#my oc evan

[silvernightabyss]

“Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” - Chapter 1

Yandere Hero x gn!Reader

Isekai, who among us hasn't dreamed of it? Well, get it signed. Try not to throw yourself into the arms of the protagonist as soon as you see him. Remember, you may know everything about him, but he's seeing you for the first time. The thoughts of the protagonist come as a gift.

How many references do you want? Yes.

word count: 2.9k Prologue/Chapter 1

It's been two weeks since you've been in the fantasy world of the novel. Adapting has been difficult, even though you've inherited fragmentary memories of the original owner of the body. The unfamiliar people, surroundings, etiquette, and architecture were very disconcerting. To your shame, you spent your first night sobbing quietly in your room in the temple. The only thing you were probably lucky about was that you weren't a member of the church, just a hired sewist. Given the fact that the high priest was the one who raped Evan, you had no desire to see the man, whose name was Donavan. Make sure you memorize that shithead's name and if you ever summon a demon, sell his soul.

In fact, you hadn't seen him or Evan since you'd been in this world. And while the first pleased you, the second disappointed you. As you learned by asking the servants, Evan and his team were on a quest to destroy one of the demon lords living in a poisonous swamp. This happened at the beginning of the first volume, as you may recall. And what the author thought to add the location of the poison swamp, in all games it was always the most annoying part. Probably because the author was an insufferable evil bastard who drew inspiration from the most annoying things created by human hands. A sudden wave of anger almost ripped the thin fabric in your hands in half. Then you stroked it quickly, as if to comfort it, removing the creases that had formed.

Poor Evan was going to get poisoned by some nasty animal and come back to the temple with a fever for a week. Sad, of course, but nothing that with your level of power you could change. The day after the isekai, you tried a little magic. Find some chakra, mana core, nen or something. But no. All you got was to feel like an idiot for half an hour, huffing and puffing like a pissed-off hedgehog. No transmigrator buffs. No annoying system or divine companion. Nothing. That made you completely powerless to help Evan. It was frustrating, angry, and made you want to bang your head against the wall. Your modern upbringing couldn't allow you to ignore someone else's misfortune. If you worked in the kitchen, you would surely spit in the soups and drinks that are made especially for the High Priest. Unfortunately, those are the only petty thoughts of revenge you could afford.

Part of you just wanted to leave, good thing sewing skills were embedded in your subcortex, and you could find work somewhere else, not in a place where you knew one hero suffered every day. You wince. Thinking about it like that made you feel bad about yourself. It was vile to think of leaving. As the only person with knowledge of the situation, you had to stay and try to help in any way you could. Even if your attempts would be fruitless in the end.

You spent the next two hours diligently embroidering new robes and fixing old ones where the fabric was too worn. Unpleasant thoughts of varying degrees of intrusiveness kept popping into your head, but you studiously ignored them. Their content was something like “To be or not to be”, only your option was “To stay or not to stay”.

After you finished your work, you picked up a pile of robes and went to turn them in to the storekeeper. The temple was beautiful, even to your unassuming eye. The entire continent worshiped the Creator who made the world and the gods they created to help look after the people. In fact, you remembered from the book that the mythology of Evan's world was very interesting. Incredibly written and detailed lore describing events from ancient times to the present day. Some of the knowledge you had already forgotten, but for example you remembered that the Irin continent, where the main story took place, was named after the god's favorite angel.

The central temple of the capital was dedicated to the Creator. Numerous frescoes on the ceiling depicted the creation of the world and the races that inhabited it. For the first week, you walked with your head up, and more than once you were on the verge of falling. The tall, graceful steles also drew attention to the care with which the flowers and leaves were molded, as if they were real and the spell had just turned them to stone a moment ago. The garden wasn't to be forgotten, you'd only been there once, but it was already completely engraved in your heart. Score one for staying. Overall to summarize the temple was beautiful, the priests friendly. So why the hell is this place of paradise run by this goddamn pervert! The Creator's eyes are blown out of their heads to let a man like that in charge of their temple? Unbearable.

