#sleep deprived swagger

[bumpscosity]

Maybe ropedropping disneyland and then staying until it closed, thus only getting about 7 hours of sleep after walking 10+ miles a day for 3 days in a row wasnt such a good idea

[felixcosm]

What's more gay two men fucking or whatever Jack has going on with literally every male character in the books

[drdrizzey]

I was very sleep deprived but my brain decided to make some Eldritch monster Jon Art!!

Tiedye Jon is real

Tmagp spoilers AND TMA S5 SPOILERS!! (Tmagp Ep 21 and 23)

There's my amazing cutiepatootie mega swaggers monster Jon, I'll quote Gwen here "I know how many eyes a normal human has" or something like that, Jon Sims, dead-2021, weird Eldritch monster covered in eyes, born-2024?!! Welcome back archivist🗣️I'm🗣️ so 🗣️happy omg

This is basically a more chaotic and colourful version of how I imagined him basically telling ink5oul to leave Gwen bbg alone🙏🏻 so that's kind of a following of my previous post kinda!! he protecc

Some variants :

I also have Instagram, my username is Drizium!!

[thirtysomethingloser92]

If you are still takin one shot prompts can you write something with Remy x female reader where they are always arguing but everyone knows they’re in love with each other except the two of them? With smut?

(Idk if u do kinks and feel free to ignore this bit if u don’t but if u do can you write in heavy praise kink?)

Love ur writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Warning: Contains Smut. I dunno how to feel about this one honestly, it was written in a haze of sleep deprivation and absence of coffee; but I still hope you enjoy!

The X-Mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon, a rare occurrence that most of the team appreciated. With no missions on the horizon and the younger students out on a field trip, the mansion basked in an almost eerie calm. That is, until Remy Lebeau strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune with his typical swagger, and found you rummaging through the fridge.

“Mon dieu, chérie, y’ coulda left me somethin’ to eat,” Remy drawled, leaning casually against the counter.

You didn’t even glance back at him, too focused on your hunt for leftovers. “If you weren’t always late, you’d have something left,” you shot back, finally pulling out a container of pasta. “Besides, you’re lucky I didn’t eat this too.”

He smirked, staring at you with those infuriatingly charming red-on-black eyes. “Lucky, huh? I’d call it somethin’ else, but I ain’t here to argue semantics.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh really? Because that’s all you seem to be good at.”

“Non, non, I’m good at plenty o’ things, chérie. You just never give me a chance t’ show you.” He winked, and you felt a familiar heat crawl up your neck—annoyance, definitely annoyance.

“You know what, Remy? You could charm the devil himself, but it won’t work on me,” you retorted, grabbing a fork and digging into the pasta defiantly.

“Is that a challenge, chérie?” Remy leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always made your heart skip a beat, not that you’d ever admit it.

“You wish,” you muttered around a mouthful of food.

Before he could reply, Storm walked into the kitchen, her eyes flicking between the two of you with an amused smile. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer. You and Remy had been at each other’s throats for years. From the moment you first joined the team, there was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was his cocky attitude, the way he sauntered into every room like he owned the place, or the way he always had some snarky comment ready no matter what you said. It didn’t help that he was infuriatingly charming, either—always ready with a flirtatious quip, especially when you were at your most exasperated.

But as the years went by, something shifted. What started as irritation evolved into something more complex, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was as if every argument, every sarcastic exchange, was building something between you—a tension that neither of you could deny, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

You’d find yourself lying awake at night, replaying your latest spat with him in your head, only to realize that you weren’t just angry—you were excited. You started to notice the way his eyes sparkled when he got under your skin, or how his voice softened ever so slightly when the banter got too heated. It was maddening, really, how much he affected you, and how you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him, even when you wanted nothing more than to forget he existed.

The worst part was, you knew he felt it too. You could see it in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or in the way he’d linger just a little too long in a room after everyone else had left, as if waiting for you to say something—anything—that might break the tension. And yet, you both kept dancing around it, neither one willing to be the first to admit that the fiery arguments weren’t just arguments anymore.

That morning in the kitchen was just the latest in a long string of these encounters. Five years of sniping at each other, of pretending that the growing heat between you was just frustration, not something deeper, something almost… intoxicating.

“Just tryin’ t’ get somethin’ t’ eat, Stormy,” Remy said with that familiar grin, leaning casually against the counter. You could feel the weight of his gaze even as you busied yourself with your breakfast, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up whenever he was near.

Storm raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. “And are you succeeding?”

“Not yet, but y’know, she likes t’ make it difficult,” he replied, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your pulse quickened. “If by ‘difficult’ you mean not letting you steal my food, then sure.”

Storm chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“We’re not the problem here,” you insisted, but even as you said it, you noticed the knowing look Storm gave Remy. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying this little game far too much.

“Whatever you say,” Storm replied, her tone light but her eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just... try not to burn the kitchen down, alright?” With that, she left the room, leaving you alone with Remy again.

“She’s got a point, y’know,” Remy said after a moment, his voice taking on that maddeningly smooth tone that always seemed to get under your skin. “We do seem t’ have a bit of a... fiery relationship.”

You glared at him, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected you. “Keep dreaming, Lebeau.”

“I don’t need t’ dream, chérie. I got all I need right here,” he replied, his voice softening in a way that made your stomach do flips.

And there it was again—those words that left you momentarily speechless, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t have a snappy comeback, which was rare. Instead, you just stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you.

Before you could decide, Jubilee burst into the kitchen, her usual energy crackling around her like static electricity. “Hey, have you guys seen—oh, never mind, found them!” she said, her eyes darting between you and Remy. “You two arguing again?”

“Not argu—“ you started, but Remy cut you off.

“Just a lil’ friendly banter,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Jubilee sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You two need to just kiss already and get it over with.”

You almost choked on your pasta, your eyes widening in shock. “What?!” you spluttered, while Remy just laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“See, even Jubilee agrees,” he teased, leaning in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady.

