#okay okay so i compromised with this lmao

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[riddlerosehearts]

thinking about floyd and riddle spending their first halloween as a couple together... i think floyd absolutely loves how varied and lively all of the different halloween traditions he's learned about since coming to live on land are, and he wants to try out as many of them as he can each year. so when riddle tells him that his mother always made him stay in his room studying on halloween, and that the only halloween activities he's ever done were those that NRC students were required to participate in, floyd decides that the two of them are just going to have to spend the day doing everything they possibly can. riddle tries to say he's far too busy for such things, but floyd will not let it go and honestly riddle is only half-heartedly protesting anyway because he secretly did always dream of doing the things that other kids got to do on halloween, and maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal to take one day off and spend time with his boyfriend.

so, riddle never got to make jack-o-lanterns? floyd decides to "borrow" about half a dozen of the pumpkins jade and azul had bought for mostro lounge and takes them to riddle's dorm room. riddle is terrible at trying to carve them at first and floyd can't help but laugh at him a little, but since he knows it's not riddle's fault he's never gotten to do this before, he says he'll show him how to do it. unfortunately floyd isn't nearly as good as he thinks he is on account of having lived in the ocean for almost his whole life and now riddle gets to laugh right back at him. they probably both get the hang of it right as they're down to their last two pumpkins.

riddle never got to go trick-or-treating with his childhood friends? floyd texts trey and convinces him to get in touch with chenya as well so that they can all go together. when they approach the first house, in the costumes they had prepared for each of their school's halloween events, riddle starts to get nervous and asks if they aren't all a little too old to be doing this. floyd shoves several huge handfuls of candy from that person's bowl into his and riddle's pumpkin-shaped buckets and tells him it's not like there's any rule that says they can't, and besides, riddle is such a cute little goldfish that he practically looks like a kid in his costume anyway! chenya stifles a laugh while trey has to stop riddle from committing murder that night.

riddle's never gone to a haunted house before? floyd and chenya both think it would be hilarious to make him go to one, so they do. riddle absolutely hates it, but it honestly does make him happy to see everyone else enjoying it--even if floyd and chenya both keep trying to egg him and trey on and get them to go down creepy corridors and check around corners by themselves, and even if floyd keeps running off to different parts of the haunted house and then coming back and hugging or even lifting riddle from behind knowing full well that he'll get freaked out by it.

riddle never got to play the apple bobbing game that's traditional in the queendom of roses? turns out there's a place right by the haunted house where they can go to do it! predictably, floyd is great at it while riddle ends up drenched without getting any apples, but just giving it a try is more fun than riddle expected.

riddle's never gotten to make candy apples before? luckily, trey knows an amazing recipe as well as what combinations of toppings work the best, and he's willing to teach them both! riddle gets very confused at imprecise directions such as being told to use "a few" drops of food coloring on the syrup or to drizzle "a little" white chocolate over it, and keeps asking trey exactly how much he should use. floyd thinks this is adorable. he also thinks it's adorable when riddle tries to scold him for ignoring half of trey's directions and just doing whatever he thinks sounds good.

riddle's never done a horror movie marathon before, or even seen any halloween movies in general? floyd insists that they marathon at least 3 movies together. after the experiences he had at the haunted house, riddle doesn't think he'll enjoy horror movies, but he tries to keep his cool throughout the first one anyway... which does not work out, because he really can't handle jumpscares or excessive gore. during the first movie they watch, floyd (who loves slasher films so much that he laughs and cheers every time the monster gets a kill) is happy to let his goldfishie cuddle up to him and grip onto his arm to keep himself from knocking the popcorn bowl onto the floor, but you know that once it's over riddle is getting teased relentlessly about how scared he was. floyd decides to be nice and put on something tamer for their next two movies, and riddle actually ends up really enjoying coraline and especially beetlejuice.

by the end of the night riddle realizes that they've stayed up way too late at night and a small part of him wants to scold floyd for keeping him up so late, insisting on having him do all of these silly activities and eat all of these terribly unhealthy snacks. another part of him wishes he could scold his mother for keeping him from doing any of these things as a kid, with his friends and the other kids in his hometown, the way you're supposed to do it... and another part of him still is just incredibly happy and grateful to floyd for finally giving him the chance.

[the-kipsabian]

[yumiayumu]

natla is not perfect, not the best if i’m being honest. it’s just okay (better than the movie) and this is me without my puritan glasses on. casts were good, i especially like how dallas nailed zuko’s awkwardness lol, and i appreciate their dedication to do their own stunts. vfx and costumes were great. the writing tho… this is the reason why i stopped watching live actions in general. i’m aware that adapting a book or a cartoon is hard and it doesn’t have to be 100% accurate but if you’re gonna add or remove stuff at least make it make sense and ties the whole story together.

the only reason i want a season 2 is because of my girl TOPH 😤

[volivolition]

Can you find where Volition says that abt Conceptualization irt ur tags on one of the skills bracket posts omg [we suuuck at finding shit w fayde] we've Never seen that before and like. that's so fucking funny FHDJSJDJF

i have this screenshot on lockdown, it makes me so violent about him. WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT. WHAT DOY UO MEA N.

[lord-squiggletits]

The main thing about IDW OP that I'm on my hands and knees begging people to understand is to actually treat him like a fucking character and give him the nuanced understanding that this fandom gives to other characters just fine. Like, I s2g the reason no one even talks about IDW OP is because at the first sign of him making mistakes or having a flawed worldview (you know, like a REAL PERSON and not a cartoon caricature) they instantly bail and go "zomg worst Optimus ever".

Like please for fuck's sake IDW1 is a story steeped in realism and moral grayness can you stop for ONE SECOND and realize that IDW OP being a little bit of an asshole or making big mistakes doesn't instantly make him the worst character ever and maybe take the time to actually read his story? B/c half the shit people say about IDW OP makes it obvious that they've only read MTMTE and LL (badly, might I add) and it annoys the shit out of me

[ashennightingale]

imo good character-establishing things to have for pcs are like

- the usual why are they on this adventure, why are they w this group, etc

- what's one personality trait that drives them to do the stupid but fun thing

- what's one aspect that might make them act in ways contrary to how they do normally (including Not doing the stupid thing if it wouldn't be fun)

that last one is beneficial for the collaborative aspect of ttrpgs: if everyone else wants to do x, & as a player u wanna cooperate but ur pc would be opposed, how can u navigate that? there's still times to dig ur heels in, but often I've found more value in establishing Why or How my character can be convinced to go along w smth anyway

also just. ppl contradict themselves sometimes, & having even a simple sense of that in ur pcs can both make rp richer & assist in collaborating w the other ppl at ur table

[glitter-stained]

Okay but wouldn't it have been funny if Jason came back to life and just straight up told the truth

Like, I understand why that's a terrible idea (we don't want Ra's al ghul wannabe immortality enthusiasts targeting traumatized innocent civilian Jason Todd who has "easy prey" written on his forehead) but still, this is a world in which people have come back to life several times, the mystery of Jason's resurrection is mysterious, but it's not unbelievable, and nothing about it compromises the bats. I can so see it backfire on him too.

