#made this ages ago but finally colored it for my reference

[prijune]

Silly kitties and their owner...Owner.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin’ Way To Start The Day

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy,

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The morning begins the same way it always does, with your neighbor Mike blasting "I Will Always Love You" in his apartment at exactly 8 am just as he had each day since you met two years ago. It was the only constant in your life, but at least you didn't have to use an alarm clock anymore. The sound of Mike belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs was enough to wake everyone in the whole building, including the people on the eighth floor, five stories above him.

But because Mike bought the super’s probably illegally made cologne and because the super was dating Mike’s mother, something that made you regret supe hearing very much, it never stopped despite the numerous complaints.

Then again it was Annie's favorite thing about sleeping over, she liked to scream the lyrics back at the wall and jump on your bed like a crazy banshee. Honestly you hoped that it would stop after Ben had pretended to be your boyfriend, that Mike would finally figure it out and give up.

Guess not.

You sit up in your bed, stretching your hands over your head while humming the chorus under your breath, but you were more of an ABBA fan. If Mike had decided to serenade you with "Take A Chance On Me" or even Aretha Franklin's "You're All I Need to Get By," you might have looked at him differently.

The memory of the dream of his mullet smothering you in your sleep momentarily passes over your mind, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. Or maybe not.

Your bedroom was similar to your living room, covered in plants. Trailing jasmine and bougainvillea blanketed the wall behind your bed in deep red and white, budding lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle sat in pots along the top of your dresser, and a blush colored rose bush, that never went out of bloom, stood proudly in the corner. The only difference was that there were two large piles of books almost as tall as your ceiling, some old some new, braced beside the rose bush like Roman columns. You kept trying to remember to buy a bookshelf, but each time you thought about going to pick one up, Butcher usually called and asked you to help out. Both piles were covered almost completely in pothos and more hung from the brick walls above your only window, that opened the floor length pale yellow curtains with a flick of your hand.

An annoyed purring sound greets your ears as the honeyed light from the now open window wisps over your covers. Bean, your cat, stalks up from the end of the bed, his yellowed eyes narrowed with annoyance at being woken up so early while his charcoal gray coat turns lighter in the brilliant sunlight. Last night he had been in your bedroom when you got home, which meant that he hadn't been around Ben when he came in.

A good thing, because Bean hated just about everyone except Butcher, which you thought was weird. But whenever Butcher dropped by to talk to you Bean always came over to look for rubs, while hissing at anyone who tried to interrupt them. Hughie was actually afraid of Bean, and because Bean was a cat he immediately picked up on this and purposely would jump on the couch next to Annie so Hughie couldn't sit there, Bean also followed after Hughie to the bathroom and waited outside the door to swipe at his ankles whenever he would come out.

But you didn't love him any less.

He puts his paw on your thigh lightly extending his claws to get your attention.

"Oh are you talking to me now?" You smile, rubbing him behind the ears. "I thought you were angry because I woke you up?"

He purrs and pushes his chunky gray head against your hand, but startles when the song switches to "My Heart Will Go On" which causes Mike's mother to join in to his karaoke session.

I'd move if my apartment wasn't so damn cheap.

"Maybe they should take the show on the road. Huh buddy?"

Bean purrs his response while pushing his head further into your hand.

His mom wasn't that bad of a singer, in fact, you thought that you remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between her and the super when she talked about a career as a cabaret singer a while ago.

"Come on, let's see if Gramps killed any of my plants." You smile down at your cat. "If he did I'm going to turn him into a tree."

Bean purrs in agreement.

You get out of bed, adjusting your shirt back down over your shorts before walking to the door with Bean following behind you. You step out into the cool hallway, with more enthusiasm than usual as you try to escape the butchering of the Titanic's soundtrack and collide into something warm and wet.

It takes you exactly seven seconds to realize that the warm, wet, thing that your face is currently stuck to, is in-fact Ben's chest, his shirtless chest. Why he's standing in the hallway outside your door, soaking wet and wearing a towel you have no idea. All you know is that your face is physically laying against the warm flesh of his pectoral muscles.

"Why are you NAKED?" You scream as you peel yourself off of him and turn your gaze away. Your face felt so warm that it was like you'd been standing in front of a volcano for too long and you were sure that you had blushed to the roots of your hair.

You'd only seen him without his shirt on once, when the door to his bedroom was cracked at the apartment he shared with the rest of the group. But it was from the back and you had been walking by to go to the bathroom, and you hadn't looked…

Well, you may have stopped for a second to admire the powerful muscles on his muscular back and maybe thought about waiting for him to turn around so you could see if the front was as good as the back… but you hadn't.

And he certainly hadn't been soaking wet then, and it made you hate him more now, because no one should look as good as he does soaking wet. You personally knew that you looked like a drowned poodle whenever you stepped out of the shower, but him? Soldier Boy looks like he just finished filming a shampoo commercial.

You could see it in your head, him standing under a crystal blue waterfall with the water splashing against weathered rocks before running through his soft brown hair, curving around his broad shoulders, down his toned stomach straight down to his-

NO. Not gonna go there. You could feel your skin heating in embarrassment, almost as if you thought he could read your mind.

"I'm not naked doll, I mean I could be if you wanted me to." He smirks as he hears your heartbeat begin to pick up and reaches for the end of his towel. The towel that was almost too small to wrap around his waist and left very little to the imagination.

"NO!" You shout holding up a hand to stop him, but again brush the front of his chest.

Fuck, you could zest a lemon on those abs.

"Are you sure?" Ben smiles wider, taking a step forward. He's so close that you can smell your grapefruit mint shampoo on him and feel the humidity and warmth of his body as he stands there. For some reason the fact that he used your shampoo, and smelled like your soap, made you feel warm and tingly. It was almost hypnotic. You hated how much you liked it. "Because you're turning that cute little red color you always do whenever I'm around, and your heartbeat is kinda fast."

"No. I don't." You grit your teeth together. "Why are you standing outside of my door naked?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you to come out." His hand presses against the doorway next to your head. "You know, I already took a shower, but if you wanted I'd be happy to get back in with you."

"No thanks. I don't need a shower and I wouldn't shower with you if it was the last shower on earth and I hadn't bathed in forty years." You purse your lips. "Oh right, that happened to you."

Ben frowns at your mention of his time in Russia. You didn't often tease him about being trapped in a lab, you knew that it was a sore spot for him. Plus you'd seen the footage of exactly what those doctors did to him and it was enough to make you want to book a one way ticket to Russia and personally show them what happened when a tree got shoved up your ass.

You open your mouth to apologize.

"I was going to ask if you have any other clothes here. Mine are still wet from last night." He raises an eyebrow, but the humor is gone from his eyes.

"Oh. Um. I can take a look." You turn and walk into your bedroom, trying not to feel awkward about bringing up the lab.

He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve a reminder of how shitty the last forty years have been.

Truthfully, you weren't sure if you had anything that would fit him. Ben was a lot bigger than you, taller and broader. You usually did wear things that were a little big for you, but you didn't think that Ben would fit in any of them.

Maybe I have something from when my brother was here last time.

Darren often dropped by when he was in the city visiting his friends or had a new "business" venture. The ones that never seemed to last and the friends that always seemed happy to spend the moan you "loaned" him for his "best idea yet" as he always phrased it. But he hadn't been by in at least a year.

"It's really green in here too." You hear Ben say under his breath.

You didn't think that he was going to follow you into your room, you thought he was going to stay in the hallway, but no, he had followed you. And he made the room feel even smaller than it was with his broad shoulders and over six foot stature.

The sunlight from the window glinted off his still wet chest and it made your throat uncomfortably tight. For the love of chocolate pudding, WHY does he look so good all the time?

"You can wait in the hall-"

"Wanted to see your bedroom." He smirks. "Though I think that you wanted to show it to me last night-"

You ignore him and turn back to your chest of drawers while Mike and his mother switch to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. You wince as they begin.

"Do they always do that?" Ben asks.

"Yep. Since I moved in." You sigh, shuffling through your t-shirts.

"He's really got it bad Sweetheart. Maybe you should throw him a bone. Kinda seems like the poor guy needs to get some ass-"

"If it's any of your business- which it's not- I do not like him that way."

"Well they're a little loud." You feel Ben take a step closer to you. "But I bet you and I could give them a run for their money. We are in your bedroom after all, might as well make the most of it."

"I didn't know that you liked Karaoke. I'll keep that in mind for you 105th birthday party."

"What? No I meant-"

Bean purrs loudly from his position on your bed and you wait for the telltale sound of Ben shooing him away when Bean tries to puncture Ben's impenetrable skin with his claws, but it doesn't come.

You glance over your shoulder. Are you kidding me?

Bean is sitting on your white plush comforter, rubbing up against Ben's hand, purring while Ben scratches him behind the ears.

Traitor.

"Didn't know you had a cat." Ben says continuing to stroke his hand down Bean's spine, who stands up and turns so Ben can have a better angle.

"I didn't peg you for a cat person. Kinda ruins the whole all-American Man image you have going on."

He shrugs. "I like dogs more, but I don't hate cats. Usually they don't like me very much."

"I wonder why that is." You grumble watching Bean lean into Ben's hand again. "His name is Bean."

"Bean? Why?"

"Because when I got him I was trying to grow green beans in the linen closet and he would sit outside the door and screech until I gave him a green bean to play with."

"You were trying to grow green beans in the linen closet?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good idea, but they like the bathroom more-" You finally find the oversized Led Zeppelin shirt your brother left the last time he crashed at your apartment and a pair of jeans. "A lot of my plants like the bathroom more actually."

"I was going to ask you why the bathroom floor and wall was squishy."

"It's moss. It thrives in humid environments." You hold out the clothes for him.

"Uh-huh." He frowns at the clothes for a minute. "So you're saying you wouldn't want a guy to serenade you like that?" Ben nods his head towards your bedroom wall, just as Mike and his mother begin to belt out the chorus. "Thought girls liked sappy shit."

"I'm not a fan of One Direction."

"Right. You like ABBA more." Ben turns towards your door to go back to the bathroom to change.

Shock momentarily spikes in your chest. "How did you know that?"

He freezes as if you caught him doing something bad, turning slightly towards you. "Um- well, you hum their songs a lot."

"When?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Whenever you're on stake outs. Sometimes when you're reading those files or waiting for Annie at the apartment." He shrugs. “When you were walking last night you were humming ‘Fernando.’"

He noticed that?

"How long exactly were you following me?"

"Long enough." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to keep me talking because you want me to change in here? Because I would be more than happy to drop this towel and show you what a real man looks like Sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself Gramps. If you drop that towel the only thing that'll happen is Bean will think you brought him a green bean to play with." You roll your eyes. "Now get out of my room. I have to change."

Ben begins to say something, but the vines hanging above the door push him out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

That felt good.

After you put on a white t-shirt, your favorite pair of jean overalls and your dark green converse, you make your way out into the living room. Ben is there, lounging on your couch like he owns it. He’s wearing the jeans and t-shirt you gave him, but you can't help but notice how the clothes are just a little too small for him. The way his muscles pull at the t-shirt, the way the jeans hug his thighs and butt-

He's getting way too comfortable here. You think to yourself to avoid the thought of how good he looks on your couch. How it almost feels natural that he's sitting here in your living room, inhabiting your space.

"So what's for breakfast doll face?" He leans his head back to gaze at you with a mischievous smile that makes a warm tingle travel down the length of your spine.

"Well, I'm going to have oatmeal and you're going to have whatever you want I guess?"

His eyes darken. "Whatever I want?"

"Calm down Gramps I meant that there's cereal in the cabinet." You roll your eyes to avoid thinking about the kiss last night and then thinking about how it felt for your body to be pressed against his in the hallway when you ran into him.  Which inevitably leads back to the waterfall fantasy and-

No. No. Not going to do that. Not with him. He's just good at getting women into bed, he doesn't care about you. You think about how he remembered that you liked ABBA. That doesn't mean anything. He doesn't see me as anything more than a conquest and he probably remembered that because he's changing tactics and trying not to act like a creep.

“You’re not going to pour me a bowl?” His smirk pulls down in an attractive pout.

“I think it’s simple enough for your little brain to do.” You don’t turn around from the kitchen cabinets, grabbing a raspberry from the refrigerator and popping it in your mouth. For some reason you noticed that whatever you grew tasted better than anything you bought at the grocery store. You hoped that it didn’t mean that your powers supercharged whatever you grew and that it was actually radioactive or something. 

Because that’s exactly what I need, to turn bright green. 

“There’s nothing little about me doll.” 

“Can’t you ever have a conversation with someone without it revolving around sex?” You grumble banging around in your cabinets to find your instant oatmeal. 

It was a valid point and you were tired of getting whiplash every time Ben acted caring and then flipping back to horny manchild.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben laughs. He stands from the couch and makes his way into your kitchen.

It was hard not to notice how small each room in your apartment looked with him in it. His head was only a foot below the ceiling, not to mention the kitchen was only composed of six cabinets, a small sink, a microwave shoved into a corner, a stove top, and a refrigerator that only came up to Ben’s shoulders. Your bathroom was worse, sometimes the shower was small even for you and you didn’t know how Ben fit in there. 

He probably had to duck down to stand under the shower head. 

And then as you thought that, the image of Ben standing under a waterfall comes creeping back, making the strawberry plant on top of the fridge, the raspberry vines, and the blackberry vines covering your refridgerator burst into bloom.

Thankfully Ben didn’t notice, because he was rooting through the white top cabinet in the corner for one of the cereal boxes. 

I’d never hear the end of it if he saw that happen. 

You glare at the plants in question, eyes shifting to a deep green as the flowers develop into fresh fruit to cover your slip. 

Ben pulls out a box of Lucky Charms, but frowns at Lucky on the front cover, who is throwing a handful of marshmallow charms into the air around him. 

Guess he's not a fan.

 “If I’d known you were going to sleep on my couch I would have gotten Bran flakes and prunes for you.” You smirk as you pour water over the oats in the bowl before placing it in the microwave to cook. “I know people your age need that kind of thing sometimes. Gets the bowel moving.”

“Make fun of my age all you want.” Ben steps around you to grab the almost empty bottle of milk from your refrigerator. “One day you’ll be happy to find out just how experienced I am.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “You’re all I dream about baby.”

You can feel his breath on the side of your neck from how close he is to you, the kitchen seems smaller than it ever has, and he leans forward, sensing your hesitation. One of his hands goes on the kitchen counter to your right, the other places the milk down and then braces on the counter to your left caging you against him. 

“Do any of your lines actually work?” You say, throat tight.

“You’d be surprised.” He smirks wider, green eyes sliding up and down your body. 

 The air in the kitchen electrifies, something passing through the air between the two of you that makes you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His eyes are softer green now, reminding you of the color of fresh leaves on an oak tree in spring, bright, strong, and full of life. His body is pressed gently against yours, the strong muscles of his abdomen laying on your hips, muscular arms making sure that you don't walk away.

You try not to think again about how good he looks in your apartment, how calm and relaxed he seems when he’s away from Butcher and not wearing his uniform. 