Your boots thudded loudly and angrily on the marble floor, and you continued on your way. The servants and priests you encountered preferred to avoid you in a wide arc, sensing in their gut the dark and heavy aura you gave off. With the power you put into opening the door, you could shred a mountain to pieces with a single blow. Yeah, like that bald guy, that's how powerful you were at that moment. The storekeeper didn't even lift his head from the paper he was looking at. Inwardly, you marveled a little at his restraint; you yourself would have jumped on the spot if you had been rushed in with such a bang. More calmly you approached the not-young man whose most prominent feature was his giant-hooked nose.

“I brought the robes, where should I put them?” Your voice rumbles through the room.

The man nodded vaguely toward a neighboring room filled with baskets full of robes. The servants had to wash and dry the robes before handing them back to the priests. Why the freshly sewn robes had to be washed was a big question, but not of your mind. You were about to leave when you were stopped by the storekeeper.

“Go to the infirmary and get the medicine for the hero. His chambers are in the east wing of the temple on the third floor.”

During your entire stay in the room, the storekeeper didn't even look at you, and after he gave you the order, he started acting as if you weren't even here. Well, the main thing is that he didn't yell. You shrugged your shoulders and left the room.

The stone-face test was successfully passed, the die rolled on a twenty! In fact, your heart was racing, and your palms were unpleasantly sweaty. Did all this mean you would be able to see Evan? You didn't even know he'd returned. With an effort of will, you suppressed the joyful scream that burst from your mouth. You're going to see the protagonist of this damn novel. Almost dancing, you hurried toward the infirmary.

The nurse, whose name was Ellen, gave you your medication as soon as she heard that you had come from the storekeeper. The girl explained that because of the upcoming festival dedicated to the Creator, all the servants were busy preparing for the sacred rituals. Mentally, you tsked. That no servant could spare time for the precious hero of the Church? Nonsense, of course, but nonsense that plays right into your hands. Having memorized what to give and in what dosage, you headed for the eastern wing.

The corridors became more and more empty with every turn, as if you were entering a forbidden zone. The atmosphere was oppressive and growing colder with each step. A creak sounded very close to you, made you jump on the spot and freeze. It was scary to turn around. You didn't want to see the ghost behind you. On bending legs, you turned around and ….Mmm No, that's just your overactive imagination working for the bread. There was nothing behind you. Nothing in the front, either. Cussing under your breath, you continued walking. Isekai had definitely taken a toll on your nerves. Shame they hadn't invented valerian here yet.

The doors to Evan's chambers were carved, decorated with ornaments of flowers. You knocked hesitantly, and when there was no answer, you knocked again, but louder. Maybe he was asleep? What was to be done? The nurse had said the medication had to be timed to avoid making him feel worse. The doorknob in your hand felt like a ticket to heaven or hell. Praying in your mind to who you didn't know, you pushed it down. With a quiet click, the door opened. Like a mouse about to steal cheese, you quietly slipped through the gap and closed the door behind you. You hoped Evan wasn't a cat that would eat you for entering without permission.

The main hero's chambers were green, very green, not because the walls and furniture were that color, but because of the dozens or even hundreds of pots with various plants. As a half-elf, Evan had the ability to understand and talk to plants. For a long time in the novel, they were his only friends, listening to all his sorrows. Sighing sadly, you headed for the door behind, which was presumably the bedroom.

Evan lay on the bed, resting peacefully, deep in sleep. The blanket lay in a bunched pile at the half elf's feet. His complexion was very pale with blue veins clearly visible, there were deep bruises under his eyes, and his breathing was intermittent and heavy. Despite this, he was still more handsome than the sleeping beauty herself. If you thought the comparison was inappropriate, just never mind. On tiptoe, you moved closer and leaned over the sleeping hero. Handsome. You especially liked the way his leafy green hair curled around his pointy ears. You wanted to catch one strand between your fingers and then watch it curl back. You weren't weird. Not at all.