You pushed him away, your heart pounding in your chest. “In your dreams, Lebeau.”

“Maybe so, but y’know, dreams do come true sometimes,” he murmured, that infuriating grin still firmly in place. You wished you could wipe it off his face—preferably with your fist, but you knew that would probably just make him laugh harder.

Jubilee just rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your continued denial. “Whatever, keep denying it. But everyone knows you’re totally into each other.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Because the truth was, part of you already knew she was right. You’d been fighting it for years, but deep down, you couldn’t deny it any longer: you were falling for Remy LeBeau, and that scared you more than any mission or enemy ever could.

But if you were falling, you sure as hell weren’t going to let him know that. Not yet, anyway.

“Everyone’s wrong,” you snapped, but the words felt hollow even to you.

Remy just chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll see ‘bout that, chérie.”

As Jubilee left the kitchen, you found yourself alone with him again, and for once, the silence was more uncomfortable than the arguing. You could feel his gaze on you, and it made your skin tingle in a way that was more than just irritation. “No we won’t,” You said simply, turning on your heel and walking out.

The next morning, you were in the Danger Room, running through a solo training session. You needed to clear your head, to burn off the frustration that had been gnawing at you ever since that conversation with Remy. But as you moved through the simulation, dodging holographic enemies and firing off energy blasts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

“Y’know, chérie, y’coulda asked me t’ join,” a familiar voice drawled from the observation deck.

You gritted your teeth, not even pausing as you executed a perfect roundhouse kick to one of the holograms. “I don’t need your help, Remy,” you replied, your voice clipped.

“Didn’t say y’ did. Just thought y’ might enjoy some company,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“Well, I don’t,” you snapped, launching another energy blast that obliterated a row of targets. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped watching me.”

“Can’t help it, chérie. Y’ too fascinatin’ t’ ignore.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you muttered under your breath, but your focus slipped for just a second, and one of the holograms managed to get a hit in, knocking you off balance.

Before you could recover, Remy was beside you, his staff spinning in a blur as he took out the remaining enemies. “Y’ gotta keep your guard up, ma chère. Otherwise, y’ might get hurt.”

You pushed yourself to your feet, glaring at him. “I had it under control.”

“I’m sure y’ did,” he said, that damn smirk still on his face. “But it doesn’t hurt t’ have a lil’ backup.”

“I don’t need backup,” you snapped, brushing past him. “And I don’t need you butting in every time you think I’m struggling.”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout strugglin’?” Remy asked, following you as you stormed out of the Danger Room. “Just tryin’ t’ help.”

“Well, you’re not helping,” you shot back, rounding on him. “You’re just... you’re just being annoying!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst. “Annoyin’, huh? That’s a new one.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, annoying. You’re always there, always making these stupid comments, always... just always in my space!”

His grin widened. “Y’ don’t like me in your space, chérie?”

“No!” you snapped, but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, Remy being close to you made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that made your heart race and your thoughts scatter. And that scared you.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Remy said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to that low, smooth tone that always made your pulse quicken. “’Cause I like bein’ in your space.”

You took a step back, trying to create some distance between you. “Well, I don’t. So back off, Lebeau.”

He didn’t move, just watched you with that infuriatingly calm expression. “Y’ sure ‘bout that, chérie? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like y’ don’t mind it so much.”

Your jaw clenched, and you could feel your temper rising again. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But y’ like a challenge, don’t y’?”

You glared at him, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t a game, Remy. You can’t just... just flirt your way out of everything!”

“Who said I was flirtin’?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

You blinked, thrown off by the change in his demeanor. “What?”

“Maybe I’m just tryin’ t’ get t’ know y’ better, chérie. Maybe I’m tired o’ all the fightin’.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “You’re the one who always starts it!”

“Non, I just finish it,” he corrected, his voice softening. “But maybe it’s time we stop all this fightin’ and start talkin’.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Talking? About what?”

“About us,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. Us. You and Remy. It was something you’d never let yourself think about seriously, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t ignore it.

“Remy, I...” You trailed off, unsure of what to say, how to even begin to address the tangled mess of emotions this man stirred up in you.

But before you could figure it out, Remy took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Y’ don’t have t’ say anythin’, chérie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just... think ‘bout it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender, so unlike the usual banter between you, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll be waitin’,” he added, his breath warm against your skin, before he finally stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

As he turned and walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to do.

Because as much as you wanted to dismiss Remy’s words, as much as you wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, you couldn’t. Not anymore. Not after he’d so easily slipped past the walls you’d built around your heart.

And that scared you more than anything else.

The next few days were a blur of awkward encounters and tense silences. You avoided Remy as much as possible, but it seemed like the universe had other plans. No matter where you went, he was there—at breakfast, during training, in the hallways. And every time you saw him, you felt that same confusing mix of anger and something else, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

It was driving you insane.

Finally, after a particularly grueling Danger Room session, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stormed into the rec room, where Remy was lounging on the couch, casually shuffling a deck of cards. He looked up as you entered, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“Y’ look like y’ got somethin’ on your mind, chérie,” he said, setting the cards aside.

“You think?” you snapped, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve been driving me crazy, Remy!”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“How so?” you repeated incredulously, stopping to glare at him. “You’re always there, always saying these things, always... just always around! It’s like I can’t get away from you!”

Remy’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe that’s ‘cause I don’t want y’ t’ get away from me.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

“Y’ heard me,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m tired o’ playin’ games. Tired o’ pretendin’ like there ain’t somethin’ real between us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Remy, this is... I don’t even know what this is. We fight all the time. How could that be anything real?”

“’Cause fightin’ is better than nothin’,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’d rather argue with y’ every day than not have y’ in my life at all.”

The sincerity in his voice took your breath away. You’d always thought the arguments were just part of who you and Remy were, but now you were seeing them in a new light. Maybe the fighting wasn’t about hating each other. Maybe it was about caring too much.