Standing here in your apartment, he looked normal, human. Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were, when you could do what you did, when you saw him get hit with a car and shove it away with one hand. 

He was still ridiculously attractive, the kind of attractive that you’d read in romance novels and in classic Roman literature, the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, the kind of ruggedly handsome that made smart girls stupid. 

You were really feeling that last one. Because you were desperately trying to hold on to your dream of being with someone that understood every part of you, but Ben was making it hard.

It wasn’t that the idea of sleeping with him was terrible. It wasn’t. It was far from terrible it was the idea of having sex without feelings that you didn’t like. You didn’t want to sleep with him because you knew that he only saw you as something to be possessed not as an equal or someone he cared about. Soldier Boy only cared about himself, that was apparent.

He’s only interested in you because you haven’t given in. You think to yourself. It's all about the thrill of the chase, nothing else. I'm worth more than that. I'm worth more than one night.

“In fact, I think it’s working on you doll.” Ben leans down towards you so close you can feel his words in the air between your faces, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say no.

That made you pause. Ben didn’t seem to be the type of man who was patient. You’d walked in on him making out with numerous women on the couch back at the apartment he shared with the rest of the team, saw how he took control, saw how he didn’t seem to wait for them to say no or really say anything at all. Not to mention one time when you walked into the shared apartment and could hear Ben with one of his "dates" in his bedroom. Nothing about that seemed patient at all.

But this Ben standing in your kitchen was different. He was almost smiling, dark hair still damp from the shower curling on his forehead, the t-shirt damp around the collar, jeans a dark blue, and the smell of your shampoo fills your senses again all over again. It made you wish for this person all the time. The one that you could see yourself falling in love with, not the racist, sexist, and inappropriate jerk that seemed to dominate his persona at all other parts of the day.

Funny, the only time you’d ever seen Ben like this, was when the two of you were alone- well sometimes- other times he annoyed you without end and made you want to jump out a window. 

But why? Why only around me?

The feeling in your chest grows. It jumps from synapse to synapse, pulses along your skin, buzzes in your blood, tangles through your hair, and radiates through the air like a sound wave. Your eyes drift down to his lips remembering exactly what it was like to kiss him last night. How he seemed to consume you whole, how everything else fell away, how Ben curled himself around you, how he-

Your cell phone rings, breaking through the moment, and making you remember exactly why you didn’t want to give in to Ben and remember the kind of person he was. 

You push him away and pull your cellphone out of your pocket. Butcher's photo and name appear on the screen.

Shit.

"Hey Butch, what's up?" You look away from Ben, forcing yourself to calm your racing heart.

Ben perks up at the mention of Butcher’s name.

“Do you have any idea where Soldier Boy is?”

“Soldier Boy?”

“Seems like our blunt smoking man out of time has vanished. Been trying to text him all bloody morning.”

At least he doesn’t know that Ben is here. That’s good. I’d never hear the end of it if-

Ben snatches the phone from your hand and holds it up to his ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

The softness was gone, his eyes had hardened again, and the spell was broken. Ben was no longer relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and guarded, jaw set.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ben didn’t like Butcher. Sometimes you wondered why Ben decided to stay.

Probably because the alternative was being frozen like Han Solo next to his son.

When Ben had knocked Homelander out, you hadn’t believed it, and despite Ben’s arguing Butcher wanted to keep Homelander a supe, and just put him on ice. You had no idea why, especially since Butcher had been gunning for him forever, but had the sneakiest suspicion that it was because of Ryan.

But you didn't blame Butcher for that, watching your father get killed in front of you seemed traumatic, not to mention Ryan was still reeling from watching his mother die.

You turn back to your microwave to pull out your bowl of oatmeal with a groan.

Now Butcher’s going to mock me endlessly about going home with Soldier Boy. We didn’t do anything! Well…

Your mind flits back to the searing kiss you shared and to five seconds ago when whatever the hell just happened.

“You want me to meet you in fucking Jersey?” Ben laughs.

You choose not to eavesdrop on the conversation, instead you busy yourself with sprinkling brown sugar onto your breakfast and plucking a few more raspberries from the vines.

“Fine.” Ben almost growls before holding out the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Of course he does. Maybe I can pretend to lose the signal with a piece of paper or a candy wrapper.

“Hello-“

“You crazy wanker.” Butcher chuckles into the phone. “Guess your night was a little more exciting than mine eh? Oi Hughie, you owe me a tener!” He shouts to Hughie who you can guess is sitting nearby.

“What? He’s with y/n! No way!” You hear Hughie shout back, muffled but there.

Damn it he’s gonna tell Annie. She's going to start sending me pictures of babies photoshopped in supe suits.

“You guys were betting that he was here?!” You shout making eye contact with Ben who only smirks before he busies himself with getting a bowl for his cereal.

“He left about two minutes after you did. Said some bullshit about a smoke break.” Butcher is smiling and you know it. “How was he? Was he as good as all the girls say?" Butcher coos on the other side of the line.

“Nothing happened-“

“Sure it didn’t Cherie!” You hear Frenchie crow. “Hopefully you got to relieve some of that tension no?”

“I hate all of you.” You grumble, and before Butcher can say anything else you hang up the phone and glare at Ben. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“You just had to follow me home!”

“You shouldn’t have been walking out there alone.”

“I do it all the time!”

“Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you walk around alone in the middle of the night.”

"Like hell. I don't need a babysitter!"

"I think you do-"

"No I don't. In fact why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" You shout, snatching your bowl of oatmeal before moving to the wobbly kitchen table that you smooshed up against a window that looks out onto your fire escape.

"Because I tend to like morning sex. It's a great way to start the day. Thought you'd be interested." Ben winks as he sits across from you, barely fitting in the wooden chair.

Your phone buzzes where it sits on the table beside your bowl. When you flip it over, you see the text from Annie.

Annie: YOU SLEPT WITH SOLDIER BOY?!!!!

You: I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

Annie: That's a yes. TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!

You sigh and shovel a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, eyes drifting up to the top of your phone screen focusing on the time.

"SHIT! I'm late for work!" You shout before shoving as much oatmeal as you can into your mouth.

"Work?" Ben looks up from his bowl of cereal confused as you begin to run around the room.

The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal falls into the sink with a resounding crash, Bean's cat food lands haphazardly in his bright green food dish, and you practically run to your tote bag that hangs on a peg by your front door.

"I told you. I work at a plant shop." You glance back at your barren coffee maker mournfully. The thought of trying to get through the day without coffee seemed impossible, not to mention you didn’t have time to grab one on the way to work from your favorite shop just around the corner.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Some of us have to work for a living." You run your fingers through your hair quickly pulling it back in a loose ponytail.

"You should leave your hair down." Ben says from the table watching you.

"What?"

"It's prettier when it's down."

"I don't have time for your misogynistic comments. Come on let's go."

"What?"

"I'm not going to leave you here in my apartment alone. You don't have a key."

"You could give me yours-"

"HA. No that's not going to happen. Come on." You tug on his muscular arm, trying to get him up out of the chair, but he barely moves.

“You know you could call out of work and we could spend the day in bed.” He smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “I mean you look good baby, but I think you'd look even better naked. Plus, Butcher and the rest of those fuckers already think we slept together so we might as well-“

“Not a chance Gramps. Either get up out of the chair and leave through the door or leave through the window. It’s your choice and I have no qualms with throwing you down to the street. But please don't make me do that because I can't afford a new window."

Ben rolls his eyes, but finally gets up to follow you. He actually tries to open the door for you, but you place your hand on his chest.

“Nah uh uh. Bowl in the sink. I’m not going to clean up after you.”

Ben sighs and mumbles something under his breath that’s lost in Mike’s inhuman screech of “Love on Top.”

Yeah. What a great fucking way to start the day.

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

(Photos for series picture found on Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro

[embersofhope-if]

What interactive fiction would you recommend (besides this one)?

oh anon i follow over 150 if blogs let me get you some of my favorites😊 This is very long so all of them are under the cut🫶

some of these you'll probably already have heard of bc of how popular they are, but trust me, they're popular for a reason, lmao

these ones all have demos (if i messed up and some dont uh ignore that)

@infamous-if - "You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes." genuinely one of my favorites ifs (seven lawless my beloved please come back home the kids are asking whats taking so long)

@coeluvr - "You play as the only remaining member of the royal family of Vesphire; living in the home of the man who took away everything from you." another ive been obsessed with recently. i will forever love revenge stories (and my pookie helios)

@merrycrisis-if - "As a late 20-something year-old fresh from a recent break-up and struggling to pay rent in New York, life throws up more questions than answers."

@ramonag-if - "When your village is razed to the ground, you're left fleeing with an exiled prince. You can trust no one but each other. Your father's dying wish was to protect the prince, but can you really trust a man who was exiled from his kingdom?"

@nyehilismwriting / Project Hadea - "Set in a distant future, you play the role of an elite operative of Scytha Industries, a private contracting firm. ‘Contracting’, in this case, refers to anything from political assassinations, to private security, to bodyguard services."

@vapolis - "You’re a mercenary, gun for hire, assassin, information extractor, delivery person – call it what you want, because the people that hire you for your services don’t give much of a shit what you call yourself as long as you actually get them what they want."

@godsandvillains-if - "As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile."

@hvllowheart - "LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER is a spy game where you take on the role of an agent under the codename Wraith, who up until two years ago was one of the best agents TERRA has ever made. now the agency returns into your life and pulls you back into the field as agents go missing by the dozens."

@eyesofshan-if - "Years ago, you were uprooted from the only home you had ever known and captured to be sold as a slave. Now, war is at your doorstep once more while you are left in a delicate position — as a commander of the country that invaded your homeland. While investigating a case of illegal human trafficking, you come across a plot that threatens to rip this tentative peace apart."

@apt502-if - "Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive. Fun."

@acourtofserpents - "As the only human in the Kingdom of Faerie, you're no stranger to shining eyes that hold looks filled with hatred, lips painted in the color of forest fruits whispering your name, heads with pointed ears turning at your every step. Though you long for their approval, for a place amongst the wicked immortals, they remind you with every breath you take that as you came from dirt, to dirt you will return."

@softlyopulent-if - "All of King Adder’s children are a mystery to the common folk, but you—you are nothing but a ghost. A ghost, that spends eighteen years locked away in the deepest part of the palace, so that no eyes may lay upon you.And those that do—they do not treat you kindly.And when you are finally of age, at last, you are betrothed to the child of the King of a far away kingdom, to secure an alliance that your father has been seeking for years.And you are swept away to a place even more foreign than your own land, to be wed to a stranger that looks at you with contempt. To live in a kingdom of citizens that despise you. And perhaps, just perhaps, fight a war."

@heromaker-if - "Stories of heroes, legends and chosen ones are commonplace. But you'd never thought it was your child who would have to save the world from the Demon Lord's clutches."

@theabyssal - "In The Abyssal, you assume the control of a powerful deity that was betrayed by their fellow gods. Imprisoned against your will for all eternity, you had a long time to plan your revenge."

@milaswriting - "By birth, and association, you are one of the most famous people in the big city of Lehsa. Your father's the mayor, and you're from a bright, vibrant, bustling city... and yet, until recently, you didn't realise all the secrets yourself and the city held."

@zico-if - "You were supposed to be a sacrifice in order to bring an eldritch god to your realm, a sacrifice that was never supposed to live. Instead of dying and summoning the god intended, you find yourself face to face with an ancient being that was chained and locked away for the horrors they once committed."

@collegetennisoriginstory - "Experience the ups-and-downs of life as a freshman on the Cargill University varsity tennis team amongst a colorful cast of characters."

@disenchantedif - "You used to be a beacon of hope. Now they only know you as the failure, the Unchosen. Will you rise above them? Will you become better or far worse than they could ever imagine?"

@bouncyballcitadel - "Play as a first-year surgery intern at Citadel Health. Will you become the star intern and curry the favor of the chief? Or will you uncover Citadel Health’s secrets and break a story or two? This will be the best and worst year of your life. Don’t forget to save lives and break some hearts along the way."

@leoneliterary - "You play as a thief pressed into the employ of a mysterious nobleman. With the your life, the fate of your guild, and your honor on the line, you'll have to navigate the perils of the royal court and combat a more mystical threat. The story is set in Cusmo, the naturally fortified, desert capital of Hashind, and will showcase the much praised Upper Cusmo, the crime ridden Lower Cusmo, and much more."

@doriana-gray-games - "Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!"

@fallenlightsif - "You are the half-sibling of High General Ezrah Rhys and have lived the past twelve years of your life in Kesdon, the capital of Ebia. You've spent most of your time training and honing your skills for the future that awaits you. A future that is entirely your own."

@shai-manahan - "They call you Ripper. It’s a horrendous name to give to a detective like you, and definitely not one you chose for yourself, but you suppose it’s to be expected given your reputation for putting powerful people behind bars. Businesses feared you. The other cops hated you. Local gangs despised your entire existence. Yet, despite all of that, you remained untouched. Until that day, when all the lies and the deception and the foolish mistakes turned your life upside down."

@larkingame - "someone is after you. for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago. carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head. so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away."

@evertidings - "you are a bounty hunter. responsible for taking in rogue supernaturals, you work for IAOS—the international agency of supernaturals—where, alongside your best friend and partner, you two have quickly become the best hunting duo of the branch. after a particularly tricky hunt, you brief your boss, Caine Atheron, and come back to work the next day to find that he has mysteriously disappeared overnight, the company is now in the hands of his best friend, Sebastian Mai. and though no one else seems to question it, something tells you that there's more to the story."

@rotten-games - Regrets Of The Traitor: "You are the Ruler of Hadaria after killing the previous Queens and betraying all who once trusted you. Sat upon the throne with all the power available to you, one would be forgiven for believing you finished with your quest. With a strange figure in your dreams speaking vague prophecies of magical artifacts, a mysterious cult moving into the city, and a group intent on unseating you from your place, perhaps you’re way in over your head for a farmer’s kid. City of Immortals: "You follow a pair of siblings worlds apart as they get accustomed to their new realities in two very different worlds. One trapped in an unnatural desert wasteland where every resource has a scarcity, not knowing if they’ll be the only one left when everything turns to dust, the other working as a private investigator in a sprawling underground metropolis of the undying. Each not knowing the other is alive, will they unravel the mysteries that somehow connect their two new homes?"

@shepherds-of-haven - "Shepherds of Haven is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. In it, you play as a Mage living in a world where magic is outlawed and your people—those possessing supernatural powers—are oppressed and reviled. The world is ruled by humans who believe in science, technology, and industry: at best, you and your kind are nothing more than a fairytale, and at worst you are the state’s greatest threat."

@someoneverypretty-world - "As a child, growing up in the slums of Hvinir without any guardians, you believed you would not live to see 30. Until Haven, a thief guild, took you in and taught you how to survive. Facing hardships, the guild leader tasks you to sneak into the castle with the mission to take."