Picture this:

Jason: What's the funniest way I can come back to life?

Duke: Tell the truth.

Jason: ??

Duke: Like, leave the compromising bits out obviously, but other than that, be 100% honest. They'll never believe you, and it's gonna drive Bruce crazy. With a little luck, we can get the vein on his forehead to jut out.

*****

Later:

Interviewer: So, why did you fake your death?

Jason, trained spy, theatre kid, shakespeare nerd extraordinaire: *puts on his traumatized young man face*

Jason: *ashened complexion*

Jason : *knee trembles*

Jason: *hand wraps around a rope burn scar around his wrist like reminding himself the rope is not there* (he let himself get kidnapped by BM's men to destroy that base of operations a week ago)

Bruce: Oh no

Jason: I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I did die. I don't - I remember it very well. I went to Ethiopia to find my birth mother in the hopes of learning to know her, but she took advantage of the situation to traffic me to- to a dangerous sociopath. He tortured me for hours, then turned on her, tied us up and left us to die in the explosion. I'm not sure how I came back... I woke up in my coffin, and then, well. I just dug my way up.

Interviewer: But why only come back to the public eye now?

Jason: Before I could make it home, I was taken in by a cult... They found me desoriented in the streets and I don't know, I guess they decided to take advantage. I... Sorry. Sorry, I'm not trying to- I didn't mean to cry. Um, please just-yeah. It's been a couple of difficult years, I guess.

Interviewer: I understand, this must have been very difficult for you. Thank you so much for sharing this with us, and I think I speak for all of Gotham when I say we believe you, support you, and are very relieved and happy you finally came home.

Jason: I'm sorry what?

The crowd: *enthusiastic noises of agreement*

Jason: what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Duke: lmao I can't believe that worked

[dilfkuza]

hello comrade how are you coping with that devastating as hell summit?

great question! im not :)

fr though? im clinging onto the words of others that we've all come to after mulling over this for almost 12 hours now and hoping that RGG is just trying to make us sweat before the full game comes out. i wanna believe so hard that they wouldn't just wrap up Kiryu's story with him being unable to beat cancer but i also have little faith in the team to let Kiryu be okay after everything he's been through so its a mix bag. Yokoyama said that just because he's sick doesn't mean its the end and I'm holding him to that.

emotionally i am wrecked and mentally i am making old man kazumaji fluff to make myself feel better

[504py]

No Compromises

Yandere Canada/Reader – You reunite with an old college friend, though he's nothing like you remember.

⚠️ Yandere content, kidnapping, self-harm, stalking, possible emetophobia (descriptions of gagging and the feeling of illness), no use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader.

IM BACK YAWL 😭😭 just a bit of a filler post and another apology for being away for so long!!! i tried to get this out by halloween but i kept adding more shit LOL

while this is much more aligned with his 2p version, i had no idea if it counts as such since here i portray his 1p and 2p version as the same guy 😭😭 so that's up in the air!

also u may notice the lack of a [oneshot] tag... thats cuz i have a prequel wip for this, but figured i'll just finish and post it if the people desire it LMAO. pls lemme know if y'all do!! anyways so sorry again and i hope u enjoy!!! thanks so much to everyone for sticking around and enjoying what i do 🩵🩵🩵

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The light drag of a cigarette is the first thing you process when you finally come to your senses.

A man stands before you, singular lightbulb leering ominously above a head of overgrown blond hair, the bright light reflecting in his glasses making you unable to see much of his features. His tall, slender figure is highlighted by the stark overhead shadows that are being cast on his baggy clothing. He exhales, smoke billowing and resting heavily in the dusty, stale air.

"Hey." He says, the friendly, casual tone of his voice making you blink faster in the hopes of gaining more lucidity. His tongue pokes at his cheek as he drops the cigarette to the cemented floor and stomps on it. The gritty sound feels like boiling water in your audio-sensitive drugged up state.

"Are the ropes too tight?" He asks with a quirk of his head, you squint, thinking you'll be able to catch a glimpse of his face, but the dark shadows and your pupils trying desperately to adjust to the lighting in the dim room make the task much too difficult. You didn't even notice you were bound 'till you tugged your wrists at the mention of the word 'rope.'

The mystery man straightens his posture and takes a few steps closer to you. His sneakers are downtrodden. The lacing is asymmetrical, any recognizable color or branding rubbed off, and the hem of his loose jeans caked in what seems to be mud.

"Come on, you can speak, can't you? It's not like I taped up your mouth." The tone of voice he uses here is almost playful, yet too vague. You didn't know if it was condescending, comforting, or cheerful.

"I... I'm... Ropes are okay..." You respond mindlessly, your voice coming out in a hoarse croak. God, it feels like your head could loll off your neck at any moment.

"Poor thing. You sound parched– Tell ya what, I'll give you some water if you kiss me." Even if his face is still hazy, you can make out the glint of a smile. His canines are pointy.

He draws closer, and crouches in front of your seated figure. He's a lot taller than you thought, seeing him up close. You see the indent of a pointed dimple by the edge of his sharp lip corners when he turns his cheek to you. There's a few moles on his pale skin. He smells like tobacco, rust, and rainwater. Smells a bit like something syrupy and moldy, but maybe that's just the room.

You shudder away from his close proximity, and he laughs nervously.

"Aw, I thought that'd work." He chuckles, before facing you fully, still crouching.

You can finally see his face. What you thought were dark brown eyes turned out to be a dull shade of purple, just with his pupils as fully blown as they can go. The stare is creepy, but at least his droopy outer eye corners and straight blond eyelashes soften their impression. His nose is well-structured and pointy, reddish at the tip. His sharp lip corners seem to always point upwards, and were pink like they had just been kissed and bitten. If it weren't for this moment, you'd have thought he was an attractive man with a somewhat docile-looking face. His cheeks are flushed, he tilts his head in wonder, a few pieces of his hair falling over his face.