But that realization only made things more complicated.

“Remy, I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can just... turn off the way I’ve always felt about you.”

“I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ turn anythin’ off,” he said gently. “Just askin’ y’ t’ let yourself feel whatever it is y’ been fightin’.” You shook your head, not daring to look away from him as he stepped closer to you, a small smirk crossing his face, “I don’t know how to,” You said simply. A laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah y’ do. Y’ know damn well how t’.” His eyes flickered to your lips, a silent ask of permission, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, standing on the edge of something neither of you fully understood. His presence was electric, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he closed the distance between you. The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible, and you found yourself caught between the urge to push him away and the undeniable pull that drew you closer.

There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a crack in the confident facade he usually wore so well. It was as if he was laying himself bare, offering you a glimpse into the parts of him that he kept hidden from everyone else. For once, there was no playful banter, no flirtatious remarks—just the raw, unfiltered truth of what he felt.

“Y’ don’ have t’ figure it all out right now,” Remy continued, his voice low and soothing. “We can take it slow, see where this goes. But I don’ wanna pretend like there’s nothin’ here when I know damn well there is. And I think y’ know it too.” You wanted to look away, to turn and run from the intensity of his gaze, but something kept you rooted in place. The way he was looking at you made it hard to breathe, like he could see right through the walls you’d spent so long building. It wasn’t just the fights or the tension between you; it was the fear of what lay beyond them—the fear of letting yourself feel too much, too deeply. Remy was chaos and comfort all wrapped into one, and admitting what he meant to you felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

You clenched your fists at your sides, the familiar rush of panic creeping in. “Remy, I don’t think you get it,” you said, your voice breaking. “If I admit it—if I admit what I feel—it means I’m giving up control. It means letting go of this idea that I can keep everything in a neat little box and pretend like it’s all fine.”

Your heart pounded as you continued, each word feeling like a risk. “And I’m not used to that. I’m not used to letting someone in, not like this. I’m scared that if I do, it’ll all go wrong. That one day you’ll just—”

“Walk away?” Remy finished softly, his eyes still locked on yours. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, chérie. I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ give up control. I’m just askin’ y’ t’ be honest with me. Honest with yourself.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost too much to bear. Every instinct told you to protect yourself, to guard your heart like you always had. But the way he was looking at you, the way his touch lingered on your skin—it made you want to believe that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do this alone.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself that caring was a weakness,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That showing you how much I care would give you power over me. And I can’t help but think... if I let myself feel this, it’s just going to hurt.”

Remy’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. “I ain’t here t’ hurt y’,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I’m here ‘cause I care about y’, and I want y’ t’ see that. I want y’ t’ know that all those arguments, all that pushin’ and pullin’—it ain’t ‘cause we hate each other.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. He believed in this—in whatever this was between you—and for the first time, you allowed yourself to consider that maybe, just maybe, it could be real.

Swallowing hard, you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Okay.”

The uncertainty still lingered, but as you stood there, holding onto him, you felt the first stirrings of hope. Maybe fighting wasn’t the opposite of love—maybe it was just another way of holding on when you didn’t know how to let go. And as Remy’s lips finally met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, you realized that some battles were worth fighting after all. As Remy’s lips brushed against yours, it was gentle at first, almost tentative, like he was giving you one last chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and let yourself sink into the kiss, something inside you snapped. All the tension, all the arguments, all the things you’d kept bottled up came rushing to the surface, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back with a desperation that surprised you both.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if you were afraid he might vanish if you let go. Remy responded in kind, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him with an intensity that made your heart race. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and you could feel the heat between you building with every passing second. His tongue teased against yours, and you let out a small, involuntary moan that made him grip you even tighter.

“Chérie,” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged with need. “Y’ sure about this?”

You nodded, barely able to find the words. “I need this. I need you.”

His eyes darkened, and he kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. You let yourself be swept away, losing yourself in the feel of him—his hands on your hips, his mouth trailing heated kisses down your neck, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Without breaking the kiss, Remy guided you backward, his hands never leaving your body. You stumbled slightly, your back hitting the wall with a soft thud, and Remy followed, pressing against you with a possessiveness that made your head spin. His mouth moved lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your throat, and you tilted your head back, giving him more access as your breathing became more erratic.

He slid one leg between yours, pressing against you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. You arched into him, your hands roaming his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. It wasn’t enough—you needed more, needed to feel his skin against yours, and your fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

Remy’s lips quirked into a brief, mischievous smile before he did the same for you, tugging your shirt up and over, his eyes darkening as they took in the sight of you. He paused, just for a second, his gaze meeting yours in a silent question, and when you nodded, he wasted no time. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every line, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingertips.

You shivered under his touch, your own hands exploring the expanse of his chest, the hard planes of his stomach, and the feel of his skin against yours sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore. You tugged him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, and he obliged, pressing against you so that there was no space left between your bodies.

Remy’s mouth found yours again, the kiss hungrier now, and he shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made you gasp. He swallowed the sound, his tongue delving deeper as his hands slid down to your hips, lifting you slightly so that your legs wrapped around his waist. The movement was smooth, almost effortless, and he held you there, pinned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Tell me what y’ want,” he breathed, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, your fingers threading through his hair as you tried to catch your breath. “I want you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “All of you.”

He grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes, and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, making you tremble. “Then y’ got me, chérie,” he said, his voice a husky promise against your skin. “Every last bit.”

“Been wantin’ this for a long time,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached up, brushing a hand along his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, the weight of the confession hanging between you. “More than you know.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile before he kissed you again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. The rest of the world faded away as you lost yourself in him, in the heat and the urgency and the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. Remy’s gaze was heavy, full of promises and unspoken desires as he moved away slightly, his breath warm against your skin. The air between you crackled with anticipation, each second stretching out like an eternity. His fingers traced a line along your side, his touch featherlight, sending a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension building as he let his hand drift lower, skimming over the curve of your waist and dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants.