@northern-passage - "The Northern Passage is an 18+ horror fantasy CYOA, where you play as a hunter sent up north to investigate a series of missing people along the border of your home country and in the port cities of the Blackwater. Working with your handler, Lea, you will travel north and discover that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined, and that there is something powerful lurking out in the deep, dark sea…"

@thedecoy-if - "♔ The Decoy is a dark fantasy that follows you, a 21st century normal human, kidnapped to an alternate magical universe to play the part of the missing heir to a powerful throne...who also happens to be your doppelgänger. ♔"

@ripperplague - "You are a doctor, a prodigy in hiding. Deep in the underbelly of Valeris, you hide among the shadows. You work hard to wring the blood stains off your palms, your face...your soul. Redemption and revenge are parallel goals, the flames of rage and disgust mingling. How could anyone ever love you?"

These ones dont have a demo yet, but im still absolutely obsessed

@pavedinashes-if - "You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Wasn't part of the plan, but you know how life loves to mess with plans. People happened, stuff happened, and suddenly you're on the move. The new chapter ahead? Buckle up, 'cause it's not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. And guess what? Your step-mom? Yeah, she's right there in the same city. She's always had this knack for trying to steer your ship, like every decision's a GPS checkpoint. But hey, there's this one thing that's never let you down—your skateboard. It's like the buddy that's been with you through thick and thin, the one that never bails. Among all this craziness it's like your anchor. So, the big question is—can you break out of the loop you got in? Find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out."

@riptide-if - "Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that. So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions. It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*. Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?"

@weepinwriter - "You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth."

@whatawaitsus - "Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework. That is until students start to go missing."

@evermount - "Blue-suited guards stand in every corner, but they're no threat—you're under threat. And this is how you keep safe. It's necessary; the council said so themselves. Under no circumstances shall Evermount be left, ever. So, no one has, and no one intends to. Why would you? It's peaceful—you're at peace. You have your spouse, and you have your house; everyone's happy. This is all you've ever known."

@forsakensword-if - "When the Deathless, an Ancient Evil that hasn’t been seen in over two million years, returns to Earth, it threatens the extremely precarious peace that has settled between the warring factions of Heaven and Hell. God, in an effort to protect Humanity from the consequences of a war between the Angels and Demons, sends Heaven’s best warriors to banish the Deathless once more. When that ultimately fails, it is declared that God’s Sworn Sword and Heaven’s Chief Angel will be charged with finding a way to destroy the Deathless once and for all. That Angel is you. The Archangel Michael."

@velena-if - "You wake up in a dark, cold place with no memories of yourself, save for one: the memory of your death. It becomes clear soon enough that you are in the Nav, the domain of the goddess of death, Morana, and the sanctuary of all the evil spirits and monsters. For you, Nav will be the place where your life changes forever."

@countdown-if - "Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling. Who were they? Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo. In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings. Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate."

@dropout-if - "This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks. This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know. "

@stonewall-if - "Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart."

@viperdove-if - "You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does."

@fallen-if - "You are an individual that has been known by many aliases over the years. Child of the dawn, the original sinner, star of the morning. But no matter the name, your identity remains the same. You are the one that defied the heavens, the one that cast aside the shackles of tradition and broke free from the constraints of the divine. You are Lucifer Morningstar - The Fallen Angel. "

@maboroshi-if - "Maboroshi is an Interactive Fiction Game based in the world of Naruto, however, all events within the story span during the end of the First Shinobi War and the beginning of the Second Shinobi War."

@greatprotector-if - "Forced out of your family's farm against your will, you are now an ocean away from home, and you have somehow been chosen to be the main protector of the heir to some kingdom you’ve hardly even heard of. The spot's only open because the former protector died of old age, so that's probably a good indicator that it won't be as strenuous as it sounds. But despite that, you pour yourself into your work. You can't help it. You feel safer decked out in armour, and you like having something you're trusted to look after. Protect some royalty, cover all your blind spots, and try not to worry about all you've left behind."

@retribution-if - "Retribution, He Cries is a revenge story set in the Dark Ages of the fictional world of [REDACTED] and other realms."

@thescarsilivewith-if - "You were a kind monarch once. After your mother’s brutal reign, you thought your people needed respite. Evidently, they didn’t think the same since their bloodthirst only increased. Three years after your coronation, your mother’s favourite consort dethroned you with the army and the clergy’s support. As you fled from the palace together with your spouse, from an arranged marriage celebrated only three months earlier, you were found by slavers. You managed to save your spouse but not yourself. Four years later, your spouse finds you, though you’re not the same person they knew. You are not changed in spirit alone, however, for your magic grew in your captivity and now you’re unbound. When the crown chose you as its owner, you wanted peace for your kingdom. Now the only thing you crave is revenge."

[joelsprettyprincess]

Someone Like You

Pairing: Dutch Van Der Linde x f!prostitute!reader Summary: A certain client excites desires that you never knew you had. Tags: smut, oral sex, age gap (20s/40s), pet names, daddy kink, slight dd/Ig dynamics, power imbalance, Dutch-typical misogyny, aftercare Wordcount: 3.67k A/N: IT'S DONE!! Once I really get into my groove, I can finish stuff pretty fast, so I wrote this in about 2 days, more or less. Like I mentioned before this is really self-indulgent. To a point. I will go ahead and say I know nothing about prostitution or gentleman's clubs in 1900, so most of the exposition/logistics is kind of just what I pieced together.. Also, Dutch is very much an asshole in this. It takes place like, right after a certain person's death, as you will see. I think it's fitting, though, unfortunately. Also, it took me forever to think of the name. I take it pretty seriously and finally landed on this one (it's a reference to the song!). I like to think it encapsulates the theme of this fic. And YES I added a ball-sucking part and I HAVE NO SHAME. Thank you to @cafekitsune for the divider!! 🙏 Anyway enjoy and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The beige wallpaper inside the gentleman’s club was stained, and peeling in some places, exposing the wooden planks underneath. The tiny flowers dotted at even intervals, once a cheery yellow, were now various shades of orange and brown, made even uglier by the light of the oil lamps along the walls. The sag of the paper in several corners matched the downcast mood of the cramped, badly lit lobby.

This was taken in discreetly by Dutch Van Der Linde, yet he made no comment about it. At an establishment such as this one, the real attraction was the people, not the building.

He walked up to the antiquated counter, where an older man with a large, crooked nose and wrinkly skin sat, puffing away at a fat cigar.

“Yes sir,” the man spoke with a small, knowing smile. He blew a cloud of smoke to the side. “Are you interested in a show? Or perhaps a private room with a girl? We’ve lots of lovely young ladies, the best in Lemoyne. Any size, any color, whatever you want. Cheap rates too.”

Dutch usually felt it was beneath him to patronize such a place, but things back at camp had been so upsetting and melancholy lately that he’d been driven to seek out a different type of thrill entirely. Just for one night…

“I’d like to book a room with a girl,” he answered. “And could I make a special request?” 

“‘Course.”

He listed his preferences. “I’d like a cute one. Young, but legal. Perhaps…one that hasn’t been here for long.” 

There was just something special about laying with a woman on the younger side, in Dutch’s opinion. One that wasn’t sullied and jaded by the aches of the world. He liked the zest for life so many of them had— yet, without fail, that enthusiasm eventually faded. It happened with Susan, and it had begun happening with Molly. That was a great tragedy of his life; he could never hold on to that feeling of sunshine— eventually, the rains came.

The man nodded and thought for a bit, taking another drag on his cigar. “I tell you what, sir, we not too long ago got a wonderful girl. She’s very pretty, she’ll lay down and take anything you give her—”

“That’s- that’s fine,” Dutch interrupted, not wanting to stand in this dingy room any longer. “What room?” He shifted, looking at the worn wooden staircase to the left of the room. 

“2C should be open,” the man informed him, gesturing towards the staircase. “That’s the second floor, second room on the right. I’ll collect the girl and she’ll meet you there, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Dutch grunted. After he paid, he ventured up the creaky stairs and found 2C easily. He could hear faint moans coming from some of the other rooms. Pushing open the door, he stepped into a small, simply decorated room with a bed and a couple of chairs with thin beige cushions. He calmly took off his shoes and vest, then sat on the cream-and-red bedspread and waited.

You’d just gotten dressed after a bath when a knock came at your door. The Saint Denis sun had almost completely dipped, and rays of purple were overtaking the yellow and orange sky. You’d been hoping to turn into bed early; it had been a rare day with no clients.

Mr. Gelding called your name just as you opened the door. He was a large, overbearingly friendly man, though to his credit he never crossed the line. He was one of several managers in Landry Gentlemen's Club— they all oversaw the daily events of the club, as well as providing protection and support to the girls. That was a big reason you preferred to work here instead of simply catcalling on the streets; it provided greater job security.

This— providing various services to men— was your line of work. Had been, for the past 6 months. It paid the bills much faster than a regular job, and you were able to squander a little cash every week. Eventually you wanted to get a small place of your own—perhaps in Strawberry— but until then, you would work here.

Prior to this, you had juggled 2 jobs: toiling for a rancher by day, and working as a bargirl by night. After your father had left your mother when you were ten, you’d worked to support the family.

Then your mother, who’d always had a weak immune system, succumbed to a particularly bad fever soon after you’d turned nineteen. The rancher you worked under had at least been understanding and let you stay on the farm with a discounted rent, but even with that discount you struggled to make ends meet. Thus, you’d sought out a more lucrative line of work and started working at the gentleman’s club.

Only the girls who provided direct sexual services to clients actually lived in these quarters. Most of the dancers and performers came and worked, then left for their own homes. After being hired, you’d moved here out of convenience. This particular building was a little offset from the performance area, but still basically next door to it. It was quite small; two stories high, with plain hallways that had several doors on either side leading to the girls’ private rooms.

Your room was simply decorated, just a plain bed with your keepsakes hidden underneath it. The savings you’d earned so far were in a lockbox shoved deep in the closet.

“Missy, don’t turn in just yet,” Mr. Gelding spoke in a jovial voice. “You’ve got a client waiting in 2C.” He leaned against the doorway, smelling of cigar smoke and sweat.

“Oh,” you spoke, silently mourning the free time you’d had. Then again, more clients meant more money.

“He seems pretty wealthy, between you and me,” he added in a lower tone. “Be a good girl for him and he might pay a little extra.” He chuckled, then patted your shoulder.

After Mr. Gelding left, you quickly changed into a simple red dress. You’d noticed that men liked that color a lot, for whatever reason. A quick brush of the hair and of your teeth, and you were ready.

You wasted no time in walking over to the “performance building”. On the right side was where the showgirls and dancers performed, and on the left were the private rooms. You entered on the left side.

Climbing up the creaky staircase, you brushed by Millie, another worker here. She was quite a bit older than you, perhaps 30 or 35. Sometimes you wondered how long she’d been here.

Well, that was not going to be you. This was strictly a temporary job.

Standing in front of 2C, you took a moment to pat down your hair and put on a soft smile. Then you entered the room.

Sitting on the bed was a man in the best sense of the word. You hadn’t known what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this. He was quite tall and broad, with a dark crop of curls and a large nose, which sat right above a neatly trimmed mustache. He had on a simple white and blue striped button-up and black pants. You could see the vest that he’d taken off and laid on the chair was made of a soft red velvet, with golden chains attached. Oh my. 

“Hello,” he greeted you, smiling a bit. He seemed just a tad nervous. It was clear he was older, maybe in his forties. Was he married?

“Hello sir,” you replied softly, closing the door behind you. You padded over and took off your shoes. “‘S nice to meet you.” You told him your name.

He repeated it, lips curling a bit. “I’m Dutch.”

Even him smiling couldn’t soften the serious look on his face. His brown eyes were rather dark, and his brow was heavy and thick. You felt both anxious and drawn in by them.

“What would you like me to do, Dutch?” you asked, sitting on the bed beside him. You placed your hand on his large, grizzled one with practiced ease.

He cleared his throat. “I-I must apologize, I’ve never hired a prostitute before.”

You smiled. “That’s alright, sir.” Pulling him in closer, you gently pressed your lips against his.

Dutch, seemingly unsure for a moment, hesitated, then returned the kiss. His mustache tickled your nostrils as he softly kissed you.

Your fingers became intertwined with his, and he grew more bold, cupping your face with his free hand and kissing you more earnestly. The cold metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

Quite rapidly, Dutch took control, pushing you down onto the bed and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You sighed softly, liking how direct he was now. The bedframe creaked quietly with your combined weight.

 Dutch’s tongue explored your mouth for a good while, and his hands traveled from your face to your chest. He gently squeezed your left breast, running a thumb over the fabric protecting your sensitive nipple. Within a minute he had teased them both to stiff peaks, with you mewling quietly underneath him.

Finally, Dutch broke the kiss. You both took a moment to catch your breath and he wiped off his mouth.

His demeanor had changed a lot. Now his face seemed even more serious; his pupils reflected lustful thoughts, and he carried himself more confidently.

“I’d like a blowjob, love,” he requested, sighing. “I need to relax. Will you do that for me?”

You weren’t sure when this shift in dynamic had happened. Perhaps when he’d pushed you onto the bed. Now, you sensed that this was a powerful man, one who was used to getting what he wanted. Suddenly you were craving to satisfy him, to fulfill his hidden desires. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

He’d wasted no time in removing his clothes. You slipped out of your dress and bloomers while Dutch stripped naked as well, putting all his clothes in a neat pile on the chair. Then he got back on the bed, laying down with his legs spread wide enough for you to lay between them. His muscular chest was covered in dark hair, with a nice thick happy trail down to his groin.

As you got in position, you surveyed his cock and your eyes got big. He was very large, with veins running prominently up the shaft to his tip, flushed red and already leaking precum, and down to the thick mess of hair around his base. His balls were nicely rounded and large as well.

His cock was already mostly hard; it was slightly curved, and stuck out so his leaky tip was mere inches away from your lips.

Holding your breath, you grasped his thick cock between your index finger and thumb, gently massaging a small spot on his tip.

Dutch inhaled sharply and threw his head back, running a hand through his shiny black curls.

With one hand, you cupped his balls, and with the other you held his cock at the base and dragged your tongue over his tip. You could feel the muscles of his thighs tightening. He let out a shaky breath.

“That’s a good girl,” he mumbled, eyes closed. “A good fuckin’ girl.”

You continued to lick his tip and shaft and massaged his balls. Your nail very gently grazed the sensitive skin.

Dutch’s hand shot down and he roughly stroked your hair, sighing. “That feels so good, sweetheart, keep going.”

The rhythmic hair stroking felt good. You laid your head on his thigh and sucked on just the tip, slobbering over it good and slowly pumping your hand up and down.

“Yes, babygirl, that’s good,” he moaned. “You know just what daddy likes. So good. So good.”

Dutch’s praise made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like he was really truly proud of you. No one had been proud of you in a long time.

You doubled your efforts and took more of his cock in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around, putting plenty of spit on his throbbing cock.

Drool was dribbling out the sides of your mouth and oozing down Dutch’s shaft. Removing your mouth from his cock with a small pop, you instead took one of his balls in your mouth.

