misunderstood. There's no way you're saying what it sounds like your saying, because it's what he wants you to be saying, so there's no *way* it could actually be what you're saying... Right?

You watch the torrent of emotions play out in his eyes, and you reach up to tug n on his mask. "Sunrise, Sunshine." You say. 

"Sunrise..." He repeats before he blinks, shaking his head, "Right. Yeah. Sunrise. I, uh, I'll see you -

"Wednesday."

"Tomorrow."

You say at the same time, before you laugh nervously under his gaze, "If, you know, you're not busy." You don't want to have to wait until Wednesday.

Hope flickers in his eyes. It's tiny and buried under so much hurt and insecurity, but it's definitely there, "I, uh, yeah... I mean, I gotta work, but I'll be wrapping up around two... so, if you're still up..."

"I'll be up," you say quickly, and he can't help but smile as both of your faces grow warm and you laugh gently. 

"Okay... I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says quietly, almost in disbelief. Is this... What? What is this? He doesn't know, but it feels... better. Warm. Comforting. The things you said, the things you did for him tonight, this... He wants more of this. He'll do whatever he has to to have more of this. 

You can't help the grin that brightens your face. "Until tomorrow, then," you say, and kiss him one last time before he slips out into the desaturated predawn light, and is gone. 

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[bumblesimagines]

i'm going to scream.

did you two have a nice chat?

are we really doing this now?

Kiara Carrera

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: None!

Tell a friend to tell a friend... I'm backkkkkk

"I'm going to scream."

Sarah huffed out a chuckle, brown eyes peeking over the magazine in hand to eye her friend as Kiara made her way over to the counter. The scowl on her face spoke volumes and Sarah only had to peer at the dock to locate the source of Kiara's irritation. There, standing on the dock by one of the boats, stood (Y/N) and a vaguely familiar girl. Everything about the girl's body language screamed flirtatious but (Y/N) either remained oblivious or ignored it in favor of continuing the conversation. 

"You know her?" Sarah asked, leaning back in her chair and resting the magazine on her chest to focus her full attention on Kiara as the brunette aggressively tidied up the area around their register. Kiara gave a hearty scoff, her eyes rolling so hard Sarah wondered if it hurt before she rounded the counter to stand beside her. 

"Of course, I do." Kiara groaned. "Back when (Y/N) and I still worked together, she'd come in almost every day just to talk to him. Mom thought it was so cute and romantic but it was just a pain in the ass! And now she's popping over here too? She doesn't even fish! Nobody in her family fishes! Her dad owns a convenience store!" 

Sarah snorted and quickly clamped her teeth into her lip to avoid the snickers from flowing out. Kiara shook her head, her brows tightly knitted and her lips pulled taut into a frown. It'd been amusing for the pogues (borderline became entertainment at one point) to watch the fierce rivalry between Kiara and (Y/N) take an abrupt turn into obvious feelings. Sarah lost count of the number of times she teased Kiara over it, cooing in her ear until Kiara swatted at her with burning cheeks while JJ and John B egged (Y/N) on. It'd only taken a devious plan from Cleo to finally push Kiara into confessing. 

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath new weight, drawing their attention onto (Y/N) as he stepped into their little shop, his smile immediately greeting them only to falter when he took in his girlfriend's expression. Sarah rose from her chair, carefully and slowly closing the magazine as Kiara folded her arms over her chest and arched a challenging brow.

"Did you two have a nice chat?" Straight to the point with a sharp tone, typical Kie. Kiara had never been one to sugarcoat things, much less beat around the bush when something bothered her. It'd been one of the many traits they all loved about her. "It's crazy how she came in here asking about so much and then left with- how much exactly, Sarah?" 

"Uh," Sarah cleared her throat and lifted her chin. "Nothing."

"Yeah, nothing."

(Y/N) stared at them, the confusion on his face melting away into a bemused quirk of his lips. "Are we really doing this now? Like, right now, in front of Sarah and whoever else stops by?" His brows lifted, only offering a soft scoff when Kiara jutted her hip out and placed her hand over it. "You're unbelievable, Kiara. Don't you ever get tired of being annoying?"

"Don't you ever get tired of pissing me off?"

"It's part of my charm, babe. It's why you love me." 