"Merde, you're really pretty up close. I can't believe you're in front of me right now. I missed you so, so much." He giggles, cold hand reaching out to carefully grasp your chin to try and steady your bobbing head.

He swoons, "So, so pretty." then presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. The action makes him exhale a shuddered, moaning breath. Whatever is in your system prevents you from reacting too much besides a weak jerk of your body.

"I should get you out of this shitty room, but I wanted to be prepared in case you reacted more violently. I didn't wanna have to drag you around. Don't wanna rough my baby up." He says with a small smile, as if the thought secretly brings him some amusement. Maybe his otherwise comforting smile just comes off as sinister at a time like this.

"You're reacting so much better than I thought you would, though. You're being so, so good, you know?" He coos like you're a pet, taking his hand off your chin and his blunt fingernails gently scratching at the top of your scalp.

Your throat hurts. You swallow dryly. "Who are you?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, and his smile drops slightly. He takes in a deep breath and sighs, cigarette-stained air blowing over your face.

He squints at you. "You really don't remember me?" He says quietly.

You shake your head. His light eyebrows knit in what looks like an expression of heartbreak.

He tries to jog your memory. "Come on, college sweethearts?"

"...I didn't date anyone in college."

His lips part in shock, the wrinkles between his eyebrows deepening.

"It's Mattie. Come on now." He pleads, desperation dripping from every word. The higher, more pathetic register his voice shifts into begins to jog your memory.

The sound of that nickname makes your eyes widen and forces your shoulders to press against the back of the chair. His identity makes things a million times worse.

"...M-Matthew Williams? No, no, c'mon, we never dated. Don't be like this."

"We had something special, though. I missed you. You missed me too, didn't you? You even remembered my full name." Matthew's gentle voice raises, as if trying to convince you of his feelings, trying to justify this situation.

"Th-There must've been a better way to get in contact with me without tying me up."

He shakes his head, frown almost a pout. "I did try! But you'd always blow me off to hang out with your other friends, a-and– and I just couldn't watch when I found out you were starting to see someone else." Resting on his knees and looking up at you, he grasps your bound hands on your lap. The position reminds you of prayer. Worship.

"I love you. Always have. A-And I know I'm different from how I used to be, but maybe you'll like this newer version of me more. You did say you liked a more assertive partner, didn't you?" His head tilts while he nods, like he's trying to convince you of everything he's saying.

His crazed eyes quickly scan your expression for any validation. "Yeah, yeah... I-I was a doormat back then, so that's probably why you didn't return my feelings." He laughs bitterly, and the sight is almost irritatingly funny to you. He's comparing his former pitiful self to the way he is now, as if he had changed. "But I'm different now. I'm not a coward anymore. I'll take care of you, and I'll do it well, I promise. I'll make you so happy."

"Please, Mattie, j-just let me go, and I'll give you a chance–"

He gasps. "You used my nickname." A disgustingly lovestruck grin spreads on his pale freckled face. He presses your bound hands against his flat chest. His heart is beating wildly against his ribcage.

"Feel my heartbeat. It's all for you. It only beats for you. I promise I can make you feel the same way for me. Just let me."

"...Do I even have any other choice? You kidnapped me."

Matthew's smile falters, eyes drooping, and he looks just as pathetic as he did all those years ago. He frowns flimsily. "I-I'm sorry. But I'll be good to you. Really. I'll be so good for you."

You shut your eyes and lean your head back. Your whole body hurts. Weighing out your options, you make a decision. If this Matthew is just as pathetic as the one you remember, then maybe you have a chance to escape if you butter him up enough.

"Fine. Untie me first."

Matthew's eyes widen. "R-Really? If you fight back, though, I'll have to use force, so, please, just... Don't run."

"I get it."

Eagerly, he brings out a knife and cuts through the rope. He rubs and massages your wrists for you when you're freed from your restraints. Dusts your clothes off for you, too. Though, you're wondering if what you think is a needlessly thoughtful action is just an excuse for him to feel you up.

"Let's get out of this basement, yeah? It's much better upstairs. Promise." He says, gently holding onto your hand. His are covered in bruises and small wounds. Butterflies are taking flight like fighter jets in his stomach.

When you stand up, Matthew pauses for a bit, violet eyes raking over your figure.

"Sorry, I just–" He starts, before cutting himself off by quickly stepping closer to you and encasing your body in a hug. He trembles and lets out a shaky breath, tightening his hold.

"I missed you so much," His voice cracks, "So happy you're here. Really. I feel like I'm on top of the world having you all to myself. You're all mine, finally."

Matthew takes in a sharp, obstructed breath. "Ugh, I–" He pulls away and his voice sounds all wet. He's crying. If you weren't so woozy, you would have scolded him when he wipes his face with his dirty jacket sleeve. Even now, you care about him, and maybe that's why he's fallen so helplessly in love with you.

He feels like he's shriveling into himself when all he does is simply breathe and what comes out is a sniffle. It's shameful, to boast about being a changed, stronger man, only to fall apart with a hug.

Wordlessly, he gulps his insecurities down his scratchy throat and grabs your wrist, taking you up the dusty wooden steps and leaving the basement. He does this with such little care it surprises you a little. It forces you to come to your senses in order to not stumble over your own heavy feet.

The actual interior of the house is much less industrial-looking than what you'd assumed from the basement. Rustic is the first word to pop into your mind to describe this place. Cottagecore, like the trendy people say, but... with a whole lot less of that trendy factor. It definitely is comfortable, which is a relief considering the storm outside.

Oh.

Looking out the window makes you realize something dreadful. You were never scared of the dark, pitch-darkness, even, but the vantablack surroundings beyond the glass begins to shroud you in a shadow of realization; there is a total absence of light. There are no lights, there are no houses nearby, there is nothing. You were in the middle of nowhere. You glance down to Matthew's battered sneakers and mud-caked jeans, and wonder how much trouble they went through to get you here.

He senses your staring, and looks to you, following your gaze and flushing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. This is no outfit for a reunion as important as this." He laughs sheepishly, weakly. He had managed to swallow his tears, with the only evidence left behind being his reddish waterline and nostrils.