Dutch groaned loudly, pulling at your hair just a bit. “Oh-ho, you filthy girl…”

You sucked on his balls, switching between them and continuously jerking him off with your hand.

“Oh, honey, this is just what I needed. A good tight cocksleeve to blow me…” He moaned and spread his legs a bit more.

You rapidly swept your tongue across them, back and forth, till Dutch's legs came together and squeezed the sides of your face. You let go of his balls, now drenched in spit, and slurped up his cock again. You couldn’t get enough. It almost had a taste to it, sort of masculine and heavy. Whatever it was, you were addicted. As you coaxed about three quarters of Dutch’s shaft down your throat, you looked up at him in admiration. His eyes were still tightly closed, and the outline of a vein had appeared on his forehead. 

Deepthroating this older man’s cock had set a fire in you that you didn’t know existed. You wanted him to keep calling you a good girl. His good girl.

Suddenly he opened his eyes and you made direct eye contact. You ducked your head down, embarrassed at your no doubt obvious display of affection.

Dutch smirked. “S’okay, honey, nothing to be ashamed of. You’re obsessed with daddy’s cock, huh?”

You nodded sheepishly.

He stroked your face. “You need a daddy to take care of you, love you?” he asked in a husky voice.

Your face burned. He’d seen right through you. Was it that obvious that you were starved of affection? You nodded, again, still sucking lewdly on his cock.

He chuckled. “Oh, I know. I know, sweetheart. So many girls like you, laying down for any excuse of a father figure they can find. S’not your fault.”

When did this become so…real?

“You want that?” Dutch asked, squeezing your ass. “You want me to protect you, teach you right from wrong, make every decision for you?” His voice softened. “Want daddy to take the hurt away?”

His cock slipped out of your mouth and you stared at him, heart pounding so fast you thought your chest would burst into a million butterflies. “Yes,” you whined in a tiny voice that you didn't recognize. “I-I want to be your special girl…”

What is going on? 

He pushed your head back onto his throbbing cock. “Don’t think about anything anymore,” he said in a low voice. “Not your job, not your future, not even what to eat. Daddy’ll do it for you. The only thing that should be in your brain is being a good cocksleeve for daddy.”

You were struggling to remember what had led up to this moment. You faintly remembered being obligated to do this, for payment, but…

Wordlessly, you nodded. Whatever happened in the past didn’t seem that important compared to being an obedient girl for Dutch. He felt warm, and comforting, like a dependable authority figure. You clung to him desperately.

Dutch shifted positions so he was laying on his side. You laid down with him with your head on the blanket.

He held your head in place and pistoned his hips, shoving his cock in and out of your drooling mouth.

“Damn— I’m close, honey, daddy’s close. You’re going to swallow every drop, you hear me?” Dutch growled, pulling your hair so tightly you whined in pain.

You tried to nod but he was fucking your face so violently that all you could do was take it, and try not to pass out. Every thrust made you gag.

It was unclear how long he fucked your face for. You did know that you were drooling freely, all over his cock and the blanket. And that his cock was twitching in your mouth, signaling the load you knew was coming.

‘Fuck— fuck-” Dutch grunted, using your face as if it was nothing more than an inanimate object, sparing no thought on how you felt.

But how you felt was indescribable. It felt like you were finally healing some part of you that died when your father had left, years ago. You weren’t sure if this was roleplay or real life and you didn’t know if you cared, you just wanted to be his girl. Dutch’s girl. 

Finally, he slowed, pushing in a couple more times, then held your hair tightly and let out fractured groans as his cock let out thick, warm splurts of cum down your throat. He fucked your throat with tiny thrusts, emptying his balls and rapidly filling up your mouth.

After a brief pause Dutch pulled out of your mouth, smearing the leftover cum on your cheek. He was breathing heavily and wiped off his sweaty forehead.

Your cheeks bulged with his load, and it took you several gulps to down it all. Then you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue for him to see that you had swallowed it all.

He inspected it, putting a thumb in your mouth, then patted you on the head. “That’s my good girl.”

Dutch wanted to cuddle afterwards.

He insisted on cleaning you up and wiped up your face with a damp rag. After that he removed the stained bedspread, then pulled you up to lay in his arms. The two of you sat there for a while, you with your eyes half closed and Dutch tracing circles on your knuckles.

You could hear his soft breaths, and feel the rise and fall of his chest. If you never moved again, just stayed stuck in this position for all eternity, you would be happy, you think.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. “I wish I could have someone like you at home.”

“Are you married?” you asked curiously. You always felt vaguely bad about sleeping with married men.

He sighed. “Well- no. I never was. But I had a woman…not long ago.”

Was this a sensitive subject for him? “D-Did she, err…”

“She betrayed me,” Dutch said in a low growl. “Took everything we had together, and fuckin’ destroyed it.”

“Oh,” you said wondrously, not quite understanding what he meant. Did he mean she cheated?

He stroked your hair. “I came here because my whole…ahem, family…has been in shambles lately…no one respects authority anymore. No one appreciates the work I put in.”

How could anyone not respect this reverential figure? “How could they do that to you?” you wondered.

“I wish I knew, sweetheart. If only everyone was as obedient as you..” Dutch pressed a kiss to your temple.

You sighed softly. What insane woman had squandered her relationship with him? He was so polite, so serious, so warm. 

She probably just couldn’t handle his intensity.

The two of you relaxed for a few more serene minutes, then Dutch sighed. “I should probably get goin’, honey. As ungrateful as my acquaintances are, they’d be nothing without me. Nothing.” 

Despite his words, he didn’t move. His hand squeezed yours and he furrowed his brow. “I just can’t win. They say I’m too harsh, too controlling. But that’s what it takes to survive! Every fuckin’ day, I put my own needs aside for them. And not one of those…those people appreciates it.”

“That sounds awful,” you agreed. “It sounds like you do so much for them, but no one notices.” You knew that feeling well.

“You’re damn right they don’t,” Dutch grunted. “I don’t even know why I try sometimes.”

“Well…I appreciate you,” you told him shyly.

Dutch smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart. I might have to come back to see you again.” He planted a final parting kiss on your mouth, squeezed your ass again, then rose and got dressed.

You sat on the bed and watched him, already missing his warm body. Dutch’s words about his family seemed harsh, but then it was a cruel world. It made sense to be a little cruel in return. 

After he redressed himself, Dutch came over. “Here’s a little extra, baby. For letting a tired man rant.” He pressed a few bills into your hand.

“Th-thank you,” you squeaked, very pleased. 

“Take care,” he said, and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

Once he left, you flopped back down, exhilarated and anxious. What in the world just happened? Did he mean anything he said? Was it just a kink he’d wanted to try out?

Your underwear was soaked through; they had been, for some time. Whether or not he’d meant them, Dutch’s words had affected you greatly. And now you were feeling the loss, a great grief that had cracked your heart open, and despair was pouring out. 

Already, you wanted to see him again, to learn everything about him. The concept of letting that man make every decision in your life and simply existing as his pet…well, that turned you on more than you cared to admit. You’d been independent for most of your life, and didn’t you deserve something for it? Didn’t you deserve a strong, handsome man to shield you from the horrors of the world?

You’d forgotten to ask him about his occupation. Perhaps he was the head of a railway company, or a well-respected professor. With that demeanor and elocution, he had to be in some prestigious position. 

I’ll ask next time, you decided.

After arriving back at your private room, you laid down and finished what had started between your legs. As you desperately rubbed yourself to orgasm, you imagined Dutch’s deep, rich voice growling in your ear, and your pussy being stretched to its limits by his thick cock. Very quickly, you came, gasping softly.

Dutch had said he’d be back. You would wait, with bated breath, till that day. Perhaps if you were a good enough girl for him, he’d take you with him. Stranger things had happened. Powerful men married their mistresses all the time. 

These dreams would keep you afloat until the next time you saw him. 

[renthony]

Can I ask how you made the beads? They look really cool!

I meant to respond to this ages ago, but I've had zero energy. I was going to sit down and finally write up some instructions, but then I got the urge to do something with my hands, so I figured I'd make more beads and do a photo tutorial!

Context for others: This ask is in reference to these polymer clay beads I made a couple months ago:

General disclaimer: I'm not an expert with polymer clay, I only really dabble. More experienced polymer clay artists might have tips to improve them/do things more efficiently--all I know is the method I used. I will say these beads have held up super well on the bracelet I wear pretty much every day, though.

What you need:

Polymer clay in the colors you want for your beads

Two eyelets that fit the size you want for the bead hole - I used 5.5mm (7/32 inch)

A thin rod (I used jewelry wire) that will fit through your eyelets

(To make a stand for baking the beads) Thick jewelry wire and a pair of small magnets

A baking sheet and oven to bake the clay

I wanted to make another marbled bead, so I used three colors of clay. I mushed and twisted the colors together until I got a nice swirl I liked and the clay was smooth, then wrapped it around the two eyelets.

From there I used a bit of jewelry wire as a rolling pin to smooth out the clay. Stick it through the bead, hold it by the ends, and gently roll it to press all the clay together and smooth it out. This makes the eyelets pull apart a bit, but they're easy to push back together.

Gently push the eyelets back together. If you want a shorter round bead, push the eyelets all the way together until they touch. If you want a longer, barrel-shaped bead, you only have to push them together partway. The important part is to make sure the eyelets are aligned and are secure in the clay.

If any clay got in between the eyelets and is blocking the bead, you can use the wire to push it back in place or push it out of the bead hole. Theoretically you could just push the eyelets through a ball of clay, but when I tried that, it got a bit messy and I had a hard time getting all the clay plugs out. I like the wrapping and rolling process better.

Smooth out any rough bits in the clay and even out where it covers the edge of the eyelets. You can reshape it with your fingers if it's a bit lopsided, or roll it out on the mat again. Fiddle with it a bit until you're happy with it. If you need to, it's not hard to pull the clay off and try again. I had to reshape a few of mine a couple times until I was happy with them. The good thing about polymer clay is that it's soft until you bake it.

Theoretically you can bake the beads flat on their sides, but I wanted to make a little hanging rack for them. I used a bit of polymer clay, thick jewelry wire (I cannot for the life of me remember the gauge, sadly--it's just what I had on hand), and a couple magnets. Magnets can lose their efficacy after being baked, but they still work as weights to keep the stand from falling over. I shaped the wire into little hooks to hold the wire rod with the beads.

Bake according to the clay manufacturer's directions, and then you're done!

[littleslaywrites]

dixieland delight | professor!spencer reid x student!reader 

summary: spencer reid is your professor, and you find out he’s never been to a football game. you take him to the last game of your senior year. (in honor of going to my first iron bowl tomorrow. roll tide beat auburn.)

word count: 2.3k

cw: f!reader, fluff, minor age gap (reader is 21, spencer is about 15 years older), possibly niche references to bama gameday traditions, excuse to write fanfic of bama winning since we can’t do that irl this season apparently

As Spencer Reid’s student, you spent a good amount of your time visiting during his office hours. In fact, that’s how you got close enough to him that he asked you to become his girlfriend about six months ago. It was his first year teaching, and your final year in college. You assumed, considering that football was a prominent part of the campus culture, that he had been to at least one game this season. Therefore, it came as a surprise to you when he revealed that he had never been to any college football games. Something about him being a little too young and far too nerdy to enjoy the environment.

You had made it your mission for the past two months to convince him to come with you to just one game. He was resistant at first, but eventually you convinced him to attend the last game of the season. Your selling point was that it would be a great way to observe the minds of college students. A weak argument, sure, but he secretly wanted to spend time with you. It was the school’s big rivalry game, and he felt that he should experience it just once. He thought of it as an opportunity to do something he could never enjoy when he was younger, and if he could go with you, that would make it even better.

The week before the game, you made sure to prepare him for the traditions. First and foremost, you went to the store on campus and got him a polo with the team logo. He had to wear something nice to match you, but he couldn’t wear a suit and tie, or he’d end up looking like a pledge. You gave it to him in a gift bag with tulle, along with a shaker in the team colors. When you presented it to him, he was grateful for the gift, but not too thrilled about the outfit. You eventually convinced him to wear it, saying that he’d stick out in his usual outfit. You couldn’t convince him to forgo the mismatched socks, though. Next, you sent him all the chants and songs he would need to learn, Dixieland Delight being the most important. His reply was something about chants being passed down to each generation and popular culture transitioning to folk, but you were more focused on him focussing on not messing up the words come the fourth quarter. It was just one instance of many where you were grateful for his eidetic memory. Most importantly, you make sure he remembers the four most important words in the English language: “Roll Tide” and “Beat Auburn”. 

The morning of the game, you wake up bright and early at 8am. You told Spencer to meet you outside of your sorority house at 9:30. He was a little taken aback, considering the game didn’t start until 2:30, but you insisted on him getting the full experience, including early morning tailgating. It took you longer than usual to get ready, considering it was a full glam event. You put on your dress and boots, put your gameday pin on, and walked down the stairs, grabbing a sticker with your letters on it for Spencer. 

He is waiting outside your house, looking slightly out of place in the enthused crowd of girls that were taking pictures along the row. 

“I like the shirt,” you say, complementing your own taste.

“Thanks,” he replies, “I had a fantastic personal shopper.”

You laugh, pressing the sticker on his chest. He politely grabs your hand, intertwining his finger with yours.

Making your way to the quad, you tell him about who you’d be tailgating with. Some were clubs and organizations you were in at school, others were friends that lived nearby. He listens intently, curious about the peek into your world. 

“I brought earplugs,” he says as you walk to the grassy plain of pop-up tents. 

“Are you serious?” you say, lightly laughing at him.

“You know, repeated exposure to loud noise due to crowds can cause permanent hearing loss, especially–”

“Alright, I get it.” You smile at his aversion to even the slightest form of risk-taking. It’s hard to believe he rushed into danger as a special agent, but his innate instinct to help others must’ve driven him, you conclude. He smiles back, admiring your outfit and hair. He hardly ever gets to see you done up like this, so the picture of you makes his heart flutter like the first time he saw you.

By the time you’re done tailgating at about one, Spencer is tired from all the social interaction. Of course, he enjoyed meeting your friends, but he’s not necessarily the social type. Noticing his quickly draining social battery, you reassure him that he won’t have to be as conversational once you get to the stadium. 

“I know it’s a little hectic,” you reassure him. “Believe me, I was just as lost as you were as a freshman.”

You think of yourself at the beginning of college, an out-of-state freshman who’d never been to a big SEC game before. You were grateful for your sorority sisters who had shown you around, and you were excited to be that person for Spencer.

You stand together outside of the steps of the library, watching the band play the elephant stomp. Once they finish their routine, you follow the band, along with the crowd, to the stadium. Spencer is mesmerized by the crowd and their traditions, as well as their passion for the team. You follow his eyes, seeing your younger self in him, a reversal of the usual dynamic where he sees his younger self in you.  