In an instant, all the fiery emotions that accumulated vanished, leaving behind a flustered smile and a half-hearted eye-roll. "Yeah, well," She cleared her throat. "You can use that charm and help me tend to the register where I can keep an eye on you."

Quirking a brow, Sarah glanced between the two of them. "You guys have a weird way of flirting."

[anon-sect]

Picture source: anonymous

Danny was really getting annoyed with his supervisor. Both him and Evan applied for the same job. He was more qualified for the position, but they end up picking Evan. He later found out that Evan got the position because of a secret bribe. He was so pissed off at that. To make things worse, Evan used his position to make work almost a living hell for him. He would give him way more task than others while the slackers got even less than before. He would sometimes give him near impossible deadlines to meet, knowing that would cause him to work a lot of late nights while he was out partying and having fun. It really got to a point he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to teach Evan a lesson that would equal the same amount of torture he gave him. He had the perfect idea of how to do it.

Evan arrived at Danny's office after he refused to meet one of the near impossible deadlines. "You know I could have you fired, but I might give you a second chance." Evan spoke with a twisted grin.

Danny was waiting for to come to his office. "I have the finished report here. Just take a look." He spoke as he turned the computer screen toward Evan. He took out his phone and set up the TF Pro app out of view of Evan.

Evan looked at the computer screen and saw nothing but an empty page. He was about to ask what that was about when he saw a flash from Danny's phone. There was an instant change of view. He was in a different form and could not move or speak. He had a limited view form what his new form was. He could hear Danny close his office door. "I turned you into boots. My partner loves boots. I am going to gift you to him for a while. It will be long enough for them to hire a new more qualified supervisor." He heard Danny laughing as he was placed in shoe box and the top put on it. He was trapped in the dark as his fate was already determined without his consent.

The next time Evan saw daylight was the top was removed. He heard Danny's voice, and he was talking with another guy.

"What do you think of them, babe?" Danny asked his partner Valin. He watched as Valin took out the boots and examined them.

"They look perfect. Where did you get them?" Valin asked as he continued to examine them.

"My supervisor had bought them, but they didn't fit his feet, so he thought you might be able to make use of them." Danny answered back, knowing full well that Evan was hearing every word. He smirked at that thought.

"Tell him I appreciate this. I have been wanting knew boots to wear. And the way they fell makes me want to wear them nearly every day." Valin spoke as he hugged his partner.

Evan was mentally screaming at both of them. He didn't want to be worn on his feet every day. He didn't even want to be boots at all. He watched in horror as a dingy white socked foot entered one boot and pressed down on his insole face. He had to endure the same scene as Valin put on the other boot. Valin did a couple of stomps and began to walk around in him. The dingy white sock had a strong odor to it. He so wanted to get away from them so badly. The pressure of being walked on made his insole face experience extreme pain, nothing like he had ever felt before. Each step was pain renewed over and over.

Danny watched as Valin walked around the room in his new boots, simply enjoying how they felt on his feet. The thought that poor Evan was being walked on without a single thought from his owner made him smile. He really must be suffering under my partner's feet; he thought to himself. Serves him right, he also thought.

For a straight two weeks, Evan found himself subjected to Valin's feet every day. Valin wore him to work, out shopping and hanging out with friends and his partner. Sometimes, Valin wore clean socks and other times, it was dirty and smelly socks. After a few days, he had already developed a strong foot odor from Valin's foot sweat. Every speck of material on the inside reeked of his owner's feet. He was really sorry now how he had treated Danny at work. Experiencing the excruciating pain every day as his face was an insole and smelling like Valin's feet all the time was torture beyond measure. All he wanted now was for Danny to turn him back to normal. He promised he would be a better supervisor if he did so.

ONE MONTH AFTER TRANSFORMATION....

Danny came back home smiling and exicted. "I finally got the supervisor position that I have been filing in for the past month, babe. They finally made it permanent." He hugged Valin. He looked down to notice he was still wearing his special boots he gave him, even after a whole month.

"Congratulations, babe. You deserve it. Especially after putting up with that ass hole of a supervisor for so long." Valin spoke as they both sat down on the couch.

"You know, I have been hiding a secret from you the past thirty days." Danny spoke, rubbing his partner's legs.

"Oh and what's that?" Valin asked as rubbed around Danny's neck, looking into his eyes.