"I'll, uh, I'll go change– Just sit down anywhere you'd like. Those drugs will take a bit to leave your system. I'll fix you something up to wash it down as soon as I'm back, sweetie." Matthew stays for a moment, gnawing on his lip like he's weighing something out in his mind, before deciding to just go for it. He leans in to quickly place a kiss to your temple, and despite his attempt at nonchalance, he lets out a thin, shaky breath, before scampering off into what you assume is his bedroom.

Still nauseated, you hobble over to the couch and collapse onto it with more grace than you expected. You spare only a few seconds before forcing yourself back up, making the most of your time alone to examine the area without the pressure of Matthew watching you.

You scan the room quickly, making note of any possible exits. There are only two in this living room. The window, and the lone door against the other side of the room. Nearing and examining the window, you quickly find that it has a keyed lock, and rush over to the door.

Keyed, padlocked, deadbolted. God, he really went through the trouble of installing multiple of these. You could only imagine what his keyring looked like. You wonder if you could nab it.

A long-fingered hand clamps over your shoulder, digging into your collarbones and pulling you back. It's over so quickly you don't even have time to complain and yell about the pain.

"What do you wanna eat?" Matthew asks sweetly. His voice, though recognizable, is different from the way you remember it. His signature softspoken-ness is still there, but it's hoarse, slightly deeper. Maybe it's because he started smoking, but no cigarette can be owed the credit of the subtle confidence in his tone– Maybe not confidence, but some sort of certainty.

Your irises tremble slightly at the startle as you return his stare, before gulping and answering. "...Anything's fine."

"Pancakes it is." He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. As he walks to the quaint kitchen, he pulls a black hair tie off of his bony wrist and begins tidying his wavy, honey blond locks into a low ponytail. His hair's grown so much since you last saw him, and you can't help but think it suits him well.

It's not just his hair, the rest of him has grown, too. Matthew's gained a few inches of height, though he looks slimmer than before. You're unsure if he lost weight, or if his height just makes him look thinner than he actually is. He's aware of it, that he looks slightly worse for wear, but he couldn't help but lose his appetite being away from you for so long. He'll gain it back eventually to look good for you. I have to, he tells himself.

Now that he's rid of his jacket and clad in just a loose, plain graphic shirt, you get a better look of the wounds on his arms. It's mostly around his knuckles and palms, maybe he's clumsy, maybe he does a lot of physical labor, those are strangers to you, but you're familiar with the thin scars on the inside of his wrists. They're faded and old now, thank god, but you remember the long teary nights in college you'd spend trying to convince him not to hurt himself just because you couldn't spend time with him that week. You made him promise he wouldn't do it anymore, and judging by the lack of fresh wounds, he's kept his word. Though those memories make your head throb, you feel slightly proud.

You wobble over to the couch, deciding to take a seat to try and soothe the nausea bubbling about inside you. You remember those red plaid pajamas he's wearing, too. Always wore them whenever you came over. You wince as another wave of pain ripples through your skull, and you wonder if he's purposefully dressed himself like that to remind him of his most favorite time in his life, one that he thought was yours too.

That smell of butter, vanilla, and syrup doesn't help. While your stomach does respond to the smell, you can't help but think of Matthew first before the food. He always smelled faintly of maple syrup, along with hints of lavender and men's shower gel. His old apartment reeked of it. You never thought such an innocuous scent could bring you so much irritation.

Matthew glances behind him, finding your zoned out, furrow-browed stare.

"Your head hurting real bad?" He calls out from behind his back, focusing on the current stack of pancakes he was building by the stove.

"Yeah," You say under your breath. You're not sure why you even bothered responding if you knew you were gonna answer so silently. A part of you felt it rude had you just been unresponsive, but good god, forget the formalities, he'd kidnapped you!

After a few more moments of head-clutching silence, Matthew arrives, sitting on the couch and placing a plate of pancakes on the wooden coffee table in front of you.

"Come on now, you should eat. You've been knocked out for a while, you're about to miss lunch and dinner." He says lightly, a faint sternness in his voice, like he were speaking to a child. You scoff feebly.

"Nah, I... I don't really feel like eating." Despite the apparent hunger pangs in your stomach, you feel terribly sick in the throat, like you were constantly on the verge of retching. As much as you wanted to down the food he's prepared for you, just the thought of eating makes you gag.

He lets out a small laugh. "Want me to feed you?" Scooting closer, he leans down and tilts his head to get a better look at your pallid, gloomy face, heavy with queasiness. You're still so beautiful, he thinks.

You shake your head adamantly at that, immediately regretting it at the dull pain that amounts from the action. "No, no, I'm alright, Mattie," You bite your tongue when you realize you've called him by that stupid nickname again. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

He can't help the cheesy expression on his face and the way his heart flutters at the nickname. "It'll get worse if you don't eat." He pouts. "Come on, at least five bites." He picks up a fork, already slicing a small bit for you, and holding it up to your mouth.

You look at it with a small frown and wince in your expression, and his eyes darken.

"I'll tell you where one of the keys are if you eat."

Those words grab your attention immediately, and haplessly, you take a bite of the pancake he offers you. Matthew lets out an airy giggle.

"I remember you used to complain so much about this. Whenever I tried to feed you." He says with a pointy, wistful smile. "You've changed a lot over the years. Still so in love with you, though." His gaze is heartbreakingly warm.

You look at him, heart stopping in your chest for a moment at how sincerely he's looking at you. His heart does the same, but just at the mere action of you meeting his eyes, acknowledging his existence.

"You too." You say simply, despite your thoughts being so much more than those two words imply. When his cheeks redden and his lips gape, you quickly correct yourself. "Uh, that you've changed. Not that I love you." He huffs a dry chuckle.

"Figured, but I wanted to believe it." Matthew cuts up another piece of the pancake and offers it to you. You bite, and his blush only darkens. While you're chewing, he speaks again.

"You're not wearing that bracelet I made you anymore." He makes a sad face.

You swallow, "It's in my apartment. Felt too bad to throw it away." The light returns to his lavender eyes and he grins warmingly at you.

The bracelet is simple, a thin twist bracelet made with red thread, all entwined together with love. Matthew gave it to you during a morning class, blushing and stuttering. He made one for himself, too, like the red string of fate, he giggled when he said this, lovingly looking at the matching bracelets around your wrists. Now that your vision was less foggy, you can now see that what you thought was a wound was actually that same bracelet around his wrist. The color has faded slightly, more dull with dirt and age, while yours is still as vibrant as the day he gave it to you. It's a shame he didn't nab it when abducting you.