Every touch felt like a question, a silent plea for permission, and you answered by arching into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders and down the length of his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin. He dipped his head, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless, and you lost yourself in the taste of him, the way his tongue tangled with yours in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new.

You let your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as you tugged him closer. He responded with a low growl, a sound that sent a rush of heat straight to your core, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his mouth moved to your neck, nipping and kissing along the sensitive skin. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under your clothes and pushing them aside as if they were nothing more than an obstacle keeping him from you.

“Y’ such a good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something deeper that made your heart race. His hands were everywhere, exploring, mapping every inch of you like he was committing you to memory, and you reveled in the way his touch set your skin on fire.

You arched beneath him, a moan escaping your lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the press of his body against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only two people in existence.

His hands moved lower, deftly unfastening your jeans and sliding them down your legs with a practiced ease that made your breath hitch. You helped him, kicking them off as he watched, his gaze hungry and appreciative. He made quick work of his own clothes, his movements hurried but careful, as if he couldn’t wait another second to have you but still wanted to savor every moment.

When he finally settled between your thighs, the feel of him grounding you, you let out a shaky breath. Remy paused, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took you by surprise. “We don’t have to rush, y’know,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “We got all night.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. “But I want to. I want you.”

The words seemed to light something inside him, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all heat and need. Remy pressed closer, his body aligned with yours as he deepened the kiss. The world around you faded into the background as the heat between you intensified. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers dancing along your skin, and a shiver of anticipation coursed through you. Remy’s low groan resonated between you, a sound that sent a rush of heat through your veins, pooling low in your belly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and smoldering, the flicker of desire mixed with that familiar, playful mischief that always kept you on your toes. It was a look that promised so much more than words ever could, and your heart raced at the thought of what was to come.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, dripping with that smooth Cajun drawl that always made your knees weak. There was a teasing edge to his tone, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched your reaction.

You couldn’t help but smirk back, feeling bold under his intense gaze. “I guess I can’t resist that Cajun charm after all,” you quipped, your breath hitching as his hand continued its slow, deliberate journey up your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

His chuckle was deep, resonating from his chest in a way that made your pulse quicken. The sound was warm and intimate, like he was letting you in on a secret only the two of you shared. “Good thing I’ve got plenty to spare,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver straight to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, claiming you in a kiss that was hungrier, more insistent. It was as if he couldn’t get enough, the taste of you driving him wild as his hand slid higher, exploring with a mix of confidence and reverence that made your body arch toward him. He pulled you closer, his tongue sweeping against yours, and you let out a soft whimper that only seemed to spur him on.

His touch was electric, a perfect mix of rough and gentle that had you gasping against his mouth. When his hand finally reached its destination, you could feel the heat of his palm pressing against your most sensitive spot, and you shuddered at the contact, a breathy curse escaping his lips against your mouth. The sound of it—the raw need in his voice—sent a thrill through you, and you knew just how much he wanted you, how close he was to losing control.

“Mon dieu,” Remy breathed, his accent thickening as his fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing and testing your resolve. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and uneven as he watched your expression shift with each calculated touch. “Y’ feel so good, chérie. Been dreamin’ ‘bout this.”

You bit your lip, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself against the wave of sensation crashing over you. “Keep talking like that,” you managed, your voice trembling with barely restrained desire, “and I might just lose my mind.”

Remy grinned, his thumb circling with maddening precision, coaxing a low moan from your throat. “Well, ain’t that the point?” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His hand worked skillfully, each movement deliberate, like he was savoring the way your body responded to him. The tension built steadily, your breaths mingling as you both lost yourselves in the rhythm, the dance of push and pull that you’d been perfecting for what felt like forever.

The anticipation was maddening, the way he hovered on the edge, drawing out every little gasp and shiver, every whispered plea that slipped past your lips. He was relentless, his touch both gentle and commanding, as if he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, that the tension might break you, Remy leaned in, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

“Tell me what y’ want, chérie,” he murmured, his tone dripping with desire and a hint of challenge. His thumb pressed down just a little harder, and you felt the world tilt, your breath catching in your throat. “I wanna hear y’ say it.”

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with want as you finally gave in, letting the last of your restraint slip away. “I want you, Remy,” you confessed, your voice raw and unguarded. “I want everything.”

His response was immediate, a soft groan escaping him as he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, the full weight of his need crashing into you like a tidal wave. And in that moment, with his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony, you knew you were lost to him, lost to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together time and time again. You weren’t fighting anymore; you were falling—fast and hard—and this time, you didn’t want to stop.

With a surge of boldness, you let one hand drift down his chest, tracing the lines of his toned abdomen before reaching lower. You felt him tense at your touch, and he broke the kiss with a moan.

You melted into his touch as his fingers explored every inch of your heat, teasing and tantalizing until you were dripping with need. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure consumed your senses.

Needing more than just his touch on the outside of your panties separating him from where he longed to be; Remy’s fingers slipped past the fabric effortlessly; sending shivers coursing through your body. He growled at the feel of how wet and ready you were for him. His thumb found its way to your clit circling it slowly driving waves after waves of ecstasy. In between moans, you managed to slide down Remy’s briefs freeing an erection throbbing so hard it wanted nothing more than bury itself within your warmth without any other obstacles.

His fingers kept their steady rhythm inside of you bringing you closer to the edge with every passing second, each deliberate thrust like a promise of what was yet to come.

With a gasp that turned into a low moan, you tightened around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. He watched every blissful moment, his eyes full of admiration and lust; before he withdrew his hand and placed it behind one of your thighs lifting it slightly in a silent request, “Good girl,” He whispered, his forehead resting on your own. You gladly obliged, wrapping your leg around his waist and pulling him impossibly closer.

Remy positioned himself at your entrance, his tip teasingly grazing your folds. He locked eyes with you, seeking permission, and you nodded, desperate for him to fill the ache inside of you. With agonizing slowness, he pushed forward, inch by glorious inch, until he was buried deep within your heat. A symphony of sighs and groans spilled from both of your lips as he stretched you deliciously.