You put the tray of medicine on the bedside table with a little more clatter than you'd like, but Evan didn't wake up, thankfully. The half elf's forehead was scalding hot, and you jerked your hand away quickly. Looking around, you spotted a basin of water on the other side of the room and quickly soaked the rag you'd grabbed from the tray before placing it on Evan's forehead. That's better. Satisfied, you smiled to yourself.

The question of how to medicate the unconscious hero was still open. You frankly didn't want to wake him up. You remembered from the book that Evan's condition was extremely serious, and he didn't come to his senses at all. Rest is the best medicine. It's better if you quietly do your business and leave, and he won't even know you're in his chambers. Shit, that sounded like some kind of thief.

Pass the cure with a kiss? You shook your head frantically as soon as the thought crossed your mind. God, you'd read too many romance novels. Conscience and morality would never allow you to violate Evan's personal boundaries like that, considering how they'd already been violated by the high priest. Besides, it would be despicable to do that to any person.

But then what were you supposed to do? You'd just have to pour the drugs into Evan's mouth and hope he didn't choke. That's about what you did, luckily without becoming a hero killer. Now comes the most difficult and embarrassing part. Ellen gave you an ointment to rub into the half elf's chest. The medical reasons behind this you almost completely missed, and you only had to take on faith the necessity of this action. Evan wouldn't like it if someone he didn't know undressed him and started performing medical procedures on him. Right? So something had to be done about it.

One of the scraps of fabric Ellen put on the tray caught your eye. It's perfect. You'll pretend to be a butler, covering your eyes with a strip of fabric so as not to embarrass your mistress. Master. You mean Evan. Quickly and tightly tying the band, you found yourself in darkness. With suddenly trembling hands you fumbled for the collar of the half elf's shirt and from it, you easily reached the buttons. Normally you would have easily done it in less than a minute, but now deprived of sight and incredibly embarrassed; each of your actions was stretched to the point of impossibility. After an eternity according to your internal clock, you finally managed this undeniably difficult task.

So it was time for the ointment, which was as green as you remembered and smelled like bumps or something else freshly herbal. Incredibly embarrassed by your own actions, you rubbed the ointment in as fast as you could without lingering on any part of Evan's skin. What's a stupid trail? A relieved exhale escaped you when this torture finally stopped. Ellen had said the ointment should absorb very quickly, literally in less than a minute, and in your head you drummed your fingers on your thigh, ticking off the seconds. When the time was up, you hoped for it towards the end you began to speed up the count, with all care you covered Evan with the blanket. The nurse had said the fever would go down very quickly, which meant the half elf could get cold.

And so it was done! Now you could leave with a clear conscience. You pulled the bandage off your eyes, blinked in the light, and hurriedly picked up the tray, leaving the room. Before you passed through the doorway, you took one last look at Evan, still sleeping peacefully. Handsome even when he's sick. Nodding affirmatively at that thought, you headed back to the infirmary to return the medication to the nurse.

***

Evan woke up when someone started undoing the buttons of his sleeping shirt. His first thought was that it was Donavan, so the only thing he could do was lie there and not fight back. Was he sick of his powerlessness? So sick that he wanted to open his chest with his hands and rip out his damn heart, which sometimes allowed itself to hope for the best. The half elf left his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the high priest's ugly face, twisted with desire. He could still visualize it all too well, anyway. A convulsion shot through his arm and he clawed his fingers into the sheets, his nails almost tearing the fabric.

Halfway through the unbuttoning, Evan suddenly realized that the fingers that sometimes grazed his skin were different from Donovan's skinny, knotted fingers, the pads of which were covered with calluses. In addition, a strange chill spread from his forehead down his body. Was it the damp cloth? It was only because of the two factors above that he actually opened his eyes and saw you. The snort that almost came out of his mouth, he held back with an incredible effort of will. A blindfold? It was ridiculous, even more ridiculous than the mix of slime deer and owl he'd met in the swamp. Ridiculous but oddly cute. The mere thought that he might be uncomfortable being stared at half-naked had never occurred to anyone. With already great interest and friendliness, he began to consider your appearance.