His one request was that you wouldn’t sit in the student section. He could picture how thousands of drunk college students would be, and decided that it would set his germaphobia off as soon as he got there. You two are sitting near the field, Spencer not minding spending the extra for a better view. As you told him, if he was going to do it, he should do it right.

Before you take your seats, you stop by the concessions. You get stadium essentials: pretzels, Denny dogs, and popcorn to share. When you walk out of the tunnel, Spencer is instantly blinded by the sun. The fans are astonishingly excited, considering there’s still 45 minutes until kickoff.

“Are they a little more peppy than the crowds at your comic cons?” you ask, seeing his eyes widening.

“A little.” he smiles down at you, following the lead of your clomping boots up the stairs. 

When the game starts, he follows along in the fight song, thankful it’s not too hot. He brought sunscreen along, explaining to you that UV is damaging even when it’s cloudy. At his request, you put it on, wanting to make him happy. 

Throughout the game, you lean in to his ear to explain the plays. He opts not to wear the earplugs, wanting to hear every word you say. 

“So they get four more downs?” he asks after one particular play where the announcer calls out “first down Alabama”, and the crowd replies with a Roll Tide. 

“Exactly,” you say, proud of how fast he’s learning. “You're almost as good of a student as you are a teacher.”

He smiles at your compliment. “It helps when the rest of the crowd is giving hints.”

At halftime, he finds he enjoys the band performance a little more than the actual game, but he’d never tell you that. He makes sure to sing along when they play “Yea Alabama”, knowing it’ll make you proud of his memorization. Your enthusiasm in his interests made him feel supported, and he wanted you to feel the same. He knows what it’s like to be ignored when ranting about whatever fun facts he had to share, so he takes effort to not make you feel the same. 

He tentatively wraps his arm around your waist, reassured when you lean into him. He’s always nervous to be affectionate with you, knowing you were worried at first how people would see you when you started dating. Slowly, you got more comfortable in his presence, allowing him to steal a kiss every now and then. He was professional in class, but after that, you were just like any other couple. In a sense, the game was a milestone. Not only were you in public with him, but surrounded by your peers. It warmed his heart that you were proud enough of your relationship to let others see you with him. He always feared he would date someone who would be embarrassed by him, but you were the opposite. You were enamored by everything about him, you loved his brain, his looks, his heart. Enough that you even asked the people sitting behind you to take pictures of the two of you. 

You smile down at the image, the two of you in your gameday outfits with the field behind you. 

“You look downright southern,” you say, turning your phone to show him. 

You both laugh at this, him asking you to send the picture to him. He likes to print his photos out, organizing them in physical albums rather than on his phone, like you did. He makes sure to remember to get an extra for you. 

At the start of the fourth quarter, they play “Basket Case” by Green Day, the only song he knew before his lessons in football. He dances along with you, embarrassment escaping him due to your carefree moves. 

It’s not too sunny but not too cold, the perfect weather, in your mind, for a game. You wish it was a night game, but the rivalry makes up for it. 

When “Dixieland Delight” comes on, he pulls out the shaker you bought for him. 

Holding my lover with the other, a sweet, soft, Southern thrill 

For a moment, he understands why the crowd doesn’t make you feel claustrophobic.

Hold her up tight (against the wall), make a little loving (all night) 

There’s a unity he feels with the other fans as they chant the same words as him.

The sun begins to set over the stadium, dipping below the edge of the upper bowl. You comment on it, and Spencer says something about why the colors look the way they do, but you’re instantly distracted by the Tide running in the game winning touchdown with a 1:32 left in the fourth quarter. The stadium erupts right as Spencer finishes talking, confusing him as he wasn’t really watching the game as his attention was on you. 

You’re jumping around and cheering, so he joins in. He would usually feel weird being so enthusiastic, but with the crowd all screaming, he’d almost feel weirder if he didn’t. As the clock runs down, he remembers the final tradition of the game: Rammer Jammer.  

When you made him learn all the traditions, you told him that this one was for when you won. Not if, but when. He pointed out your phrasing, but your reply was only “we’re Alabama, of course we’ll win”. 

You assumed prior to the game he’d be opposed to heading down to the strip afterwards, considering the crowd would probably pack the streets. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to go to Rounders, anyway. However, as everyone filed out of the stadium, he turned to you and asked what you were doing after the game. 

The high from the win was infectious, and, realizing how fun your traditions were, he wanted to do it all. 

“What about Taco Bell?” you ask, making the executive decision to rule out any bars. He agrees to that plan, holding your hand as you two walk down University Blvd, packed on all sides by the celebrating students. 

“You people go crazy when you win, huh?”

“You should be glad this wasn’t against Tennessee,” you reply.” “I would’ve made you pull out a cigar with the rest of the crowd.” 

He smiles, just slightly concerned at the tradition, but choosing not to mention the health risks of smoking. Since you’ve been dating, he’s loosened up, your spirit infectious. 

Crammed between the rowdy crowd, he looks at you and smiles. He can tell you have a hint of concern for him, so he squeezes your hand, signifying that he’s enjoying himself. 

“I’m glad you convinced me to come,” he says, taking in the energy. 

“Me, too. I just wish I convinced you before my last home game.”

“I guess we’ll just have to come back next year.”

This makes you blush, being the first time he’s mentioned anything long term. Part of him enjoys seeing your reaction. He’d usually fumble over his words, explaining himself away, but he sticks with it this time, meaning what he says about the future. 

The two of you grab your food, watching everyone on the street from inside. 

“A little different from CalTech?”

“A bit,” he smiled. “I wouldn’t call it a party school, and we sure didn’t do football like you guys do.”

“Ever wish you went somewhere down South?”

“I think today was about enough for me.” 

You both laugh at this, knowing, even if he wasn’t as young as he was in college, he wasn’t in his element. 

He walks you back to the house afterwards, hugging you outside the door. In bed that night, you find yourself smiling at a future where you can drag him along to more games, hoping his comment of “next year” would ring true by then. Or this year would work better, a playoff at Bryant-Denny or even the Rose Bowl. Now that you thought about it, that’d be even better. You fall asleep with visions of a national championship (with Spencer and you in the crowds watching) dancing in your head. 

Lucky as a seven, living in heaven with my dixieland delight

a/n: This fic is majorly based on my own life and my own daydreams about our boy Spencer if he worked at my school. Reading it over it sounds like I’m crushing on bama football more than Spencer (which might be true oops). Anyway, I'm gonna start going thru requests soon but I just had to put this idea into writing 🫶

[jellytheteawolf]

Finally sharing the OC mini comic I made a year ago for the xianxia oc zine Jade Reverie!

Honestly some of my favorite comic work I've done.. there are a lot of areas for improvement, but overall, im very happy with what I did

Pg 1: two highschoolers, a middle aged corporate cog, and a military veteran find themselves trapped in a strange, fantastical dimension. The corporate worker seems to have had experience with this phenomena before

Pg 2: a talking bone fish arrives, introducing the microdimension they're trapped in as a "temple" while referring to the people gathered as players. The bone fish is recognized by the corporate worker as the guide for this temple instance.

Pg 3: many many miles and 2 whole dimensions away is Zhen Jiyue, the jiao dressed in black, who is revealed to be the one speaking through the bone fish. Unfortunately, the medium he uses to scry and connect across space time has shattered under prolonged stress/overuse.

Pg 4: yueyue turns to sanyin, the girl in light colors, demanding her to fix the shattered medium. Sanyin on paper is his support and loyal partner, but the reality of yueyue's demanding job and poor emotional regulation leads to a much more strained, animosity filled relationship.

Pg 5: sanyin does fix the medium, with much reluctance, and expresses her irritation (she is mute). Due to the time sensitive nature of yueyue's job, she does not put up much of a fight, but nurses her long-formed resentment towards yueyue.

After yueyue regains control of the bonefish + subsequent situation in the temple, he's calmed down enough for the guilt and shame towards how he acted to surface.

Yet his own inner conflict is not enough to inspire him to change. It seems that, as of now, yueyue embodies the sea that is his domain, forever isolated in abyssal waters.

Leftover sales are open for the xianxia oc zine btw... go buy now..

--

I think this is the first time I shared anything substantial abt my ocs/comic story wip on tumblr? I mightve shared my minotaur art but it's not a comic.

Anyways this universe/story wip is unlimited flow based, thus pulling references/inspo from various lit, mythology, etc etc. Yueyue is 蛟龙 while sanyin is 鲛人. They're not related by blood but are forced to live in the same abandoned underwater kingdom together/forced to have some kind of relationship with each other, which takes the form of coworkers + boss and underling + maybe siblings on a good day.

Misc oc doodles: yueyue, tj, qy, tj as a gecko

[bones4thecats]

What If They Had A Family? - Hazbin Hotel (PT.1)

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: What If They Had A Family? (PT.1) Characters: Sir Pentious and Zestial (+ Valentino and Vox LINK) Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: The reader in this piece is specifically referred to as female since they were written to have given birth to children. But, the pronouns will still be gender-neutral since I write in that format easier. By the way, this has gone through so much editing it's insane, so I hope you guys enjoy it!

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Minor Swearing and Death ⚠️ Spoilers for: S1 ⚠️

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Snake-Demon! Reader ; Black Mamba Snake

🐍 Sir Pentious and you met when you were children back in the 1800s

🐍 You were one of the children to a higher-ranked family in your hometown, while Pentious was under your family's thumb, much to your annoyance

🐍 He and you bonded over your love for mechanisms, especially those that have caused harm. For some weird reason, you guys would just pull a worm out of the ground and use it for an experiment, it was right there! Why not?

🐍 Due to your closeness, you and the former human had gotten married and begun to start your family quite early on in life, maybe around your early 20s of so

🐍 As you both aged, so did your children, though they sadly passed away earlier in life due to catching a then-dangerous illness, scarlet fever

🐍 Pentious had involved himself to much into his inventions afterwards that when you both had died, your envy of people's happy lives and his sins for his inventions ended up banishing you both to hell

🐍 You guys had made your way through a lot, and when he came home elated with the news that Vox had recruited him to spy on the Hotel and detect any kind of information from Alastor, you had started to get a hint angry. Why was he believing the words of a master manipulator? Who knows...

🐍 When he was found out, you were so close to going to V-Tower and ripping that moth-dick-sucking bastard a new ass

🐍 But, your husband had held you back and had asked you what you thought about redemption, you know, getting to join Heaven and maybe see your long-lost children once again

🐍 Jumping at the idea, your tiny hat on your head's eye had sparkles as Pentious' had tiny hearts as you hugged him and gave him love-filled words

🐍 It took a lot of work on your behalf, due to being a fairly aggressive person, but, when your husband had gunned it for his ship, you went right after him and hugged him tightly as he mumbled the final word you thought you'd ever hear of his; Fire.

🐍 As you awoke in a brighter land, you had looked around and noticed your husband, grabbing his hand you allowed your smoother-feeling fangs to be revealed as two angels stared in shock and glee

🐍 Wait- angels?!

" You must be redeemed souls! This is so cool! I'm Emily, one of the Seraphs of Heaven, it's so nice to meet you guys! " " Uhm- it's nice to meet you as well, my dear. I'm Y/N and this is my husband Sir Pentious. "

🐍 While Emily had taken you and Pentious away from Sera to give her some space to think, she smiled at you and you sighed when you heard the echo of a young girl's voice, your daughter's voice come out

" Y/N? Someone seems to be calling for you. "

🐍 Hearing a deflating noise and sniff coming from your dearest, you looked at him and saw he was crying as he held onto a small being, a young girl with his matching color scheme but a physical form that matched you

🐍 It was your daughter... your oldest one

" Mom/Papa! You're both here! (M/N) and (F/N) and gonna be so happy when they see you guys! Come on! "

🐍 Tears pricked your eyes as her cute slit pupils looked into your with the same sparkles as she held when she passed away so many years ago

🐍 At that moment, you fell to your knees and pulled your husband with you, hugging your daughter and him tightly as Emily squealed internally at the cute scene

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Insect-Demon! Reader ; Firefly / Lightning Bug

🕷️ Due to being from multiple dozens of years before really anyone left alive in Hell, you and Zestial had a very special bond from life; marriage

🕷️ You and him had a fairly well-received settlement when alive, and that had carried on into death

🕷️ But, there was one thing that you hadn't really thought about for a while; your children, two boys and two girls

🕷️ After you had died, all four of your children had survived until their old ages, and when they finally fell into the same plot hole that you and their father had, you graciously accepted them into your family's now shared domain in this retched land

🕷️ Your husband, Zestial, was an overlord while you had the same amount of power and just never really saw fit to use it, after all, you didn't have much to care for other than your family's safety

🕷️ Zestial could take the reins here

🕷️ One night, he had come home carrying something inside of his flesh-jacket, making you cock an eyebrow as your wings slightly shook, allowing a dimly-lit green light to emerge from your midsection and tiny 'tail'

" Mine own loveth, what doth thee has't inside of thy doublet? " " I shalt showeth thee. But, thee might not but gage to not obtaineth thy ang'r and showeth t to me. " " I crosseth mine own heart and desire to kicketh the bucket again, and I'll sticketh a partisan through mine own chest. "

🕷️ Opening the flesh-covering a small rodent-demon, specifically a chinchilla, had come outside, their large and silver-coated ears sticking to their head in slight fear at the sight of a large insect-demon such as yourself

🕷️ The antenna on your head slightly raised as you stared down at the appearing hell-born, how in the name of Satan did a child manage to get here?

" Zestial, wherefore is th're a bawbling issue standing in front of me? Prithee bid me thee didst not abuduct that gent... " " Oh marry nay. I wast just taking a stroll aft'r the latest ov'rl'rd meeting and hadst cometh across the young thing standing th're while mumbling in our tongue. I couldn't just leaveth that gent th're, yond'd beest far to malapert. "

🕷️ Smiling at your husband and kneeling down to look the child in their large black eyes, you then asked him the question that would make your family even larger than it was before;

" Wouldst thee liketh to stayeth with us, young sir? "

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✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Link to Valentino and Vox Post:

What Are They Like As Parents? - Hazbin Hotel

[thequeenluffy]

1st this is not my photo here is the link!

2nd. Some PunkFlower Headcanon

These Headcanon's are always under the impression that these two are at most 1-2 years apart and no more. if ppl add smth to these notes abt them fuck off.

I'm a relatively late comer to Across the Spider verse, the movies came out ages ago and I hadn't watched them. Finally watched them with some friends hardly like 2-3 weeks ago. We watched the 1st movie one week and the 2nd one the week after and I was in love. Miles is adorable, i thought his friendship with Gwen was nice. it was a good change of pace from the Gwen/Peter Parker romance Canon Event. All the spiders you see are so good! But Hobie holds a special ass place in my heart frfr anyway

Headcanon's under the cut!