“Fuck,” Remy muttered through gritted teeth. “Y’ feel s’ good.”

You echoed his sentiment with a breathy moan as he began to move. Each thrust was a perfect blend of passion and restraint, hitting all the right spots and driving you higher with every stroke. The world around you faded away until it was just the two of you, lost in the rhythm of each other’s bodies.

His hips rocked against yours in a deliciously torturous tempo that had your head spinning. He held onto your hip tightly guiding himself deeper. Without warning, you moved one of your hands, moving its way up and down his chest until it reached its final goal. Softly grasping one nipple between thumb and index finger before applying more pressure, tugging it as you felt another low growl rumble through his chest.

“Merde,” he hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration lacing his voice.

Feeling the effect you had on him only spurred you on, and your hand trailed lower, gripping his ass tightly and pulling him impossibly closer. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the air along with your combined moans, driving the passion between you to new heights.

Beads of sweat rolled down your bodies as the temperature rose with every stroke. Your senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the delicious friction that threatened to send you both hurtling over the edge.

Then, with a primal groan that could have set fire to a room, Remy came undone; his whole body trembling as he spilled himself inside of you. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he rode out his release; whispering incoherent words in French that made heat pool between your thighs. His orgasm triggered yours too, waves after waves crashing through your body leaving in their wake nothing but pure bliss.

You clung to each other as reality slowly seeped back in, your breaths ragged and hearts pounding. Remy pressed soft kisses along your shoulder, struggling slightly to maintain balance but never separating from within. He eventually pulled out, cupping your face gently and capturing your lips in a tender kiss full of unspoken promises.

Remy gently placed you down, a soft exhale escaping your lips. Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of what had just transpired, a mix of lingering heat and a deep, unexpected tenderness that left you feeling both exhilarated and vulnerable. You watched as Remy reached for the clothes you passed to him, a simple gesture that felt strangely intimate—more so than anything else that had just happened between you.

There was a flutter in your chest, a complicated tangle of emotions that you couldn't quite sort through: the satisfaction of closeness, the warmth of his touch, but also the creeping uncertainty that always seemed to follow moments like this. You wanted to savor the way his fingers brushed against yours when he took the clothes, the unspoken connection that made your pulse quicken despite the calming aftermath. But beneath that was the faint whisper of doubt, the question of what this all meant, and where it would leave the both of you when the morning came.

You studied Remy as he pulled on his shirt, his movements unhurried and almost thoughtful, as if he was taking his time not just with the task but with the moment itself. He glanced up at you, catching your eye with that familiar, roguish smile that always seemed to know more than it let on. It was a smile that made your heart skip a beat, because it was impossible not to be drawn in by it—by him. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, if his mind was as clouded with thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'where do we go from heres.'

The air between you was charged with unspoken words, the room thick with the weight of shared breaths and the faint scent of him lingering on your skin. There was a comfort in it, an aching sweetness in the quiet that stretched between you, but also a nagging fear of missteps and misunderstandings that seemed to lurk just outside the glow of the moment. You found yourself caught in the delicate balance between wanting to keep things light, easy, as they'd always been, and the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and make this real, to solidify the intangible connection that pulsed between you.

As Remy pulled on his pants, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze softened when it landed on you, a subtle shift that made your breath hitch. It was as if he could see straight through the walls you’d built, right into the heart of your hesitation and hope. It unnerved you how easily he seemed to read you, how effortlessly he could make you feel seen without even trying. And maybe that was the scariest part of all—how much you wanted to be seen, to be known, even when it felt risky, even when it meant opening up to the possibility of more.

You pulled your own clothes closer, the fabric cool against your still-warm skin, and took a moment to steady your breathing. The urge to say something—anything—bubbled up inside you, but the words seemed to tangle on your tongue. What do you say when everything feels like it's teetering on the edge of changing forever? When you're caught between the safety of what you know and the terrifying promise of what could be?

Remy caught the hesitation in your eyes and paused, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Y’ good, chérie?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the playful banter you were used to; it was sincere, almost vulnerable, like he was reaching out to you in a way that went beyond words.

You nodded, but the truth was, you weren’t sure. Your feelings for him were a messy, beautiful tangle of affection and desire, friendship and something more profound that you were still too scared to name. It was overwhelming, this rush of emotions that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. But as you looked into Remy’s eyes, that familiar spark of mischief mixed with something deeper, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to take the leap.

"Well, someone looks pretty pleased with himself," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Remy chuckled, turning to face you with that infuriatingly charming smile. "Can’t help it, chérie. I aim t' please, and from th’ look on y’ face, I’d say I hit th’ mark."

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, Lebeau."

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who, me? Naw, chérie, m’ ego’s jus’ fine right where it is." His hand drifted lazily to trace patterns on your arm, his touch light and absent-minded. "’Sides, y’ didn’t seem t’ mind a bit of that charm earlier."

“Don’t push it,” you warned playfully, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

“Too late,” he quipped, his grin widening. “Y’ already all tangled up in it.”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling up as you pulled your jumper on, "I can’t believe I put up with you," you sighed dramatically.

Remy’s laughter rumbled through him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “’Cause y’ love m’ charm, chérie. An’ y’ love me, too, even when y’ won’t admit it.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "You know, you’re lucky you’re good at this, otherwise you’d be out of here so fast."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Lucky f’ both of us, then."

You swatted at him, but your laughter spilled over, mingling with his. It was moments like these—caught between playfulness and something deeper—that made everything else feel worth it.