When you reached for the green jar, he recognized it as an antipyretic. A spark of realization lit him up, and Evan bit his lip. He was ready for the feeling of a thousand little insects crawling under his skin, but your touch didn't disgust him. Evan blinked perplexedly when he realized this. Short and medically detached, your touch was devoid of any lust. Noticing your fingers trembling, Evan concluded that at the very least you were awkward. Later his guess was confirmed by your tapping on your thigh, too uneven and often out of rhythm to be a sign of boredom or impatience. The blanket you covered him with forced him to smile slightly. A display of simple human caring that he had always been deprived of. The thought made him feel unpleasantly empty inside.

When your fingers reached for the bandage, Evan closed his eyes as quickly as possible, not even knowing why. He didn't have an answer to that question. Listening to the quiet rustling of the fabric of your clothes and the tinkling of the medicine on the tray made his heart feel lighter for some reason. It was as if you were not a randomly sent servant, but someone close to him who genuinely cared about him.

The creak of the door alerted him to your departure, but with his keen hearing, he could still hear your footsteps outside his chambers. As soon as they were gone, Evan sat up on the bed, causing the cloth on his forehead to fall down. Silently, he twirled it in his hands. His head felt strangely empty. Perhaps the only question that bothered him now was; who are you? Meeting you had irrevocably changed something in him, as if he had been a broken clock just now starting to run.

Evan rolled back over, sinking into the soft mattress, and returned the cloth to his forehead. The next time you two meet, once he's recovered enough to walk, he'll be sure to ask your name. With that thought, his exhausted mind took to its realm of Morpheus.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Husband + Monster Reader

[18+, Talk of Nsfw but no outright smut, Spit Kink, Oral, Light Body Horror, Mentions of past Cannibalism, Reader is implied to be taller than Yan]

There are three things your husband would never ask for. Divorce. A homemade birthday cake. And, lastly, anything that would jeopardize his or your health. The rearmost point had its grey areas what with him sacrificing pieces of himself to accommodate your limited palate.

For him to request something from you loosely implies his assurance of its safety for you both-

"I've been thinking lately... It's actually been on my mind since the first time we did... things with each other."

Your husband bites at his lower lip, the thick panels of his glasses failing to hide his shame at even suggesting his mind's tempations to you.

"If it's not too trouble... Would it be out of the realm of possibility for you to... spit on it tonight?"

"Evan-"

Your husband is quick to cut you off, physically shrinking as he interrupts you. Your voice is the last he'd ever want to silence, but he needed to get through to you before the obvious concerns did.

"Hun, I know you're worried. No telling where I'd be now if I didn't have you to keep me safe. And that care you have for me is exactly why I want this."

He couldn't say he needed it. This had to be your choice above anything. Telling you the truth would only persuade you one way or another, and it'd kill him to be that selfish.

"I want you, Honey. All of you." A rising hand encourages you to accommodate your husband's smaller stature, leaning forward as he strokes a thumb over the barely visible line across your neck - the tongue that bleeds everything it touches of its essence hiding just beyond that slit.

Your throat bulges as it stirs, signifying your unease. Evan swiftly averts his eyes, clutching his this thighs together.

"If..." He chokes out, thoughts dwelling on that dense, inciting saliva of yours dripping off his most imitate areas. "If I wear a condom, it should be okay- It's just like when I used to wear gloves while I helped you brush your teeth."

He has a point- Far as either of you are aware, your saliva can only break down organic materials. That doesn't put him in the clear yet.

"What if it tears?"

"If I feel anything out of the ordinary I'll tell you immediately, and we stop to cuddle and watch tv."

"And how much spit do you want from me?"