Hobie would be so soft with Miles. Im talking about petting literally any part of Miles that he can get his hands on in such a non-sexual way. Wanting to be in constant contact with him. Leaning on him. Having their hands or thighs or feet touching. Constant cuddling. Like ppl think Miles is starting the cuddles sessions. Nope. Hobie. That man wants to be on top of Miles in a non-sexual way.

fr like

"Miles, luv, come 'ere," Hobie whined from where he was sprawled against the headboard of Miles' bed. He wanted some cuddles from his Sunflower before he had to pop back over to his place for a while. Can't stop governmental regimes when your too busy getting busy with your partner. Miles would sigh and stand up from where he was hunched over his desk like gremlin. Stretching as he went before he flopped onto Hobie's lap. The taller man let out a slight oof at the sudden weight, flashing a dull pink color before humming happily. His hand going right to Miles' back, running a gentle fingers up and down the other's back. Making Miles' shiver always made a smirk fill out Hobie's face, but the sudden stream of sunflower, mine, I love yous, and all showing up on his jaw and curling round Hobie's ear betrayed him.

They'd do each others hair on wash days. Like Miles would help Hobie clean his wicks and fix 'em up when his hair grows out. Obv Hobie would return the favor with Miles, help him with his edges and over all Maintenance of his hair.

Just the two sitting down in the middle of the month on a random weekday to wash down Hobie's hair.

Hobie's hair was a lot he knew it anybody who saw him knew it. His wicks was mint. So of course he took care of 'em. Miles sets up the bathroom with the wash basin and Hobie sets up the old hair dryer that he and Riri fixed up. Then finally, Hobie lays back so that Miles can massage the shampoo into each wick and then scrub his scalp. A real, honest pampering of this tall lanky ass punk. After the wash Miles makes Hobie sit under the dryer for around, "five, six, seve- sit yo happy ass in that chair Hobs, I wanna get your wicks done today, papi." It was always said with such fondness that Hobie would only huff before he slouched down into the chair.

Or Hobie, just setting up the basin and dryer to give Miles a proper pampering.

"Sunflower, sit." Hobie nearly purred as Miles' stepped through the door. Quirking an eyebrow as he looked around the room noticing all the hair stuff littering the room. He rolled his eyes fondly picking his way through the room taking the headphones from around his neck and putting them on the table he threw his oversized jacket; that was probably Hobie's on to the back of a chair. Finally he sat down, "what's the occasion?" he said nodding to the all the hair shit. "Its ya wash day, luv, gotta pamper and spoil my sunflower," Hobie said in his low rasping voice. As he got to rubbing in the water into Miles' hair.

Hobie constantly writes songs that reference or refer to Miles' in some way shape or form! He still writes and makes punk music, he just also writes some soft shit for sunflower's ears only.

I literally cant come up with more rn but I know for a fact I have some more but its late and i wanna go to bed lmao

[thatrandomartistjaviarts]

A while ago, I said I would draw my EAH OC that’s supposed to be the Mayor of Hamelin. Since it is Class of Classics month I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to finally draw her

Yapping and her older version below the cut:

As you can see, Halima is Professor Piper's Mayor of Hamelin. She was originally a joke character because I thought the idea of the Mayor and Piper being classmates was hilarious. And she hasn't really evolved much ig? Like she technically doesn't have much depth

She's a very snobby, self centered rich person. The values her family has had since the beginning of time have always been to accumulate and keep as much money as humanly possible. It doesn't help with the Destiny System encouraging this mentality with their destiny being to withhold the money they had promised to the Piper

She was somewhat taught to care for her village but mainly to think about how it would affect her and her bottom line. You can probably take a guess that these values made it so that she wouldn't grow up with having much respect for the lower class. Less so for the Pied Pipers themselves. The Pipers kinda also trash talk about them to their children, but they were more subtle about it. The Mayors however are not subtle and just name drops them to their kids as a way to tell them they'll always be better than them.

So when Halima arrived to Ever After High, she was enraged at the fact she was roomed with her Pied Piper. What makes it worse(for her) that he was a wimpy, nerdy, awkward weirdo. They both tried to change their roommates but HM Grimm was very firm on keeping them as roommates. This is where Halima's #1 character trait is because they were able to be changed by the end of the first semester! Due to all the bullying Piper endured from her. She would have bullied him regardless since she's a rich mean girl and he's a nerd weirdo but them being roommates made it 100% worse. After getting switched, she does still bully him tho it becomes less extreme the more time goes by due to Piper hanging out with Cheshire and Badwolf and other people that wouldn't tolerate Halima's shenanigans

As a character, she can out on an innocent face but in reality she's very cruel and mean, and she never really matured out of this behavior. The design above is her as a teenager. I wanted her to have a businesswoman look. She's kinda of a girlboss with her scamming a guy out of his money yknow /j But seriously, she does try to put on this aura of business even tho she's like 13 so that the other Royals can take her seriously. She is a Royal but she's not a royal. Kinda like Blondie but less extreme. Her main color is blue with her secondary being silver to contrast Piper's red and gold. Her belt is also a reference to real Coat of Arms of the real Hameln.

This is her in the current day. As a mother she is like her parents before her, instilling the classic family beliefs and just spoiling the shit out of her son. She is like the final boss of PTA moms. Which sucks so much for Piper cause he has to tolerate her obnoxious ass.

Her voice claim for both ages is Glinda but different Glindas. Her teenage self is Ariana's Glinda while her as an adult is Kristen's Glinda

Hopefully this was comprehensible.

@calebs-hangout-corner @the-lavender-creator @thesilliestofgals @thelivingmemegod @rarepairqueenmochi

[quibbs126]

So a couple of days ago, I decided “you know what? I might as well try my hand at human designs for the Cookies”. Granted I only did the bust because I’m lazy. But yeah that’s what this is

And in addition to that because I thought it’d be fun, I gave myself a rule that the characters can only have natural skin, hair and eye colors, unless their character would make relative sense to have dyed hair or colored contacts, as you can see with Princess and Wildberry

I drew Dark Choco and Dark Cacao first since they’re my hyperfixations, they should be the first ones I draw. And then I drew the Hollyberry family because with their pink and blue hair, I thought it’d be fun to try and change them. But after I finished them, I didn’t know who else to put nor did I have a lot of room, so I just left it at them

I’m just gonna list random things about the designs now

I’m not entirely sure where Dark Choco and Cacao’s streaks come from, but I couldn’t just get rid of them. For Dark Choco, I’d say either dye or stress, and for Dark Cacao, either stress or age (though given he’s had them streaks since a young age, stress is probably the more likely option)

I gave Dark Cacao grey eyes, but maybe I should have gone with black instead. Probably more realistic. And for that matter dark eyes probably would have been the better option for Wildberry too. Hm

I admit, I probably should have gone with a lighter red for Hollyberry, Royal Berry and Princess’s hair, but I gave them that shade since I thought Hollyberry would look good with dark red hair

I really didn’t want to draw Hollyberry’s hair, it was a pain. I’d much rather draw it down, but the updo is more accurate to her, so eh

Royal Berry looks like a barber to me

I made Jungleberry and Tiger Lily’s hair black because I feel like it’s a thing for blue to be a substitute for black, like in older movies and such, so I did it the other way around, and also it wouldn’t make sense for either of them to have dyed hair

This was my first time drawing Jungleberry and I quite liked drawing her

Drawing Princess here was what finally got me to understand just what her hairstyle is supposed to be. I know I’ve seen it before, I think in Berserk, but I don’t remember who had it so I can’t show you a picture of what I mean. But I get how her hair works now

Speaking of her hair, I admit, I took liberties with making her hair curly, especially since no one else in her family has visibly curly hair, but to be honest I think I did that because I have dark red coily hair that’s also curly. So I was probably just taking reference from myself. I also share dark brown eyes, but I have no trace of her melanin, I am very pale

I made the red/pink eyes brown since I figured those were the closest colors and a good translation, but I ran into a problem when I realized Jungleberry already has brown eyes. So just shh there, ignore it

I don’t know how dreads work I apologize

In my head Wildberry dyes his hair red because that’s Hollyberry’s hair color, hence why it’s red and not pink

And I think that’s about it. I’ll probably do more of these since this was fun, but I don’t know when or who I’ll do next

[koalasnooze]

•Suffering: EPIC the musical•

Medium: Digital

|••••••••••••••••••💛•••••••••••••••••|

I've FINALLY. Made an art piece/fanart for EPIC: the musical. I'm so happy 🥲

This was a flat color, full piece based on the song suffering from EPIC: the musical.

I got into EPIC like a year ago in summer,two months (I think) before the thunder saga dropped,and it changed my life.

And I've been wanting to make some sort of art based on epic,but like many songs,characters, and other drawing projects,I didn't have time or the motivation to do so. Until last December.

EPIC also reinvigorated my interest in the greek mythos,and now I'm on the hunt for the odyssey to read it. (And with the help of OSP,I now want to read ALL of the "trilogy." I'm hunting for the illiad and the aeneid too :D)

Anyway,I wanted to portray odysseus's age,since he was away from home for 20 years. And the thunder saga took place 12 years after the Trojan war,and after all the other story stuff that happens-

So I added grey hairs to ody. I also tried to combine Jorge and odysessus statues to make the image of odysseus. I made the pieces color palette yellow,based on the thunder saga's cover art.

For Siren Penelope,I wanted to give reference to the original AND modern sirens by giving her feathers on her back and scales on her arm (which ody can't see). I also made her little cloaky cape red to contrast odysseus's blue (and to hint, "hey,this ISN'T penelope!".

I hope it's really obvious I loved making this and I'm a slight greek mythos (and EPIC) Nerd 🤓

-KoalaSnooze

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Movie Madness

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When Dean drops in unexpectedly, you decide on an activity to get both of your pulses racing. Reader is a med-student in college and works in a library. This is the fourth fic in my Before You Go Universe, but can be read as stand alone (probably?).

Tropes: Fluff, Established Relationships, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early to mid-30's)

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), Mentions of sex (not explicit at all), Implied sex, Sexual Innuendo, SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE ALIEN,  Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIPs folder forever and I really just wanted to write a fluff where Dean had never seen Alien and the reader remedies that. 😊

"Okay, next question: What is the first step in glycolysis, what does it create, and what does it use?" Tim asks, lounging back against one of the dusty bookshelves.

 It was a Friday night, which normally meant you were gone to see Dean at the bunker, but this weekend he was off in Maine, dealing with a pack of werewolves and you had picked up a shift at the library.

Usually you would be disappointed that you couldn't see him, but due to the giant test looming over your head on Monday, you were happy to relax and study with your lab partner, Tim.

Tim stretched out his legs as far as they could go between the two bookshelves, while you read through the call numbers on the weathered spines of the faded books waiting to be replaced back on the dusty shelves in front of you. Tim, true to his word, had come to help you study. He had been happy to hear that you weren't going to see Dean, because he was also having a hard time with the material and he always said that quizzing someone else made him remember the information more anyway so he'd shown up three hours ago and hadn't left.

"Ohh I know this." You groan, resting your head against the bookshelf and bracing your arms on the metal ledge.

"I'm sure you do. Since you were asleep during the lecture on glycolysis."

"Hey. What happened to no judgement between us?" You turn your head to glare at your lab partner. "I didn't judge you when you dated  that finance major who didn't know that the Earl of Sandwich was a person."

"An honest mistake-"

"Or when you couldn't find your glasses for two hours when you were wearing them-"

"It's very easy to do that when you have glasses. And you didn’t tell me that I was wearing them! You have no idea-"

"Or when you-"

"Okay! I give. Make it stop." He groans, kicking out at the back of your calf with his foot, but you dodge him. "Just answer the question."

"Fine."

You stand there for a minute trying to mentally compartmentalize your notes, flipping through them page by page, shuffling through the color-coded diagrams you drew for the glycolysis cycle two days ago, because yes you had fallen asleep during the lecture but you had forced yourself to go through the posted PowerPoints. "Okay. In the first step it's glucose being turned into D-glucose-6-Phosphate and it uses the-um-." You groan. "Oh it uses hexokinase."

"Finally, and yes that's right. What's the next step, what does it use, and what does it create?" Tim asks.

You turn back to the cart of dusty volumes, picking a faded red encyclopedia etched with gold script and note the call number.

You walk around the bookshelf to the other side where the call number should be, brushing your fingertips along the worn spines that line the walls and breathe in the scent of old books. It was enough to calm you down. Something about being surrounded by them always made you feel at home. Your mother was always reading worn paperbacks in her chair by the window with a cup of tea steaming in the early morning light back home, in the library that your father had made her in one of the spare bedrooms at your house. Whenever you found the time to read, it made you think of her, of course finding time to read was difficult.

You hadn't been back to see your parents since last Christmas, called them yes, and you knew deep down at some point you'd have to introduce Dean to them, but you kept putting that off, mostly because you didn't want to tell them what he did. Whenever your mom asked on the phone, you changed the subject, because it hurt you to lie to them. You were so close with both of them that it made everything complicated to keep Dean from them.

"Hello?" Tim says from the other side of the bookshelf. "Did you get lost or something?"

"Huh? Oh no I'm just thinking." You reach up on tip-toe to place the volume on the top shelf where it belongs. "Okay, I’m pretty sure the second step is D-glucose-6-Phosphate to Fructo-"

Someone grabs you from behind, wrapping their strong arms around your waist to pull you back into their chest, while planting their lips directly on the slope of your neck.

You open your mouth to scream, but then you hear Dean's rough voice in your ear.

"Did you miss me sweetheart?" He kisses you again, trailing his lips down your neck into the shadow of your jaw.

"Dean what the hell? You scared the crap out of me." You hiss turning around to hit him with the large volume still clutched in your hands. But despite your anger, you were happy to see him.

There was a little more wear around his eyes and the dark circles that rimmed them were prominent against his skin, the shadow of his beard was more apparent, but his eyes still shone bright green with his smile when he looked at you, making you feel like you were going to melt.

It wasn't a new feeling, and you hoped that it never went away.

"Sorry sweetheart." Dean laughs, dodging another swing of the encyclopedia. "You looked so cute putting the books away I had to."

"You're the worst."

He grabs the front of your sweatshirt and pulls you into him so that his lips are inches from yours, but does not kiss you. "Am I?" Dean breathes, close enough that you can feel the scratch of stubble against your skin and long for him to close the distance between the two of you.

"Yes." Your hands curl in the front of his black shirt beneath his leather jacket.

Dean kisses you earnestly, drawing the next breath from your lungs as you breathe him in, drunk on his smell and taste after only a few seconds. There really was nothing like kissing Dean, the subtle tilt of your head back, the gentle scrape of his beard against your cheeks, the soft sound he makes when he deepens the kiss, and the way he holds you close, almost as if he believes you will fade away in his arms.

"How about now?" He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

"You might be raising your rating." You smile, tightening your fingers in his hair. He'd been allowing it to grow a little longer and you loved it.

"Anything else I might be able to do to get it a bit higher, Sweetheart?" Dean smirks.

"Maybe-"

"Alright, I think that I've given you long enough to-" Tim begins to say rounding the corner of the bookshelves, but stops mid-sentence when he spots Dean. His eyes narrow a fraction.

"Hey there Tom!" Dean smiles as he pulls you closer to his chest, but raises his head up to give Tim a winning smile.