[pezpenser205]

people do not get sebastian solace like i do fr. that is a sleep deprived middle aged man with severe trust issues whose fight or flight response is always turned up to 100% from years of being poked at. he would NOT date you or actively be friends with you im sorry. his ass will be frenemies with you at BEST. stop mischaracterizing him and taking away his cunty nature and cptsd swagger you are BUTCHERING HIM!!! HES A BIT OF AN ASSHOLE!!! HE FEELS BAD FOR YOU A BIT BUT HE FUNDAMENTALLY DOES NOT AND WILL NOT TRUST YOU (FOR GOOD REASON)!!! the badge for meeting him is "uneasy alliance" how much more clear could the "he will drop kick you and throw you into the sun if you fuck with him even a little bit" part of his character be. hes like an abused shelter cat bro youd have to put him through an entire domestication arc first before you could even consider yourself decently acquainted with him.

[realityjoey]

ANDERSON TAKEOVER (RILEY ANDERSON MC x EVAN BUCKLEY)

Buck and Riley dragged themselves into the 118 station, each holding a kid by the hand and one clinging to their legs. The weight of exhaustion clung to both of them like a second skin. Neither of them had slept properly in days, and it was beginning to show: Buck’s usual swagger had been replaced by shuffling steps, and Riley looked like she might fall asleep standing up.

“Alright, everyone out of the truck,” Buck groaned, gently prying Lily off his leg.

Lily, bright-eyed and full of energy despite the early hour, scampered ahead, tugging Miles along with her. Ollie trailed behind, his hoodie pulled up over his messy hair in a half-hearted attempt to look indifferent, though the excitement of being at the station was written all over his face.

Riley rubbed her temples. “We should’ve called out. I can’t believe we’re bringing the kids to work.”

“Hey, we tried every babysitter we know. Desperate times,” Buck replied, slinging an arm around her shoulder and kissing her temple. “They love it here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Riley shot him a look that said, Don’t tempt fate.

As soon as they entered the station, the rest of the team clocked them immediately—exhaustion radiating from every inch of their bodies. Bobby noticed the dark circles under Buck’s eyes and the sluggish way Riley moved, the normally sharp and vibrant woman clearly running on fumes.

“Rough night?” Hen asked, arching an eyebrow as she took in the sight of the trio of kids, who were already poking around the kitchen area.

“Rough week,” Riley sighed, collapsing against the nearest wall. “I swear, these kids don’t sleep. They just… regenerate.”

“We’re drowning,” Buck admitted, running a hand down his face. “We just need, like, five minutes to breathe.”

Bobby gave them a fatherly look, one that was both stern and compassionate. “Sit. On the couch. Now.”

“Bobby—” Riley started to protest, but he shook his head.

“No arguments,” Bobby insisted, already moving toward the kids to intercept Lily, who was attempting to climb the pole in the corner of the station.

“Team, we’re on babysitting duty,” Bobby announced to the others. “Buck, Riley—take a seat. We’ve got this.”

Buck opened his mouth to argue, but Hen gave him a warning glance. “Unless you want us to tie you to the couch, sit.”

Too tired to fight, Buck took Riley’s hand and led her to the couch in the common area. As soon as they sat down, Riley leaned into him, and Buck instinctively wrapped his arms around her. They both exhaled deeply, their bodies sagging against each other.

Within minutes, they were out like lights—cuddled up, legs tangled, heads pressed close. Buck’s steady breathing matched Riley’s as they finally gave in to the sleep they’d been deprived of for far too long.

Bobby quietly grabbed a blanket and draped it over the pair, exchanging a knowing look with Hen. “Let them sleep,” he whispered.

Meanwhile, chaos was brewing across the station. Lily had discovered the collection of helmets and decided everyone—including herself—needed to try one on.

“Look, Uncle Chim!” she giggled, a helmet far too big for her wobbling on her head as she toddled toward Chimney.

Chimney crouched down to her level, adjusting the helmet so it didn’t swallow her whole. “Perfect fit, kiddo. You could join the squad.”

Ollie, trying hard to maintain his cool facade, found himself getting drawn into Eddie’s “training lesson” on how to operate the fire truck. Eddie showed him how to flick some switches, which Ollie pretended to be disinterested in—but the grin sneaking across his face gave him away.

“Think I could drive it?” Ollie asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Sure,” Eddie teased. “Right after you turn eighteen and pass your driving test.”

Nearby, Miles was engaged in a full-on interrogation with Hen about every aspect of firefighting. “But what if you’re in a building and it’s really on fire? Do you ever get scared?”

Hen smiled, ruffling his hair. “Of course we do, kid. But that’s why we have each other. We’re a team.”

Miles mulled that over, nodding solemnly. “Like Buck and Riley.”

“Exactly like Buck and Riley,” Hen agreed.

The kids kept themselves entertained, with Lily assigning herself as “chief” of the station and giving out pretend orders. “Everyone! To the fire truck! There’s a dragon to fight!”

Chimney, never one to pass up a bit of fun, dramatically grabbed his radio. “Attention, team! This is Chief Lily. We’ve got a dragon situation!”

Hen, Eddie, and even Bobby joined in the game, following Lily to the fire truck while Miles scrambled onto the driver’s seat, shouting instructions to his imaginary crew. Ollie leaned against the wall, pretending to be too cool for the game—but he didn’t protest when Eddie roped him in to be the “lookout.”

“Alright, Ollie, if you see any dragons, yell,” Eddie said, nudging him playfully.

Ollie smirked. “What if it’s just Buck snoring?”

“Then we’re definitely in trouble,” Chimney quipped, making the others laugh.

Back in the common room, Buck and Riley remained fast asleep, tangled in each other and completely oblivious to the controlled chaos happening just a few feet away. Riley had tucked her face into Buck’s neck, her breath warm against his skin. Buck, in turn, had one arm wrapped protectively around her waist, the other tucked under his head.

“They look like they haven’t slept in a year,” Hen whispered to Bobby as they checked in on the sleeping couple.

“They probably haven’t,” Bobby murmured with a small smile. “Let’s give them a couple more hours.”

Eventually, the kids wound down—mostly thanks to the impromptu dragon hunt leaving them tuckered out. Lily curled up in one of the chairs, sucking her thumb, while Miles rested his head on Hen’s lap, blinking sleepily. Ollie leaned against Eddie, pretending not to be tired, but his eyes kept drifting shut.