Evan feigns a coughing fit. He was all for indulging in his twisted fantasies if you were on board with him, but saying them aloud is where things became tricky. "I was thinking you could to lay it on as thick as you can. Make sure I can feel the warmth and the... wetness through the protection. It'd be great if you could use your t-tongue a little too. I've always dreamt of what it'd feel like to have it wrapped around me."

"....You are a perverted man, Evan."

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he utters a small. "I know, but it's why you love me, right?"

Hope beaming from his lovestruck eyes, you squeeze his shoulder as you pass by. "I'll be upstairs when you're ready."

[bigfootsmom]

please tell him he did a good job. just look at his face….tell him he gets a good grade in making a baby. it took him nine months he’s very proud.

my commission info

my kofi

[maddexfox]

[skyblueartt]

YAY little lore about me, my parents own a pizza restaurant IRL that I work at when I’m home from college :) and I fuckin love drawing on the whiteboard up front- back in the summer I drew something featuring the Afton fam, and my coworker (who loves Fnaf) thought it would be funny if I kept up that running joke and drew them in a holiday-themed situation for Christmas eve. Me when I bring my random long-running fixation into the workplace 🕺🕺

[plutoloulou]

I said I'd do it... (my art blog: @pluviopixels )

[star-spangled-starboyyy]

*there’s a voicemail from Wyatt*

“Heyy Starboy, um, you must be busy with Guardians stuff so I’ll call another time. Okay, love you bye.”

@they-call-me-ricochet

Evan doesn't even see the voicemail for two days, but then tries to call Wyatt back

[heyitsphoenixx]

happy halloween !!! have some of my creepy/eerie art bc I do love drawing in that vibe.

check out more of my art (and my kofi and commission post and more) here!

[zorangezest]

What's the neurotypical way to say your artstyle tastes merengue cookies-

HEY. HEY. HEY. HEY.

OH MY BLUCKING GOD?

[beausprouts]

Compilation of the refs for my silly au 🫶🫶🫶

The Afton family making me scream and cry and throw up for real.

[kandyarts]

Some fun little doodles I never did anything with

[silvernightabyss]

“Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” - Prologue

Yandere Elf Hero x Reader

What author's manual says the protagonist is the happiest human or non-human in the world? That's ridiculous. It must be the most miserable creature who suffers all the time. However, if you doubt my unquestionably true statement, you can read the text below. Of course, that's just the beginning. But hey, everything has a beginning. And that includes you, little human creature. In the free giveaway for the isekai, please go here.

предупреждения/теги: упоминания об изнасиловании (не читатель), gn!Reader

Количество слов: 1,6 тыс.

Prologue/Chapter 1

“Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” That's the title of a series of novels you've been reading for the past two weeks. True to the title, the protagonist's life was anything but happy. It was dark romantic fantasy with detailed descriptions of rape, blood and guts. So vilely written you'd never dare read it yourself. Unfortunately, your best friend could make the most pitiful puppy dog eyes, and you had no choice but to keep reading. In fact, you were ready to swear to god that the author was not all right in the head. You had to be able to mock your own creation like that.

Evan, the protagonist name, was taken from his parents as a baby and raised by the church, because of a prophecy that said that only he could defeat the Demon King. Since childhood, he was subjected to grueling training, tirelessly developing his magic. Often his teachers brought him to such exhaustion that he passed out on the training ground. He had no close friends, as there were no other children in the temple, and the adult priests kept telling him that the only goal in his life was to kill the Demon King. As you can imagine, it wasn't exactly conducive to forming close bonds.

And so he grew up in the capital's temple, but fate author was truly a cruel thing. From the moment Evan turned fourteen, the head priest began giving him inappropriate signs of attention; overly long touches, lustful smiles, adjusting his clothes even when it wasn't necessary. Your heart burned with the blazing fire of righteous anger as you read these scenes. Often while reading, you would stop and start hitting your pillow, imagining the priest in it place. The worst thing happened the day Evan turned sixteen. That scum in the robe molested the poor half-elf. You screamed and swore with every profanity you knew, but Evan was there and not real, and you were here and could not affect anything. After that scene, you left the book dusting on your bedside table for days. It was too hard, but the desire to know what would happen to Evan next eventually overcame you. With all your heart, you wanted to believe that after all the misfortunes, the main hero would find his happy ending.