"You still care about me." He grins, almond eyes sparkling with mirth.

"To my own detriment." You smile emptily at him, taking the fork from his grasp and quickly eating the rest of what you owe him.

"The key?" You remind him, and he seems like a lost puppy for a moment, before it hits him, his pointy-fanged grin widening. He chuffs bashfully, as if a secret of his had been revealed, before he answers, awfully joyous; "Oh, I was lying." He laughs almost childishly.

A feeling of cold dread and shame drips from your head and down your shoulders. Of course, why did you assume so easily that he'd just hand that to you on a silver platter? At the same time, of course you would, he's Matthew Williams, the same man who gave you his coat and paid your bus fare the first time you two met. He insisted you kept it, said it suited you better and he's got hundreds more like it anyways. You did, you kept using it over the years even when you graduated. You used it this morning, maybe that's why it was so easy for him to recognize you. Your gullibility strikes you with chagrin and you can only retaliate by pushing back.

"What? We made a deal. Why would you lie to me?"

Matthew's usually docile expression falls, and suddenly you feel like you genuinely have no idea who this man is anymore, and you regret thinking that you could just walk all over him and out that door like you did all those years ago.

"Do you think you have any control over this situation, sweetie?" He crawls closer, palms dipping the couch cushions. "Did you really think I'd guard you so loosely? After all these years?" The collar of his shirt hangs from his neck as he leans down, collarbones prominent. "Did you think I'd let you leave me again? Stupid." He spits, though it seems like the final insult was more directed towards himself than you.

You scoot back until your back hits the armrest, and before you can try and slide off the couch, a lithe arm cages you in.

"It tore me up, ripped me to shreds and I came back a different person, but the only thing that stayed, that didn't change, was my love for you– No, my love for you is what broke me in the first place. Please, god, just soothe me a little." Matthew's voice crescendos until it cracks, hysterical expression making you relive the hell that was your college days together.

"Just love me a little." He whimpers weakly, before pressing a desperate kiss to your lips, moaning in surprise as if he wasn't the one to kiss you first. It's short, brief, like it zaps him, too much for his poor racing heart to handle. The bright smile returns to his face when he pulls away, breathless. It stays despite the horrified look on your face.

"Why are you so disgusted? You already tasted plenty of me in those pancakes. You looked so cute eating up my spit." He teases, his glee evident in his voice, the loose strands of his hair tickling your face. The realization of what you had just consumed, what now sits heavily in the pit of your stomach, was something of his, makes you dizzy with abhorrence. You try to push him off, but he slams your shoulder back into the cushions, hands vice-like and heavy against your skin.

Matthew is panting, and when he catches his breath, his eyes widen and his irises shake. You can see his pupils contract and dilate. "I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry– Didn't mean to– Ah, merde." He whimpers, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. He's already reduced to a groveling mess, and you've barely said anything. "Please love me, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I love you!" He cries, and you hate that you really do feel sorry for him.

You hate him, hate the shit he keeps putting you through, hate how soft his voice is, hate how pathetic he is, hate how reliant he is on you, hate seeing his tears. You hate how he still manages to pull pity from you despite everything he's put you through.

With a shriek through gritted teeth, you fist his shirt and yank him down, this kiss is intended, and definitely felt like, more akin to an act of harm over love, but poor Matthew can't tell the difference.

He melts into it with a loving sigh despite his bleeding lips.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

[amelee23]

Stray kids and their sneaky love antics | Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Stray kids members X reader (reader is implied to have periods in Felix's part but other than that no pronouns are used)

Genre: Fluff, comedy, bullet point

Warnings: sNeAkY bois, pranking and blaming it on ghosts, lino opens your bags without permission, overprotective behavior (??), they're all playing dumb, Jeongin is one feisty boy, periods, food (sweets) , lots of TEASING

Length: 2k total

A/N: It's all just for fun I swear 😂 I couldn't sleep last night so I came up with this lmao

Chan who always puts spare change in your jacket pockets

Maybe he noticed how you always seem to freeze on the spot or apologize awkwardly every time cashiers ask you if you have any change

Or maybe this is just his way of giving you money in a way you don't notice so you won't scold him for spoiling you (again)

You don't notice it at first, but you do breathe a sigh of relief when you actually do have some coins on your next purchase

And the next one...

And the next one after that...

Okay hold up, what the-

Is your jacket pocket an endless well of fortune??? You're taking out coins but they keep coming back???

Nah just joking of course you realized it was Chan

Especially since one day you caught him, like a gremlin in the dark, hovering around your jacket in the hallway

"Whatcha doing, boo?"

He jumps and tries to splutter some excuse to you but you're not impressed

"Ah, I wanted to ask you, do you have some spare change by any chance?" You tease him and he bursts out laughing and turns beet red

"You caught me!" He exclaims, still laughing as you drag him out of the dark to cuddle with you

"You sneaky coin goblin" you tease him further and ruffle his hair

────────── · · · · ✦

Lee know who always puts packets of sweet biscuits in your purse/ backpack

It's a habit for him, he's a caretaker - packets of snacks for all of his kittens (you included)

You told him you liked those packets of biscuits you bought from the supermarket last time

And you told him you get hungry often when you're not home

1+1=2

Lino buys biscuits. Lino puts said biscuits in your bag. And then he acts like nothing happened, of course

So when you come home one day, and look inside your bag and go "oh, how'd this get here?" he shrugs his shoulders.

"Aren't they yours?" And you're like sir what

"No? Maybe someone put them in my bag by mistake?"

"No no I'm pretty sure they're yours." He answers and you're like. Oh. I see how it is.

"And you had absolutely nothing do to with them, right?" You tease, and he purses his lips and shakes his head no

"Well then if they're mine, let's eat them!" You explain, and Lino snatches them out of your hand lmao

"No, I'm pretty sure they were there so you can eat them when you get hungry outside."

"Wow it's so weird you know that considering you had nothing to do with them!" Oh he's trying so hard to keep a straight face but he's failing

So you put them back in your bag and actually keep them as an emergency snack. And then send lino a pic with the empty foil saying "thank you <3" and he literally replies with "thank the ghosts not me. I told you I had nothing to do with it."