Bobby gave the team a nod, and everyone moved around quietly, letting the peaceful moment settle over them.

As the shift wore on, Buck and Riley remained blissfully asleep on the couch, lost in each other and finally catching up on some much-needed rest. The kids were happy, the station was calm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was… okay.

And when Buck and Riley finally woke up—groggy but more rested than they had been in days—they found themselves greeted by the sight of their kids dozing around the station, with the rest of the 118 keeping careful watch.

Riley smiled, leaning into Buck’s side. “Think we found ourselves some babysitters.”

Buck chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. “Yeah… I think we did.”

[thefatartist]

Darcie and the Gym Rats: CHAPTER ONE

Nestled within her pillow fort on the cozy expanse of the couch, Darci found herself in a familiar ritual, her gaze fixed on the illuminated lock screen of her phone. Each passing second was pregnant with anticipation, awaiting that gratifying ping of a notification. Yet, as the alerts materialized one after another, most failed to capture her interest, swiftly swiped away with a casual flick of her finger. They barely earned more than a fleeting moment of Darci's attention before being consigned to digital oblivion.

In this digital landscape, only notifications bearing the insignia of Instagram stood a chance to disrupt Darci's nonchalant dismissal. It wasn't that she harbored an addiction to the platform, she reasoned, she could easily break free whenever she pleased. But today wasn't the day for such resolutions. Today, Instagram held sway over her attention, a tantalizing oasis in the desert of mundane notifications.

The tranquil hush of the living room was brutally shattered by the forceful swing of the door. In stepped Jessica, a whirlwind of energy and unmistakable gym dedication. Among the trio of roommates, Darci stood as the sole advocate of a hedonistic lifestyle, her mission clear: to lure her companions to the enticing depths of pleasure, excitement  and indulgence. Jessica, with her characteristic grace, slinked over to the couch, collapsing beside the meticulously arranged "meal" that had been left untouched on the coffee table, a testament to Jessa's culinary efforts. Her gaze darted between the abandoned chocolate wrappers and the inviting warmth of the chicken salad.

"I can't fathom why I bother preparing food for you, only for you to disregard it in favor of..." Jessica's accusatory stare flitted to a suspiciously empty glass bowl perched innocently on the kitchen counter. Jessa’s jaw clenched, "...raiding the entire communal candy bowl?! Darci, that was meant for all of us!" Jessica let out a deep growl, like a dog being deprived of her food bowl by a stranger.

Darci's arm emerged from the confines of her plush pillow fort, dismantling her makeshift kingdom with a casual wave. "The rest of the community was busy battling the Iron Legion of Dumbbells and Broken Dreams," she declared with a scoff. "You snooze, you lose dearie."

Jessica, undeterred, lifted the fork from the salad bowl, its prongs laden with lettuce dripping in ranch dressing. "Why must you drown perfectly good chicken salad in ranch?" she lamented. "Can't you show some respect and at least drown my salad in Thousand Island?"

"Can't you refrain from commenting on how I choke down your rabbit food?" Darcie retorted.

Jessa's eyes rolled so far back into her head that they nearly disappeared, just as the door creaked open once more. Chad swaggered in oozing confidence. "Sup, Protein Princess and Sleeping Drooly…"

"Watch it, Chad, or I'll turn your Prince Charming into Miss Charming!" Darci warned, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Chad was preparing a sarcastic retort before he saw the salad Jessica was eating. “Aw c’mon Jess! Even an Adonis like me needs a cheat day sometimes!” Chad whined.

Jess snapped back “This ‘rabbit food’, as Darcie so delicately put it… “. Chad snickered and Jessa’s voice responded “…It's a carefully planned, macro-balanced...”.

Darcie interrupted “...recipe for utter boredom. Look, why don't we ditch the rabbit food and order some actual food for once? Pizza, maybe? I hear there's this place with a triple-decker meat lover's special...”.

Jess shrieked in horror “Triple-decker? Darcie are you trying to clog my arteries?”. Darci’s eyebrow furrowed “You're already halfway there with your sad little salads. Besides, a little indulgence never killed anyone.” Darci’s familiar ADHD brain sprang into action after having clearly had too much sugar “Except maybe that guy who ate a bathtub full of Jell-O. But that was clearly a personal failing.”

Darcie would have continued if Jessica had let her. Still upset that her chocolate reward went to first place unexpectedly, she snapped fingers at Darcie. “Earth to Darcie…”. Darcie blinked. “Yes?”. Jessica, torn between the siren call of pizza and the guilt ingrained in her by years of calorie counting couldn’t finish her sentence. Chad, meanwhile, dialed the pizza place on his phone, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. Jessca whispered to herself, “One slice won't hurt. Just one. To appease the carb demons and quiet your... unsettling enthusiasm.”

Darcie leaned in close to Jess. “Oh, honey, I was just getting warmed up. We could raid that bakery down the street for dessert. They have this éclair that looks like a goth's dream come true - black chocolate and raspberry filling. Pure decadence.”

“Maybe just a small cookie?” Jessica gulped.

Chad piped up “Ignore them, Jess. They're just jealous. Double pepperoni for you, right?” Jessica looked at Chad, a feeling of defeat swept over her. “This is a slippery slope”. “Don't worry, darling.” Darcie assured Jess, “We'll hold your hand all the way down. Now, about that éclair...?”

Chad’s phone, on speaker, rang. One last glimmer of defiance died in Jess’s eyes. “You know what? Screw the macros. Let's do this. But I'm picking the toppings”. Chad jumped in, “Deal! Now, who wants extra cheese?”.

Darcie released a single, solitary laugh. What was this feeling; ‘happiness’? Less painful than Darcie imagined. Jess and Chad barely had time to respond before the voice on the other end answered. “Thank you for calling ‘Papa Tony’s Pizza’.