"It's Tim." Tim replies with a frown.

Tim had only seen Dean a handful of times and each time he did, you noticed how much he seemed to hate Dean. You couldn't think of a reason why. Dean hadn't done anything worth Tim's hatred. You had tried to act as a mediator in the past, tried to get Tim to get to know Dean before passing judgement, but nothing seemed to work.

In fact you had invited Tim to come with Dean and you to get a drink one night after class, but it had ended with you pretending that you forgot to return a phone call from your mother and you dragging a fuming Dean out of the bar while Tim glared at him.

That night had been awkward for everyone.

The entire time Tim had emphasized how important a college degree was and how important everything the two of you were doing at med school was, while glaring at Dean and almost implying that Dean was wasting your time. And when Dean told him he barely finished high school, Tim had laughed at him. Which made you angry, because you knew that Dean struggled with that, that he struggled thinking that you deserved better because he wasn’t educated the same way.

The next day you had received a phone call from Tim who apologized for what he'd said and stated that he was having a bad day and drank too much, but what he said to Dean still stung.

Dean didn't deserve to be treated like trash, didn't deserve to be put down because he didn't go to college, but you allowed yourself to forgive Tim. He was one of your only friends at school. However, you still didn't understand why he hated Dean so much.

An awkward silence passes between the three of you.

"Well I'm gonna go." Tim says looking from you to Dean. "I've got an early shift tomorrow. But let me know if you want to study again before the test."

"Okay, I'll text you later. Oh and I'll add you to the google doc for the notes I made." You smile at him, while leaning into Dean's embrace subconsciously. It had been two weeks since you'd seen him and you didn't realize how much you missed him until this moment.

"Sure." Tim turns to go back for his backpack on the other side.

"Bye Tom." Dean calls at his retreating back.

You sigh grabbing Dean's chin and bring his face back down to look at you. "You know his name."

"Do I?" Dean scrunches his face up as if trying to remember.

"Dean-"

"I'm just joking with him sweetheart. He's gotta learn to lighten up." Dean rolls his eyes, but then brushes his lips against yours, making your mind go completely blank. "I missed you."

"Is that why you're back early from your 'hunting trip'?" You smile against his lips.

"Maybe. That and it turned out not to be a pack of werewolves, but a very angry bear. Yogi didn't get the memo about eating hikers."

"Guess that makes you Ranger Smith. Please tell me that Sam or Cas had to dress up like Cindy Bear to appease Yogi and that you got pictures." You plead tugging at his hair hoping that Dean is about to make this the best day of your life.

"I love how much you know about Yogi Bear-"

"Oh that's nothing, you should hear me talk about Scooby Doo. My sister and I used to watch it all the time and let me be the first to say, Daphne deserved better."

It was an argument that your sister and you got into more than once, she was team Fred all the way, but you think that Daphne deserved better than a guy who was more focused on himself rather than anyone else. Not to mention he always let her get into trouble and he never seemed to care about her. Meanwhile your sister always said that he was trying to act aloof and sexy.

I miss her so much.

Dean freezes as soon as soon as you say it.

"Dean?" You look up at him worried. "Are you okay? Oh no, please don't tell me that you think that Daphne and Fred should-"

He picks you up and pins you to the bookshelf behind you, but before you can ask him again if he's okay, his lips are against yours.

He tastes like beer, coffee, and something sweet that you can't identify, both intoxicating and invigorating. The smell of his cologne and shampoo floods through your nose followed closely by the smell of leather and gun metal. Dean pulls your thighs up around him to secure you against his waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue  brushing against yours in a wicked dance that drives all thoughts from your mind.  You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair to force his mouth harder against yours, not wanting him to stop.  It'd been so long since you'd seen him, since you'd had any time with him, since he'd touched you-

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Dean whispers against your lips. "Because every time I see you I don't think that I can love you more and then you say something like that."

"That Daphne deserved better?" You smile.

Dean kisses you as soon as you say it, holding you so tight against him it's almost painful, but you don't care, because it reminds you that he's here with you.

"Say it again." He mutters.

"Daphne deserved better."

"Fuck I love you."

"And I love that each time I see you I find out more about your weird kinks." You snort rubbing the back of his head gently in the way you know he likes.

"It's not a kink, it's the truth." Dean sighs while adjusting his grip under your thighs to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"Mhmm. Sure."

"So how much longer do you have to work?" He asks.

You glance at the watch on your wrist behind his head. "About an hour. Longer if you keep distracting me."

"I'm a wonderful distraction Sweetheart. Wouldn't mind distracting you for a little longer." Dean's mouth drifts to your jaw.

"Dean." You sigh. "I love you baby, but can I please finish putting these away?"

"In a minute." He continues to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking a mark just below your jaw. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." You sigh, knotting your hands in his hair and securing him against your neck.

"Have I ever told you that you're the sexiest librarian I've ever seen?" Dean murmurs.

"Given how many you've watched on your laptop I'll take that as a compliment." You snort. "But they're probably wearing less clothes than I am-"

"I can fix that sweetheart."

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend, but you’re not opposed to what he’s suggesting. "How long can you stay?"

"Few days."

"Hmm."

"What do you think we should do with all that time?" Dean looks up with a mischievous glint in his eye that makes a shudder go down your spine.

"I have a few ideas."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Something that will get our pulses racing." You kiss Dean, but before he can deepen it you pull back. "And maybe a few things that'll make me scream." You whisper, your breath upon his lips. "Would you like that Dean?"

"I think I would."

"Good."

"You know when you asked me if I wanted to hear you scream and wanted to get our pulses racing, this wasn't what I had in mind." Dean frowns, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing the extra large cheese pizza down on the end of your bed.

"Really? Huh. Can't imagine what else you were thinking about." You reply with an shrug, shuffling through your collection of DVD's to look for your favorite one.

"You act so innocent Sweetheart, but we both know how much trouble you seem to get us into all the time."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You finally see the familiar cover of your Alien Movie collection. "I can't believe you've never seen Alien before. It truly is one of the best movies in history." You set up the DVD player and grab the remote while Dean changes into his boxers.

You were looking forward to a relaxing night of watching movies and eating copious amounts of snacks and pizza to drown out the worry for the test on Monday. You figured that you had studied enough today with Tim at the library and now you were taking a well deserved break with Dean and your favorite comfort movie, Alien.

As soon as you found out Dean had never seen it, you'd wanted to make him watch it, but there never seemed to be time and tonight was perfect. You had grabbed a pizza on the way back, as well as every type of candy you could think of, beer (Dean's contribution), and popcorn.

"I was never really into Sci-Fi. That's more Sam." Dean sighs, nestling down on your small full sized bed, avoiding the pizza box.

"We both know that's a lie. You like Godzilla vs. Mothra!" You shout, changing out of your jeans and t-shirt, before grabbing the flannel that Dean took off a few seconds ago. It was still warm, but soft against your skin. “Not to mention I’ve heard you make at least seven Star Trek jokes.”

"Godzilla vs. Mothra is not really Sci-fi, that's giant monster destroying a city and it's awesome." Dean replies not taking his eyes off of you as you button up the flannel and ignoring your comment about Star Trek.

"Yes it is awesome and it most definitely is Sci-fi. And Alien is Sci-Fi for people who like Sci-fi and awesome monster movie for people who pretend to hate Sci-Fi like you. It has something for everyone, even cat lovers!" You get on the bed, sitting cross-legged next to him as you reach for the pizza and the bag that holds all your other snacks.

"Cat lovers?"

"There's a cat in this movie, Jonesy. He's adorable." You grab a slice of pizza and try not to moan out loud at the taste. "I love you." You whisper as you take another bite of the cheesy goodness.

"I love you too Sweetheart." Dean says with a heart-warming smile, not understanding that you are in fact talking to the pizza and not to him.

"Um. Well I love you too Dean-" You laugh awkwardly.

He frowns at you. "You were talking to the pizza weren't you?"

"No…"

Dean snorts and grabs a slice for himself. "Go on and start the movie. I doubt that I'll be able to stay awake for it."

"You're gonna love it!" You say leaning into his shoulder as you continue to eat.

"Uh-huh sure. How about we make this interesting?”

“How?” You lean your head back to look up at him.

“Well if I guess who dies one by one correctly, you take off a piece of clothing and if I guess wrong then I take off a piece of clothing.” He purrs tracing the edges of where his flannel hits your thighs.

“Dean you’re only wearing boxers. And I’m only wearing your shirt and underwear."

“Even better. Only have one wrong answer for me, and two correct ones for you.” He smirks wider.

“Are you trying to distract me from my favorite movie with the promise of sex?”

Dean leans in towards your face. “That depends. Is it working?”

You look at him, eyes tracing his handsome features, thinking about how much you missed him. “Nope.” You reply raising your slice of pizza between the two of you and taking a large bite.

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs a beer, snapping the metal top off with his bare hand.

How does he do something so normal and make it be so sexy?

“I promise that you’re gonna love it. And if you don’t, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You stoke your hand down his muscular chest.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He grumbles, before pulling you into his side as the opening music fills your bedroom.

You’d seen Alien maybe a million times. Monster movies were your sister and your favorite and the Alien movie series was the subject of many movie nights you spent with her before she got married. Binge watching all of them while eating probably cancer inducing junk food was a regular occurrence. Not to mention her bachelorette theme was badass female characters and she had proudly dressed up like Ripley. 

You were excited to share this with him, and as much as he protested watching it, you knew that Dean was going to love  it.

"I'm gonna go make popcorn." You say shuffling through the bag of snacks for the box of microwavable popcorn that you were sure was at the bottom.

"What?" Dean perks up.

"I'm going to go make popcorn." You pull yourself from his arms, stretching your arms up to the ceiling before making your way to your bedroom door.

"I'll-um- I'll go with you." Dean clears his throat, rising from the bed to follow.

"What?" You turn to look at him.

You'd been watching for over an hour, long enough for the Xenomorph to be on the loose in the spaceship and long enough for him to see what a badass Ripley was. She was and you wouldn’t apologize for dumping Dean if you ever had a chance with her.

But Dean seemed to be enjoying the movie. He’d yelled for a solid five minutes at the crew who stood by and watched the xenomorph explode out of their friend’s chest and he’d grabbed you by the waist and shook you when the captain got killed in the air vents while screaming “it’s your fault he’s dead” to the characters on the screen.

He was hooked.

"I'm going to help you make the popcorn." He repeats, but he won't quite look at you, his eyes are shifting through your room, tracing over the dark shapes.

"Okay." You were confused as to why he was coming with you, but you shrug and walk out into your living room.

The apartment is quiet and dark. Your roommate, Suze, hadn't been home when you got there and you didn't know when she was coming back or if she would. She'd been spending an inordinate amount of time at her new boyfriend Matt's house, a boyfriend that you actually didn't hate running into and didn't make you feel uncomfortable.

After everything that happened with her ex Cooper, you had wondered if things between Suze and you would go back to normal. There had been a few awkward hello's and goodbye's, but since she started dating Matt about a month ago things seemed to settle down. So much so that she had actually invited you to come with them to get a drink one night and you were allowed to bring Dean, and it wasn't awkward, maybe at first, but not now. It had only taken two years for your roommate to actually like you.

I'll leave her a note to let her know that there's some extra beer in the fridge if she wants it.

You begin to open the box of popcorn to reach the plastic packets inside.

"Did you hear that?" Dean says, turning towards your front door and shielding your body from it like it's going to attack you.

"Hear what?" The plastic popcorn packet rustles as you tear it open before you place it into the microwave.

"That weird noise."

"Dean, I think you're hearing things."

"I am not!" He walks towards the door carefully.

"Yes you are." You stop for a second, watching his tense stature, and suddenly understand why he wanted to come with you into the kitchen. "Wait a minute, are you scared?"

"Huh?" Dean peeks over his shoulder eyes wide.

"You are! You're scared!" You snort. "I can’t believe this."

"I'm not scared." Dean lies, standing up straighter.

"Wow. Big bad Dean Winchester is scared of aliens."

"I am not!" He plants his hands on his hips, but its not enough to convince you.

"How are you scared of that? You see stuff worse than Xenomorphs everyday!" You laugh again, turning back to the microwave to pour the now made popcorn into a stainless steel bowl. 

"I don't see aliens. And I sure as hell don't see something like that!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." You shake your head at him, practically skipping back into your room. "And I thought this day couldn't get any better."

Dean collapses on the bed next to you in a huff. "How are you not afraid of that thing?"

"I’m honestly more disappointed that you haven’t proved their existence.”

“You want something like that to exist?”

“I mean it’s kinda cool-“

"Cool? You think that thing is cool?” Dean's mouth drops open in surprise.

“Yeah?” You shrug and pop a piece of the popcorn in your mouth.

“It’s got acid for blood!”

“So what you’re saying is, if one of those was on the loose you wouldn’t protect me?” You force your smile into an attractive pout, fluttering your eyelashes at Dean.

 He looks you right in the eye, without blinking and states, “Babe you’re on your own.”

 “Wow. It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, I’m not scared.” Dean huffs as you fasten you arms around his chest and lay your head over his heart.

As the movie continues you keep sneaking glances at Dean, who has begun to subconsciously press you tighter and tighter against his chest with the arm he has wrapped around your back. He hasn't taken his eyes off the screen, the most he'd done is stress eat his way through all of your snacks.

But you loved it. You cuddled further into his chest, smiling against his skin as you did. You loved having these moments with him, hadn't had one with him in almost two weeks. The most the two of you had done was talk on the phone until you fell asleep, but you missed this. You missed your sexy, gentle, kind, passionate, caring, and gorgeous boyfriend.

“Come on. The CAT IS SMARTER THAN ALL OF THEM!” He shouts wincing as another crew member is killed by the creature.

“Yes it is.”  You snort.

"We should get a cat."

"What? Are you even a cat person?" You sit up and look at Dean, who is still watching the movie with wide eyes.

"I could be! It could tell that fucking thing was there! It was warning them and they didn’t listen and now they’re dead! See if we had a cat I’d listen to him." He argues.

"What are you the cat whisperer?"

"If it started acting weird then we’d know one of those things was around!" Dean shouts squeezing you tighter against his bare chest, his eyes still glued to the t.v.

Is it wrong that I like seeing him like this?

You'd never seen him afraid before, but it was giving you a sickening amount of joy for him to be clutching on to you so tightly. That was probably because you missed him so much and it was nice to be in his arms again, even if he was cutting off circulation to the top half of your body.

"Cats always act weird. They're cats. It’s kinda the whole deal."

"Do you like cats?"

"I could. I like dogs. I always wanted a pet when I was younger, but my sister is allergic." You frown at the tv.

When you were a kid you hadn't seen a problem and brought home a random dog while telling your sister loudly to "hold her breath."

Your parents hadn't thought it was as funny as you had.

"How is she doing?" Dean asks turning to look at you as the end credits roll.