"You remember my ass hole of a supervisor and how he suddenly went missing?" Danny paused as he kissed Valin on the lips. "Well, he technically wasn't missing. I know exactly where he has been the past thirty days.' he added, smiling with glee.

"Where," Valin asked him, being curious now.

"On your feet. I turned him into a pair of new boots and gifted him to you until I got the position." Danny smiled back, looking down at his partner's boots.

Valin looked down at his boots as well. He was silent for a moment to really think about that. "Are you really serious?" He finally asked. He saw Danny nodding back in affirmation of his question. "No wonder they felt so good on my feet."

"But now that I have the position, I can change him back now." Danny spoke, but to open the TF Pro App on his phone.

"No, you will not. I like my boots; babe and I want to keep them." Valin paused, wiggling his toes in his boots. "They are the most comfortable footwear I ever owned. Besides, you gave them to me. It's my choice of what happens to them, right?" Valin tried to reason with his partner. He really wanted to keep his boots, despite knowing the truth now.

Danny thought about it. "Okay, if you want to keep the boots, I will let you." He deleted the reverse data from the app. "But you know fully about the boots, now. Yet, you still want to keep them." He added.

Valin nodded. "That doesn't matter. He is my property to do with as I pleased ever since you gave him to me." Both of them laughed at that remark.

Evan mentally cried, hearing the whole conversation. Valin had completely decided to keep him as his boots and Danny got his job. He now was nothing but a pair of boots for the rest of his life and no one was going to change that.

[warblogs17282]

Have some more reasons why I think Moxxie and Stolas have the potential to become friends at some point.

Daddy Issues - Having your life already be decided for you.

Moxxie was the child of the leader of the mob family, Crimson.

From when Moxxie was young, Crimson made sure to show Moxxie that if he ever disobeyed him, that he would kill Moxxie, effectively forcing Moxxie into the mob life, forcing Moxxie into the life he has planned out for him.

And well, the episode makes it pretty clear for multiple reasons why Moxxie hated being forced into the mob life, but I think the moment in the prison is the best example I can show you all. The scene where Moxxie is happy and grateful towards Blitz because Blitz is saving him from Crimson, because Blitz is saving him from being thrown right back into the mob life once again.

"Once I got out, I never looked back."

Moxxie never looked back in the direction of the mob life.

As for Stolas, he's the son of the king Paimon, born into the Goetia family as a prince.

"it is finally your day of becoming a true part of the Goetia family."

"Would that distract you enough from your non-negotiable future marriage?"

"Also, son, you are destined to sire a precautionary addition to the Goetia family. So, you are now engaged."

Paimon's usage of the word destined can tell us that this was planned out in advance, and the usage of 'true part of the Goetia family' makes me feel like Stolas wouldn't be considered a 'true part of the Goetia family' if he refused to marry Stella, if he refused to sire a precautionary addition to the Goetia family. We don't exactly know what consequences that would entail for Stolas, but I can only imagine that the consequences would be quite bad.

Which in turn, effectively puts Stolas under metaphorical gunpoint to do his duties, marry Stella and sire a precautionary addition to the Goetia family. Therefore, having his life already decided for him, and his father forcing him into this life he's planned out as well, especially considering Paimon literally says that the future marriage is non-negotiable.

And well, it's very clear that Stolas doesn't want to marry Stella, just look at how Stolas reacts to seeing the picture of Stella.

Which gets me nicely onto my next section,

Daddy Issues part 2 - Arranged/Forced Marriages.

Now sure while the forced marriage to Chaz ended up falling through big time, and that Moxxie is married to the person he loves, Moxxie still had a brush with an arranged/forced marriage in s2 e3.

Crimson is quite literally physically forcing Moxxie to marry Chaz here, because at this point, Crimson still thinks the marriage will benefit him and the mob he runs.

And well, I just explained that Paimon put Stolas under a metaphorical gunpoint to marry Stella, aka, forcing Stolas to marry Stella, to go through with the arranged marriage to be a 'true part of the Goetia family'. With the benefit to the Goetia family and Paimon being the birth of a precautionary heir.

Again, this line from Paimon.

"Would that distract you enough from your non-negotiable future marriage?"

Daddy Issues Part 3 - Physical Abuse

It's pretty clear that Moxxie was most likely physically abused by Crimson, mainly because as both a child and an adult, Crimson just straight up grabs Moxxie's face to force Moxxie to look at him while he's speaking, there's other things that point to Moxxie likely being a victim of physical abuse, but this and the thing I'm about to show you are the bests examples I have.