And oh boy, there was a little hint of that at the end of the first volume. Evan, began to develop a relationship with the princess. She seemed kind and sweet, genuinely caring for the hapless half-elf. So it was with great anticipation in your heart that you bought the second volume and spent all your free weekends reading it. Their relationship developed slowly but so tasty. You wanted to believe in the feelings that blossomed between them. You were on a tear the moment Evan told the princess about what the head priest was doing to him. She was so understanding and immediately began to devise a plan to break the half elf out of the church's grip. Things were heating up as the story progressed, but it was obvious that a good ending was at hand. Just grab it by the hand.

Evan got his freedom, and all that was left was to kill the Demon King. The battle was hard fought and thrillingly written. With difficulty and loss, the Demon King was killed. It would seem that this is it, but… Loud thunderclap. Evan dies from wounds received in the battle. As soon as you read those lines, you threw the book at the wall with all your might. And what was the character development, the slow carbing out of bad circumstances into good ones. The series taught you not to give up. And what happens in the end! Evan dies without ever marrying the princess or finding his happy ending. That's bullshit. You spent hours that day berating the author with a friend, wanting to vent your frustration.

Unsatisfied with this ending, you went on the internet to look for fanfics. You wanted to read some fluff about the half-elf you were so attached to. Was it any wonder that the most popular pairing was Demon King/Evan? No. Fanfics certainly helped a little from your heartbreak, but the ending of the original novel remained the same. The story hit your heart hard. Its unfair ending, and there was no other way to call it that, made you want to find out the author's home address and visit them late at night. You were sure you could be persuasive enough for the author to rewrite the ending. Unfortunately, your common sense still existed and influenced you. The idea had to be abandoned with a heavy heart.

After engaging in a couple of tumblr and reddit wars about Evan's character and devouring all the content on the series in a matter of weeks, a feeling of emptiness came into your life. The greedy phase of absorbing all available information has ended for lack of it. It wasn't the first time you'd dived headfirst into fandom, but it was the first time coming out was so painful. Every day you desperately refreshed your newsfeed, hoping for another piece of content, but it was in short supply.

Gradually you began to let go, the difficulties of everyday life didn't leave you much time for social media, and the next fandom you entered made you completely forget about your recent favorite blorbo. Only your favorite art with Evan on the lock screen evoked a slight nostalgic feeling mixed with a rush of fondness. Six months later and it was replaced.

But one fine or terrible day. You will be able to decide which one it was only at the end of the story. Don't jump to conclusions halfway through.

So on Friday, nothing was going to go wrong. Just a normal day, filling you with anticipation for the weekend. Perhaps you had a few drinks with friends and on your way home you decided to cross the road in the wrong way.

Now, you're probably expecting me to write that you got hit by a truck and were reborn or isekai'd. But no, you weren't!

You quietly found yourself on the other side of the street in front of your house, and you didn't have to walk a whole street to the crosswalk.

Wonderful. Is there a crazy maniac waiting for you in the elevator? No. Shame. Well, let me continue with a retelling of the events that will draw you into the biggest adventure of your life.

Tiredly, you entered your apartment and began to look for your slippers. Why you did it in total darkness, instead of just turning on the light in the corridor, God only knew. Finally, having coped with the difficult task and having taken off your outer clothes, you went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Divine cool liquid washed your parched throat and you stopped dying of thirst.

I'm proud to put a star sticker on your forehead. Taking care of yourself is important, don't forget that. Uh-oh. I got distracted. Where's my script?

The night sky was beautiful, thick and dark, like a can of ink accidentally swiped onto paper by someone's clumsy hand. The stars illuminated the earth with small lanterns, watching from the heavens for the only two intelligent beings in the world. They were very interested in what the young god and the angel were doing.