He hadn't met any of your family yet and you were planning on asking Dean to come home with you for thanksgiving in a few weeks, but you weren't sure it was a good idea. You loved him and he loved you, but you were afraid that he would freak out about meeting your family. You knew that he wasn't used to something like that, meeting a significant other's family,  and you didn't want to push him to do something uncomfortable.

Then again, the premise of free food will probably entice him. Not to mention my mom is the best cook in the world.

"Good. The baby is due in November and she's hoping that it'll be out by Thanksgiving because she doesn’t want to miss the one holiday that doesn't fat shame you for taking another plate. I just called her the other day, she can’t wait for it to be over."

You also hadn't seen your sister in a little bit, but it was difficult to balance that, especially because she lived so far away and you were trying to balance work, school, and Dean. But you did get a phone call out to her at least once every week. Lately it had been more because she liked to call to complain about being pregnant and because her husband was away on business, she wasn't able to do it to him.

"How’s her husband?"

"He’s good. Just got promoted. I still have no idea what he does. She says she doesn’t either. Every time I asks my brain turns off. Then again she said she’d be okay if he was out there shaking it for dollar bills, as long as he brings money home."

"I think I love your sister."

"She is pretty great. And honestly, it seems like a nice way to pick up some extra cash-"

"No." Dean smiles slips into a frown.

"No what?" You ask him confused.

"You’re not allowed to become a stripper."

"I didn’t say I wanted to. Just that it might be a viable option to getting some cash on the side."

"No.” Dean’s eyes flick from where Ripley is fighting the alien in the escape pod to focus on you.

“You know it’s a free country and if I wanted to be a stripper I could."

"Nope."

"What?"

"Sorry doll. The only one that gets to see this sexy  body is me."

“I think you’re being selfish.”

“Yes unashamedly. I want you all to myself.” Deans smile shifts into a smirk, eyes glinting mischievously. “Though if you wanted to give me a show I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

"So what did you think about the movie?"

"I liked it, though I think it's kind of a red flag that this is your comfort movie."

"Says the guy who's entire trunk of his car is a red flag."

"I'm serious. How is this your comfort movie?" Dean gestures at the end credits that continue to scroll to the iconic soundtrack.

"I don't know. I like it. It makes me feel better about my problems watching them all scramble around."

"You're so weird." Dean sighs shaking his head.

"I know. It's great isn't it?" You flash a wide grin and elbow him in the side.

"Keeps me on my toes."

You find the box that contains the entire collection underneath the wrappers of all the snacks and wave it in front of you to taunt him. “So I’ve got the next three on DVD. Unless you’re too scared Winchester.”

“Bring it on!”

"Or," You smile up at him. "We could take a break because you were very brave. And maybe you deserve a reward." You press a kiss along the edge of his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against the soft pillow of your lips. Dean had allowed it to grow out a little more than usual and you loved that.

"And what would we do?" Dean asks you innocently, but his green eyes gleam with mischief, tracing down to where his shirt rests over your thighs.

"Something that would get our pulses racing-"

Dean tackles you back against your bed, his lips inches apart from yours. “I’d like that sweetheart.”

“Thought so.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Before You Go Series please let me know! 😊

Taglist:

@sunnyhummingbee @roseblue373 @brightlilith @snowayumi @ladysparkles78

@kittydeany77 @daisy-the-quake @mrsjenniferwinchester

[00lunect]

★Human Pumkin★

Hello world and all who inhabit it! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧. How are you? I hope you're doing well and all that.

But anyway! While I'm working on another one of my drawings, I decided to post this quick thing I made a few days ago when I was still deciding what to draw. None other than the human version of my Troll OC: Pumkin! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧.

(If you're not familiar with Pumpkin, here's the link to her character sheet)

A friend on Discord recommended it to me to practice more poses without leaving aside my hyperfixation. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠). So, I decided to give it a try. Especially since I've been drawing a lot of Trolls lately (and probably drew even more) and I don't want to forget how the Hell our species is supposed to be drawn, so I've set myself the goal of trying to draw a human form in a particular pose after a certain amount of time drawing Trolls, although we'll see if I stick to it and follow through. XD

But anyway, back to the drawing, this is the human version of Pumkin! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+. Although I warn you that this won't be her final design because I did it relatively quickly and didn't pay much attention to the process of "adapting" her design to a human body with normal proportions, which is why things like her hair, glasses, and overalls are more cartoonish and don't have as much detail. The truth is, I didn't think much about how those things would look if Pumkin were a human, so I didn't really look at many references to make her design more realistic. I just took her Troll design and shot a humanizing beam at her. And that's it. So I apologize if those parts of her are weird. I'll see if I can tweak them a bit the next time I practice my poses.

Another thing I didn't like at all was her face. :/. I mean, it's better in this take than the first time I did the face, but I'm still not crazy about it. Another thing I need to improve when adapting. I mainly think it was difficult because of her nose. A Troll's nose isn't the same as a human's, and that changes the game a lot.

However, what I did like about Pumkin was her body, which was what I focused on the most while drawing. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠). It's not very noticeable because of the overalls, but I made a version of her without them. I mean, with underwear.

So, a quick warning for those who are sensitive to such things: below you'll see a drawing of Pumkin in her underwear. I personally don't find it "suggestive" enough to classify it as risqué or adult content, but I wanted to leave this note just in case. Also, as a reminder, Pumkin is canonically of legal age (between 19 and 23 years old), so it's okay for me to draw her without much clothing.

But if the idea of seeing Pumkin in underwear still bothers you, then imagine that what she's wearing isn't underwear at all, but a swimsuit. I think the whole thing can easily pass as one with a little imagination.

Ready? Because here she is.

(If you don't like it, just note that I warned you, so please don't come complaining)

As I said, Pumkin's body is what I enjoyed drawing the most. ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧. Mainly because I really like making robust bodies, and Pumkin is that in a way. Of course, she was supposed to be a bit more robust (?), but my friend helped me correct some mistakes in the pose and, well, he recommended making her stomach a bit longer. I took him at his word to make the body look more natural, but while I don't regret the final result, I still feel like this design was missing something.

I guess I'll see if I can improve it in my next posing practice (and skin coloring. The skin was a bit hard to decide. I didn't know whether to make it dark or light, so I left it kind of tan... I think).

Oh, and the scars✨. I think they're the best part about Pumkin. In fact, all of her human version's scars are adaptations of his Troll version, so yes: that seam on her side is also on her Troll version. It's just that, since I always draw Pumkin in her overalls, you can't really see it. Same with his leg scars. Pumkin has a lot of scars on her legs. She got them as a teenager, which is why Branch insisted she start wearing longer pants. XD

But anyway, that would be all. (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠). I hope you liked Human Pumkin. And if you didn't like it, I'll try to improve the design another time, because I definitely see many points that need fixing.

Thanks for reading!

[kakusu-shipping]

I realized a while ago my most recent full color reference for my Assassination Classroom S/I is like 3 years old, so I figured I'd finally redraw that (for mutual in AssClass reasons)

Along with update some story stuff, for fun fun. Under the cut cause I cannot stop Yapping

He's a boy genius, having graduated high school at age 15, and earning his Doctorate by 18, he went straight into work with a government owned biology lab studying an alien virus

After the events on Okinawa (and with the pressure of few other not-so-minor injuries that had happened during training), both Koro-Sensei and Karasuma agreed Class 3-E should have a Doctor on the mountain.

Emile was chosen and flown oversees from America due to his advanced knowledge of anti-matter creatures like Koro-Sensei, and the progress he'd made studying the Tentacle Virus. He learned just enough Japanese to get by listening to audio books on the flight over.

Immediately Emile is Fascinated with Koro-Sensei, the Tentacle Cells fully merged with an artificially enhanced host. Between bandaging up the students after training he fills a notebook with questions for Koro-Sensei, about his anatomy, his organs, his reflexes, his abilities, just his day to day life, Everything he can think of to ask and then some.

Then, with no hesitation, he presents the notebook to Koro-Sensei and asks if he'd fill it out. Koro-Sensei, finding the forwardness and desire to learn irresistible, agrees, on the condition he can leave a few questions blank (for his own comfort) and that Emile not show the notebook to anyone else, which Emile agrees to.

The next day when Emile gets his Koro-Sensei questionnaire back, he finds the Octopus had answered nearly every question... In Kanji. Which Emile can't read. Not one to leave a learning mind alone, Koro-Sensei offers to tutor Emile in Japanese so that he can better translate the notebook himself. This leads to the two of them spending every day after school in the teacher's lounge until the sun goes down.

Emile is also very close to Irina, they read a lot of the same books and Emile tends to spoil Irina's more bratty and whiny tendencies, which is attention she desperately needs. Emile can speak Russian rather well and Irina is fluent in English so the two commonly have conversations in anything other than Japanese, to the dismay of Karasuma who only knows enough of either language to ask if the other person speaks Japanese.

Despite how he looks, Emile is very strong, to an absurd degree. It's mostly from spending so much time in labs, moving heavy equipment around. He is also Incredibly Clumsy and will trip and fall if not paying 100% attention to his steps. He has the worst luck with any kitchen appliance, he demonstrated this immediately when Karasuma asked him to start the coffee on his first day, which promptly burst into flames.

A brief little look into his Future, after the Assassination of Koro-Sensei, Emile quits his job with the Government and focuses on his love of language and stories, writing his own books for a time before eventually going back to work as a school nurse at Paradise High School after Irina tells him Nagisa was going to end up teaching there.

[nightfang22]

Patrick's Princess Chapter Three

A/N:Thank you so so much to everyone who's been enjoying this little series of mine!I will admit it's a bit self indulgent.I wanted to write something for the more uncommon age regressors I've met.I am well aware that not everyone age regresses and not everyone understands it so I understand if this fic is not for you.That is absolutely fine!While there will be sexual content in this series at some point in time it will absolutely NOT be during a regressed period for the reader character as I'm not comfortable with that kind of thing at all.Also in reference to the specific autistic behaviors I've written for this reader,they are based upon my own personal autistic experiences so it's good to keep in mind that while not all autistic people experience these traits,I do and there are plenty of others who do.They are completely valid and if you don't like this sort of thing just scroll away!Thank you for reading this note and I hope you continue to enjoy the series even though it's been on a serious hiatus for a good long while!Enjoy!

Warnings:Patrick is a warning on his own,fire,autistic meltdowns,slight atypical stockholm syndrome

Pairing:Patrick Hockstetter x autistic!little!Reader

Word Count:1.1k

 I could smell the soft scent of mint and Jolt Cola on his breath as it fanned across my cheek. His hand brushed through my (h/l)(h/c) hair as the other pulled me closer to him by my waist. "All mine~", he whispered into my hair as he inhaled my scent. I felt this funny bubbly feeling in the pit of my stomach and I felt shocks go through my spine when he shifted me in his lap. We lay up against a tree as the sun set. We had spent the entire day at that little tree in the woods and I had never felt so safe in my life. Even though my brother was most certainly going to be pissed that I ditched and I was probably going to be grounded for the rest of eternity, at that moment I didn't particularly care. I had come back out of my littlespace a good while ago but I could find myself able to leave his arms. I was curled up, straddling Patrick's lap as he held me there pulling me closer every so often as though we could get any more humanly close. I could feel the rough denim of his jeans on my thighs and the soft cotton of his t-shirt in my fingertips as I clutch it for dear life. Patrick had previously taken off his flannel and wrapped it around me, muttering something about my outfit 'drawing too much attention'. I was too deeply engrossed in this bubbly feeling to understand or analyze so I just let him. I liked the feeling of the heavy flannel fabric on my shoulders and the musky smell of his cologne too much to oppose. I simply curled closer into him, resting my head between his shoulder and his jawline. I mindlessly kissed his neck as I ran a hand through his hair. It was a tad greasy but otherwise very soft and smelled of dandruff shampoo. I mindlessly lay kisses across his neck and jawline from where my head rested on his shoulder. I felt his fingertips dig into my skin a little then as he entangled his hand in my hair and gave it a small tug. Not too rough, just enough to grab my attention and make me look at him. His eyes were an electrifying pale blue. Like someone tried to paint the color but had no true concept of what it was really supposed to look like so it just came out to a very silvery periwinkle. "What do you think you're doin', doll?" His words finally drew my line of sight away from his eyes and to his lips instead. They were curved in this beautifully mischievous grin. Almost like a predatory raptor looking at its next meal. The next tug that came on my hair was much more harsh, forcing my line of sight back to his eyes. This time, however, I seemed to have sobered from this intoxicating feeling and come back to earth. Wherever I was before, I'm not quite sure now. I looked around at my surroundings and glanced at my watch. I jumped up out of Patrick's lap and made a beeline for my bike. It's almost 7! (B/n) is going to kill me! I searched my pockets and my bag over and over again, hoping I hadn't lost my keys. I spin around on my heels when I hear keys jingling behind me only to see Patrick shaking them in his hand with his other in his back pocket. "Thought you were gonna get away that easy, princess? You should know better," he paused coming right up in my ear, "than to run away from Daddy." There was this gravel to his voice on the last word. Almost animal like.

I bit down on my bottom lip,feeling anxiety control my gut now.I was in a new place with absolute no idea where I was or how to get home from here. I know I really should've been panicking much more than I was,screaming for help,something.Anything.But I just couldn't find it in myself to want to leave.In my mind I knew that there would be consequences to all of this later.But that's just when they'd come.Later.And right now,all I wanted was to be right where I was.Somewhere in the middle of an unfamiliar forest with Patrick.I liked the way he made me feel and I loved the way he talked to me.Like I was the best thing he'd ever seen but also like I didn't have a brain at the same time.I wasn't even really sure how that was possible but he pulled it off so well that I couldn't find it in myself to care really.I looked up at him with a shy look on my face,my cheeks tinged a soft pink.I nodded,my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes,Sir.I'm sorry."

The smirk on his face was downright sinful as his eyes roved up and down my frame,drinking me in with his eyes.He placed his finger under my chin and tilted my head up to look up at him.I had never really realized just how much taller he was than me until now.And fuck was he tall.I kept my eyes focused on the spot between his.I couldn't bear making complete eye contact with him right now.Not with as overwhelmed as I was.The smirk on his face slowly turned into a cheshire grin.Malicious and intriguing at the same time.

"You're good at taking orders.I like that."

An odd feeling swelled in my chest.Pride,maybe?Whatever it was,I liked it.A lot.I felt a small smile grace my features as I nodded. "Only for the right people." My voice was a ghost of a whisper.His hand traveled quickly from my chin to my throat,squeezing it.Almost like a warning. "Only for me,got it?" My eyes were wide.They felt like they were going to pop out of my skull but I couldn't find it in myself to disagree with him.There was something about him that just made me want to listen,to obey.I nodded but he squeezed harder. "Yes what?" I took a shallow breath as I looked up at him. "Yes,Sir." MY voice was shaky and strangled with his hand around my neck but I was strangely okay with it. He released my throat and I took a gasping breath in,finding that I missed the pressure of his hands.My skin felt itchy and crawly without it.In that moment I had decided,against my better judgement maybe but I would do anything to keep Patrick's hands on me.