There's also Crimson threatening to kill Moxxie if he disobeys him, but that's something I've already talked about in this post, so let's head to my next example.

In the flashback, we see Crimson literally committing domestic violence against Moxxie's mother, and Moxxie also witnesses this as well. With this further showing that Crimson is very much willing to commit physical abuse in order to make people stay in line.

While we don't exactly know how present Paimon was in Stolas' life (although everything points to him being almost never present in Stolas' life so far), what we do know is that Paimon is also quick to hit Stolas to keep him in line, with Paimon hitting Stolas on his head because he bowed to an imp, someone much lower than him in the hierarchy.

Plus, it's been made quite clear to us that Stolas was also the victim of domestic violence at the hands of Stella for years upon years, with Stella's reaction to Stolas catching her hand during this scene being all the proof we need of that claim.

Generally Absent Mothers.

Moxxie used to have his mother in his life as a child, but other than a few flashbacks and a painting, the show makes no mention of her, and I believe this is because she was murdered by Crimson.

I want you to look at her shoes during this scene.

And at a later point of the flashback sequence, a shoe floats up that appears to match (although the black lines on the bowtie of the shoe are different between these two scenes, but that's probably just an animation thing) pretty much perfectly, making the theory that Crimson killed Moxxie's mother pretty likely to me.

As for Stolas, we don't exactly know anything about Stolas' mother yet, but she hasn't been seen or been mentioned at all, so at this point in time I'm guessing she was just never in Stolas' life.

Finally, we have,

Gaining the courage to stand up to their abusers.

So in conclusion, while Moxxie and Stolas have had very different lives and upbringings, I do believe that there's quite a few common points between Moxxie and Stolas that I've just mentioned they could relate to each other about, which could be a factor in Moxxie and Stolas becoming friends at some point down the line, if the show chooses to go down that route.

Of course there's also the fact that Moxxie likes musicals and Stolas would be likely to also enjoy musicals as well, giving them an activity they could both enjoy together, but I've mentioned that plenty of times before so I'm not mentioning it here.

[luminique]

kissing lighter’s scars while laying in bed together.. thoughts?

yes. the biggest reason i don’t write it is because i literally am in love with wriothesley and it’s like the exact same concept so i don’t know whether to write for lighter or wrio. BUT SINCE THIS IS AN ASK, I SHALL DELIVERRR !!

lighter doesn’t get many scars now compared to his time in those underground fighting rings. he doesn’t even show them off, choosing to be almost fully covered up. so on one particularly warm night in blazewood, he couldn’t handle the heat and took off his top, the scars now on full display.

i don’t think he particularly wants to acknowledge it either as it is a past he seems to want to depart from. however, the way your eyes follow its shapes, it’s clear that you’ve got something more on your mind.

“why’re you staring like that?” he was one to be rather straight to the point, clearly speaking his thoughts out without filtering them first. his smooth voice cut through your train of thought as he makes his way to you on the bed.

“hm? oh, you’ve got a lot more scars than i imagined,” you say so nonchalantly, a light blush on his face now. you’ve imagined this before? you’ve imagined him and his body before? he can’t help but smirk to himself after knowing that. he gets under the sheets, letting the blanket loosely cover him due to the warmth.

you got a little closer to him. it was becoming difficult for him to tell whether his body was feeling hot from the weather, the blanket or from you. your hands gently traced the edge of his scar on his shoulder, sending light shivers up his spine.

“can i kiss them?” your voice was so soft but it didn’t negate the fact that his eyes were wide from hearing you ask that. he stuttered, trying to give a response but words couldn’t come out and instead just nods to you.

he could feel your breath on his skin, warm and ticklish. it wasn’t before long that you’d begin placing small kisses along the scar. if he wasn’t blushing before this, he was definitely all red in the face now. “relax, i’m not going to bite you.” you tell him with a smirk on your face, knowing that he was getting a little tense. he could barely think of any words to say and even if he did, they’d make no sense at all.

since he has made it clear previously that he doesn’t want to talk much about his past, you decide to not ask him about it. instead, letting your kisses do the talking for you, reminding him that you still love him despite everything he has been through.