Irin, with infinite adoration in his eyes, approached you timidly holding out the handmade cupcake. Soft wings more airy than the clouds themselves fluttered behind his back. Could he really afford to hope that a god as perfect as you would accept his gift?

Ugh. Ugh. Wrong story, forget it. It's not even finished yet, don't be fooled.

Your head began to ache, the pressure pressing on your temples, and you headed for the bedroom with a spinning head. For some reason, the bookcase, or rather the Evan series of books, caught your eye. With a sudden glare, you pulled out one of the book and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall.

I know the bed is for wimps. I do it a lot myself, but it's so much nicer to cry on the floor. It's cold and it sets the mood. I'm sorry. I've been distracted a lot. I promise you won't read about me again until the end.

Your fingers gently stroked Evan's face on the cover. It showed him very happy with a bright smile on his face and flowers in his hands. Unfair. Terribly unfair that such a good main character ended so tragically. Tears rolled down your cheeks in large drops coming off your chin. One of them fell directly onto Evan's face, and you hastily wiped it away with your thumb. How you wished you had the chance to change his fate. To save him from an ignominious death when he was so close to his true freedom and happiness. You clutched the book tightly to your chest. The minutes spent in grief went by unnoticed and passed smoothly into sleep. It was the last night you spent in your world. You woke up in a completely unfamiliar environment, you had no idea where you were. But that's a story for another chapter.

And that's how you isekai'd in the novel, “Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” As its author, I wish you strong nerves, don't go gray before your time!

P.S. You're on your own from here. I'm on vacation in Hawaii. Be gentle with Evan, because I'm the only one who has the right to make fun of him. Kiss.

The world's evilest kindest author.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[mobwhim]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

[evie2001]

[skyblueartt]

Little warmup sketch from yesterday lol! inspired by this awesome art - thought it was so funny that Mike would be the type of teenager to wear shorts in the winter (idk what winter is like in Southern Utah but. Shhhh) 😭

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

another snippet of the barbecue fic (aka another snippet of buck being horny for his boyfriend lmao I swear this is a wholesome fluffy family fic haha), this is my priority now, I wanna finish it soon so send all the motivation haha <3

prev snippet

___

“Behave.” He scolds with no heat behind it.

“Mhm, yessir.” Buck purrs, his lips moving across Tommy’s bare shoulder. 

“Fuck.” Tommy breathes out and completely stills, and Buck can’t really see his face but he knows his boyfriend closed his eyes and is trying to calm down – which can’t be easy with Buck still plastered against his back. “This food is gonna burn if you keep this up. And we have guests to feed.” He adds, and as if to make a point, he flips a slightly overdone burger, Buck hindering his movements just a little bit.

Before he can respond, he hears another voice get through the chatter and music and reach his ears.

“Buck!” Chimney calls, and Buck looks over his shoulder to find everyone’s eyes on him, amused expressions on their faces. “Don’t distract our cook, we’re starving!”

“I’m just scolding him for taking his shirt off.” Buck says easily, then adds a little louder, to Tommy but making sure everyone hears, “Babe, you’re gonna burn yourself, you’re a firefighter, you should know better.” He shakes his head, and Tommy looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re gonna pretend like you don’t approve?”

“Oh, I so don’t, Tommy, at all.” Buck tries to keep a straight face, but a chuckle bubbles out of him anyway. “You’re such a distraction, this is dangerous for everyone here.”

“I think you’re the only one with that problem, Buckaroo.” Hen laughs, and only then Buck remembers everyone’s still paying attention to them. It’s so easy to get lost in Tommy, to feel like it’s just them, even in a crowd of people. So distracting. It’s a hazard, really. He should keep Tommy away from everyone, preferably locked in the bedroom with him, for everyone’s safety.

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @bibuckkinard @spotsandsocks @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @bidisasterevankinard @hippolotamus @girlwonder-writes @perfectlysunny02 @dadbodbuck @kinkleydiaz @diazsdimples @aringofsalt