The ghosts continued to put biscuits in your bag

────────── · · · · ✦

Changbin who always carries around a fanny pack with a tiny bottle of water inside in case you get thirsty outside

Changbin often showcases his care for others by looking after their health

Sometimes he can be a little irritating and pushy, always telling you to exercise and eat this and that and what not

You came to a compromise eventually, you're not gonna work out with him but you're gonna go out often and go on many walks

After all it's quality time, right?

But no no the mans come prepared

Always. Wether it's an intended walk for exercise or a walk for romantic vibes or you're going to the mall, doesn't matter

He always has that teeny tiny water bottle with him just so he can go like "you thirsty? I gotcha babe" lmao

Because as Changbin always says, "soda doesn't help with your thirst, only water does" 🙄

He's no fun sometimes but you still love his overbearing ass <3

────────── · · · · ✦

Hyunjin who "accidentally" gets paint on the clothes of his you like sleeping in so that you could keep them

They say there's two stages to falling in love with a man

First, you fall in love with him.

Second, you fall in love with his clothes

And oh boy that hoodie of his was looking mighty fine that evening

And the evening after

Hyunjin could swear you growl louder than Kkami if he tries to take his clothes back

Well then oOps. He mighty have accidentally painted wearing that hoodie and might have accidentally stained it with paint (weird that the stain looked like it was made with a brush, huh.)

You were like, "Oh no! We can wash it??" And he was like this paint is really hard to get out of the material, so you just HAD to keep it as your sleeping hoodie now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But then it just so happened you also caught a crush on a shirt of his one day

How'd that one also end up stained with paint???

A whole ass mystery

But oop looks like that shirt can't be worn outside anymore either, what a shame.

Hyunjin smiles to himself as he sees the collection of his clothes that are purely reserved for you, sitting on the shelf he's dedicated to you.

They're just clothes after all. Objects. He doesn't care about them, he can replace them. But you're everything to him

────────── · · · · ✦

Han who always comes up with new nicknames and endearment terms, each one sweeter than the other

You can't lie. At first it was kinda cringe

The way he was all like "ah, my sweetie honey poo, my shiny golden angel, the first ray of sunshine of spring warming up my heart"

Ok, dork lmao

But they always made you laugh

And he loved seeing you happy

Some days he wouldn't do it and you'd instantly notice

It became a necessity, okay? To hear what ridiculous, creative mishmash of words he could throw your way

So you'd go outta your way to ask him, "so what am I to you today?"

And Jisung's brain is buffering  "Uh, my lover?"

"Just your lover? What happened to being as soft and sweet as creme brulee?" He said that once. Yep.

And his eyes light up! He scoots closer and picks up your hand to kiss it

"You're the reflection of everything I hoped I could deserve in this world. My crystal ball of good fortune"

How does he keep coming up with these, nobody will ever know

But your goofy lyrical genius will do anything for you

────────── · · · · ✦

Felix who knows your menstrual cycle by heart and always carries pads with him

It's not that Felix paid extra attention to when you were talking about your period. He just ALWAYS paid attention to what you said

He's a man of detail

So he was listening to you, always offering to help you out with whatever you were craving or needing, and eventually he began to note down your cycle in his calendar and that somehow lead to preparing in advance every month

With snacks, asking you if pms is bothering you, if you're irritated, hungry etc

And of course he'd buy you pads for the house that's just a granted

But on top of that he also had an extra pack at his place from which he'd take one or two pads and put them inside his backpack for emergencies

He'd advise you to check if you can take days off in case the pain is too bad

And he won't push you to go out AT ALL

It's like he had two modes: boyfriend mode and older sister mode 😂

All in all he's not afraid to put in effort and he's a literal angel I'm telling you

────────── · · · · ✦

Seungmin who keeps putting candy in the pockets of your pajama pants

This one started out as a prank

He had no other choice but to get a couple of candy because the shop he bought from had no change to give him

And he won't just give you the candy, duuh

You had a habit of throwing your pajama pants on the back of a chair

His eyes landed of them and the plan locked in his head

He literally sat there and watched you put on the pants clueless. And then he URGED YOU to come to bed exasperatedly

But you were uncomfortable??? Something was poking your leg??

You take out the candy and squint at it in the dark

"What is this doing here?"

"I know right, why do you have candy in your pajamas, you weirdo."

Oh THE GLARE you gave him

Seungmin had an epiphany that night. That messing with you is fun. Oh boy.

He waited before doing it again, of course. He had to keep you on your toes

But this time you caught on the moment you pulled up the pants up your leg

"Kim Seungmin!" You exclaimed while laughing and he feigned innocence yet again. You still haven't eaten the candy from last time, so with a bunch of candy in your hand, you dropped them on the bed and began unwrapping one as you guys watched Netflix

"If you keep buying them, let's at least eat them, you fiend."

"Ew I don't want your gross pant candy." But he ate it after you thew a pillow in his face

But one time he put an entire candy cane in there and it was just jutting out of your pocket like a Christmas stocking and you literally broke into a laughter fit for 15 minutes straight

────────── · · · · ✦

Jeongin who will pick a fight with any person who interrupts you while you're speaking

Jeongin began to get angry on your behalf ever since you started dating

He's usually so calm, so chill

But suddenly!! if someone messes with his baby say goodbye calmness

That one guy who closed a door in your face? Literally scolded a stranger for closing a door in someone's face like that

God forbid someone pushes you on the street

He will literally sit there and teach people manners lmao

But if there's one thing about manners he hates, it's being interrupted while speaking

But if YOU get interrupted while you're speaking?

W a r

"Do you need to clean your ears? Someone was speaking."

Literally how DARE THEY interrupt his sweet angel

You could literally be talking to him about pigeons and he'd still think it's the most important thing he's ever heard

The amount of times he's sassily shushed people so you'd be able to finish one goddamn sentence

He's so disappointed in society, can you tell?

────────── · · · · ✦

If you like what you see, consider donating so I can keep writing!

[ms-demeanor]

Knowledge Fight anon again - thank you for the list and recs! I look forwatd to checking them out. I was excited to see there's a West Wing podcast because I enjoyed that show, but yourself and the hosts hate it so maybe not for me lmao. Though I will still give the first episode a listen - very curious to understand why our feeligns about the show differ so vastly. And if you -want- to rant about why you hate TWW - feel free! I'm genuinely curious - I'm European, have never lived in the US, so for me it was one of the biggest tools of learning how US politics work, which made it absolutely fascinating to watch.

Anyways! I'll be looking at the other podcasts as well, they all seem very interesting, and the common-denominator format you describe them having does jive with me. Thanks again!

My very republican father and sister very much wish that all democrats would act like the democrats in the west wing. It's touted as a point of honor and a great example of compromise when Democrat Jed Bartlett appoints a republican justice to the Supreme court, any time there's an environmentalist or a union supporter on the show they're painted as extreme and uncompromising, in the later seasons the Jimmy Smitts character is running as a democrat on a pro-school-vouchers, anti-tenure/union (so anti-public school, basically) platform, the show as a whole is against entitlements (free college especially is something the ostensible dems in the show aren't even interested in enough to lament).

Idk at a certain point it gets frustrating to see anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-healthcare republicans being praised as the mature compromisers in the room with complicated motivations and good points when every time a leftist protest shows up it's a warehouse full of people without enough message discipline to talk to to cameras without erupting into a shouting match and getting brushed off as whiny babies by toby zigler.

"Oh, we need CJ to look a little loopy, let's have her agree with these cartographers who are pointing out that the mercator projection privileges the global north." "Oh we need to present something that's a ridiculous waste of money, how about a wildlife crossing that would prevent keystone species injuries in an area of urban incursion, that's bullshit that we shouldn't spend money on." "Oh, we want to explain why big pharma can't provide free HIV meds to african nations in 2003, let's suggest that it wouldn't matter even if they did because *Africans don't have clocks and can't take meds 12 hours apart.*" "this hollywood producer is pushing too hard for gay marriage in 2007, let's lecture him about how you need to slow down and respect the process instead of being an activist about it"

There's this interview with Aaron Sorkin where he's saying "America used to be the world's heroes, when my dad was a soldier people would say 'thank god, the Americans are here' and they don't say that anymore and it's because of Donald Trump" - Sorkin totally ignores US imperialism and the way that people in Vietnam and Iraq and Afghanistan wouldn't say 'thank god, the americans are here' to an extent that is genuinely startling, and that shows up in the show. At one point in the show president bartlett okays the assassination of a foreign leader and says 'today we enter the league of ordinary nations' as though the US hasn't backed coups or assassination around the world, as though the CIA isn't a thing, as though Henry Kissinger isn't a thing, and it's *bizarre* from a show that is supposed to be politically aware.

I'm actually super hesitant to recommend the west wing thing to general audiences because i don't always agree with the hosts or their guests but as an analysis of the surprisingly right-leaning politics of the show it's a worthwhile listen.

It's honestly something i could rant about for way too long because I had early warning signs about it. My sister *loves* this show and its politics. She's got a "my president is Jed Bartlett" sticker that she keeps next to her signed copy of one of Ann Coulter's books. If my sister thinks your liberal character is reasonable and level headed and has good policy positions, your liberal character isn't all that liberal.

The show is steeped in American exceptionalism and imperialist apologia but it's got a tearjerker soundtrack and maybe the best and most charming cast ever assembled so you ignore it when CJ wants to brush off constitutional protections against illegal search and seizure or cruel and unusual punishment (she's a huge fan of cops and intelligence agencies and not a fan of oversight) or when she shits on affirmative action (she believes her father lost his dream job to a less qualified candidate who was selected due to minority status, and that that job loss led to his mental decline - CJ Craig thinks that DEI hiring practices killed her father) because Allison Janney is an incredibly talented and charismatic actress who is elevating the hell out of her character.

But, you know, it would be kind of fucked up if a Democrat president's chief of staff was cheerfully on-record about the fact that she thinks intelligence agencies are more effective when nobody knows what they're doing so we should leave them to their own devices.

Thank you for the opportunity to rant i cannot fucking stand this show and i kind of want to do an episode-by-episode breakdown of various flavors of bullshit but there are much better things to do with my time so i don't but it's nice to have a chance to yell about the stuff that makes me crazy off the top of my head.

That said: if you want a podcast that is less vitriolic but does actually get into how parts of the US political system work, check out 5 to 4, which is a podcast by 3 lefty lawyers talking about Supreme Court decisions. It's great!

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[thrillered]

meeting spencer at a bar and he gets super confident out of no where and sweeps reader off their feet lmao

This was so fun and silly to write. Love you all <3

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The music was loud. You were standing at the bar, waiting for the bartender to come over to you. Your good friend Angela was in town for Vidcon and she insisted you come out with her and meet her friends. You weren’t much of a partier but you hadn’t seen Angela in so long that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. 

You had gone to college with Angela, she quickly became one of your best friends. You were heartbroken when you had to leave LA, receiving an opportunity you couldn’t refuse. 

It was like the bartender disappeared. You decided to sit down, still not seeing Angela inside. You knew she was on her way but you assumed it took a minute to leave Vidcon considering the fame smosh had amassed. 

—

“Oh my god! I’m so excited!” Angela gushed, sitting in the uber with Spencer and Amanda. 

“Hey Spencer, do you think she's excited?” Amanda asked teasingly. 

“This girls gotta be the best with how much praise you’ve given her.” Spencer remarked, having heard almost nothing but things about you since the plans were solidified. 

“I'm serious Spencer! I think you’re gonna love her! You gotta talk to her.” She demanded. 

“Okay we’ll see.” Spencer compromised. 

—

Amanda and Angela beelined it for the bathroom the second they got to the bar, leaving Spencer alone. He made his way to the bar, waiting to order a soda. He stood there for a minute, not seeing a worker behind the bar. 

“I honestly think he went missing.” You commented, noticing the way the curly haired man was looking back and forth. 

“What?” He asked, turning to find the voice.

“I’ve been waiting for like 6 minutes.” You laughed, fixing the strap on your top. “I just want a sprite man.” 

Spencer zero’d in on you, focusing on your voice over the loud music. He looked you up and down, taking you in. “You come to a bar for just a sprite?” He asked, stepping a bit closer to you. “I think there’s a McDonalds down the street and it's like 2 dollars there.” 

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly. “You don’t say? I’m actually meeting a friend.” You explained. 

“Oh shit, that sounds like a date.” Spencer put his hands up, “Didn’t mean to harsh your vibe.” 

He was cute you thought, in a kinda nerdy way. Unfortunately, that was just your type. He had brown hair that curled slightly, especially around the nape of his neck you noticed. He was wearing a Creed shirt with a denim jacket over it, his glasses complimenting his eyes. He seemed familiar too, you weren’t sure why, granted he was a white guy and you lived in california so there were a lot of white guys. 

“Actually, do I know you?” You asked, with a scrutinizing stare, using this as an opportunity to really look at him.

“I don’t think so, but I’d like it if you would.” Spencer said, shocked at his forwardness. 

“Oh? Care to make that happen for me?” You asked, curious about the stranger in front of you. “Tell me about yourself.” 

Spencer had completely forgotten about Angela and Amanda. They hadn’t come to find him and some other friends were also coming so he assumed they met up with them, maybe Courtney or Erin. Frankly he couldn’t care less either. He had a beautiful and seemingly witty woman in front of him that he was confidently talking to, who cared about his friends? He introduced himself to you, providing a more formal greeting. 

The establishment was large but especially crowded in front of the bar, even with the M.I.A bartender. Spencer grabbed your hand and led you to a more quiet booth against a wall. The tall backing in the booth providing extra privacy for you. Before he sat down Spencer took off his jacket, folding it over and placing it beside him, giving you a new view of his arms. He had tattoos on both of them. You couldn’t help but stare, your eyes darting across the many different patches of ink.

“You like ‘em?” Spencer asked, noticing your gaze.

“I like the ones I can see.” You replied. 

“Here.” He said, sliding into the booth next to you and rolling his sleeve up, exposing more ink. 

You moved in closer, carefully examining each tattoo. “Thwomp, classy.” 

“At least you know who he is.” 

“I think I know all of these characters,” You looked, noting each of the pokemon, cartoon, and game characters. Your eyes stopping on a small rectangular character, “Except maybe this guy.” You traced the tattoo, looking up to the man, who you now know to be Spencer, for an explanation. 

“That’s boxman.” 

“Points for accuracy I suppose.” You giggled. “Do you have any more? Or just on your arms?” 

“I have others, wanna see?” He asked, smirking. 

“If you’re about to show me a waluigi tattoo on your left buttcheek…” You trailed off, “Count me in.” 

Spencer laughed hard at this. Your humor seemed to match his very well. “You still down if it’s on my right buttcheek?” He asked, piling onto your joke. 

“I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere Spencer.” You remarked. 

His stomach flipped at the use of his name, something about the way it sounded coming from you was so right. He couldn’t help but stare. You looked almost ethereal, even in the dim lighting of the bar. 

You had been engrossed in your conversation with Spencer, you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing every few seconds. You unlocked your phone to 14 missed texts and 4 calls from Angela. The messages beginning with “Hey I’m here!” to “meet me at the bar” and “Where are you?” “God now I can’t find my other friend”. 

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Remember how I said I was meeting a friend?” 

“Not really… but yeah?” 

“Yeah me neither, that’s the issue. She's here and I’ve been ignoring her.” You explained, immediately feeling guilty. “I gotta go but it was nice meeting you!” 

You began to walk away, Spencer having moved to let you leave the booth. You stopped for a moment before turning around and crossing the few feet back to Spencer. “Since I’m leaving I just wanna say you’re really cute.” 

You walked away before he could say anything, making your way around the bar until you found Angela. 

“I am so sorry Angela oh my god!” You said, swiftly walking up to her. “I got distracted by this super cute guy, which is no excuse.” 

“It’s okay, I’m just so glad to see you!” Angela replied, throwing her arms around you. “It’s been too long.” 

“God I know!” You huffed, “Oh! Did you ever find your other friend?” You asked, remembering her text. 

“Not yet, I’m sure he’ll turn up.” Angela reassured. “Let me introduce you to some people!” She led you a table down, getting the attention of everyone. “Guys! This is one of my best friends from college! Meet Y/N!” 

“It’s really great to meet you all!” You smiled, looking around the table. 

People began introducing themselves. The introductions made their way around the table before Alex, who was sitting across from you, noted, “We’re just missing Spencer.” 

“S-Spencer?” You asked, slightly choking on the water Angela had gotten you. 

“Yeah, that’s the other friend I can’t find.” Angela explained. 

“Uh.. He doesn’t happen to have a denim jacket does he? Or a lot of tattoos? Notably a thwomp and large crab on his arm?” 

“Yes, that's exactly him!” Angela approved. “You see him?” 

You sighed deeply, realizing you had been accidentally ignoring her for her very attractive friend. “I met him, uh, yeah… You know how I told you about that ‘Super cute’ guy?” 

“No way..” Angela said, immediately putting two and two together. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Spencer walked up to the table, a coke in hand, not noticing you. Until Alex tried to introduce you two. You both froze for a moment, shocked, then quickly broke into fits of laughter. 

Spencer walked over to you, placing a hand on the small of your back as you both laughed. “We, uh, we met.” Spencer managed to get out, stifling his laughter. 

You found his laugh to be wonderful, like the sweetest music. It was dorky and yet so attractive. 

“I told you you would like her!!” Angela exclaimed. 

“I never said I liked her.” Spencer shut her down, sarcastically. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder, turning him slightly to face you. “Oh? You don’t like me?” You asked incredulously with a raised brow and a smirk. “I can totally leave.” 

“I wouldn’t do all that.” He laughed, putting an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. 

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” You flirted. 

—

You caught up with Angela, telling each other about what had been happening in your lives. All while Spencer was by your side. After a little while Spencer untangled himself to go to the bathroom. 

“Holy shit.” Angela laughed, “He really likes you, damn.” 

“He must do this to all women.” You waved her off. Even though he was kinda dorky, the confidence he held with you had to be a regular thing for him. 

“Y/N.. he doesn’t talk to women.. And he's got his arm around you?? I don’t know what it is but damn he wants you bad! I’ve literally never seen him like this.” 

You thought about her words. You weren’t a super confident person either but something about Spencer was just easy to be around, maybe he felt the same about you. It was extra flattering knowing you were both sober and he just genuinely liked you. 

—

A few hours passed, people slowly leaving and heading back to their hotels. Finally you were about to say your goodbyes, giving Angela a hug and a promise to make your way to LA soon. 

“I guess this is goodbye Spencer.” You noted, sticking your hands in your pockets. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” He countered. 

“Oh?” 

“I mean if you need company tonight I’m free.” He offered, running a hand through his hair. His gorgeous hair. 

“You don’t have any big youtube commitments in the morning?” You teased.

“Not one.” He punctuated, giving you a long look up and down. 

Your face heated and stomach flipped at the insinuation. “My cars out front then.”

“Lead the way.”