“Yeah, hi!”, Chad coughed “I was told you had a triple-decker meat lover's special…?”.

******

            The smell of the kitchen flowed like a river against Darcie’s nose. “Oh, come on”, she grumbled “I’m hungry!”. Jessica’s mind flowed with hurtful comments. She was still very upset about her chocolate, or rather lack thereof. She bit her tongue. There was no need to upset the peace in the apartment. Maybe she’d eat Darcie’s second dessert. That’d teach her. Before she could think about Darcie’s reaction to such meanness, the waiter approached with their dinner. The thick, juicy pizza was left on the table and the waiter departed with instructions to retrieve another cup of root-beer for Darcie. The three roommates continued looking at their phones, Jess taking selfies, Chad chuckling at memes and Darcie flicking away notifications between testing to see if the pizza cooled down enough.

            “Pizza’s cool” Darcie announced happily as she scooped three slices onto her plate. She delicately lifted the pizza to her lips and nibbled a bite before taking a much larger one that filled her mouth. “This is actually decent!” Darcie smiled, “Not bad for a place catering to the... unrefined palate.” Darcie shot a playful glance in Chad’s direction as he placed a couple of slices onto his plate. Jessica took the pizza scoop from Chad and got herself a single slice. She chuckled as she stared at the thick, layered pizza. She took a small bite, the melted cheese holding on for dear life to the pizza.

“You know, this isn't so bad. Maybe, a little indulgence every now and then isn't the worst thing in the world”, Jessica admitted. A grin grew across Darcie’s face as she wiped away some grease that dripped from her mouth. “I told you!”, she celebrated. Chad smiled and took another bite from his pizza. “Anyone down for some garlic knots?” Darcie raised an eyebrow, “Garlic knots? That sounds positively pedestrian.”

Chad, almost insulted, responded “What’s wrong with garlic knots?”. Darcie’s wide eyes squinted as her toothy smile grew. Chad never saw Darcie smile like this. It made him almost uncomfortable. “Oh, they're delicious alright. But have you considered... black garlic knots?”, Darcie asked, “Made with squid ink, of course.” The look of disgust grew in Chad’s eyes, but the subtle tilt of his head suggested interest. Jessica, however, was fully intrigued. “Where do they even have those?!”, she asked. Darcie winked. “I have my sources.”

[tedcicle]

swagger doing his hit on mika while sleep deprived are watching questionable overwatch content is really fucking funny

[purpledisastertwin900]

I’m not dead!! :D

Here’s what I’ve been up to instead of posting on either of my blogs! (Aside from quick rebloging everything under the sun)

- started my second year of college working on my AAS - (associated in applied sciences with an emphasis in fashion design)

- won a style competition, dropped out of another

- got a nose piercing

- New Gender acquired: ???

- found an Amtguard park and started LARPing!! It’s so much fun- I’m a level two bard babyyy and I already have garb and I’m basically a master at weaving macrame belts (ask me ooh you wanna ask-)

- hiked seven miles in a day (farthest I’ve ever hiked) (no prep) (I didn’t know I was going to be hiking that day)

- got hired as a writing tutor at my college! (Haven’t started working yet bc hiring bugs but I will hopefully soon!)

- continued to babysit as a job

- bought a midi drum set and began learning drums! This was really cool because I’ve always wanted to learn drums

- became a stoner (the gummy user subspecies)

- discovered the joy of creating OCs (please please please please ask me about my ocs you wanna so bad-)

- also cut my hair I got that disheveled sleep deprived boy swagger

- downloaded then immediately deleted hinge

- sort of got back into iPhone photography again

- got better at pottery!

- started using public transit

- donated a bunch of clothes and began building a new wardrobe

- discovered Epic the Musical I’m UNWELLLL

[daturas-are-pretty]

BSD Fake Quotes

Chuuya: How'd you get in here?

Dazai: Oh, it was easy. I just seduced an old lady upstairs, came down the fire escape, jimmied the window open...

Chuuya:

Chuuya: You could've just

Chuuya: called me.

Dazai: I didn't kill the lady upstairs, if that's what you're worried about.

Chuuya: I wasn't. But now I am.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai: Ugh, I should've known we'd lose Chuuya. He's so pocket-sized, he could be hidden anywhere!

~~~~~~~~~~

[Everyone decked out in Kunikida's clothes to act as doppelgängers for a case specifically targeting him, unbeknownst to Kunikida.]

[It was Dazai's idea.]

Dazai: Anyone else feeling the urge to lecture themselves? (Mimicking Kunikida) "Dazai, what the hell are you doing"?

Kunikida, from behind him: Dazai, what the hell are you doing?

~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai: [After giving Atsushi advice] You can power through this because you are the strongest person I know.

… Wow, that was weird, I just said a bunch of real things consecutively. [Turns to Kunikida] Are you proud of me?

Kunikida: You're ruining it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida: How'd you manage to steal the case file from government police?

Dazai: Easy. The sergeant manning the desk by the files was a lady, so I just turned up some of that old Dazai charm ~

[What actually happened:]

Dazai swaggering into the file room: Hey there. (In a low seductive voice) Some dude yarfed in the men's restroom. Could you please find somebody to, uh, clean that up?

The sergeant lady: Ugh. (Gets up from her desk)

-

Dazai: There was no yarf.

Kunikida: Yeah, I figured.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida: All our contacts are dead. This case is 11 years old, I doubt anyone remembers anything. Maybe we should -

Atsushi: Climb out onto that ledge to see how the perp got in?

Kunikida: I was going to say give up.

Atsushi: I think we should give it a go! Who knows? We might uncover new leads!

Kunikida: Atsushi, we're ten stories up.

Atsushi: Kunikida-san, I'm not afraid of heights. I'm scared of bees, I'm scared of snakes, I'm scared of being locked in a supply closet for long enough that I start seeing eyes manifest in their dark corners, but I'm not scared of heights!

[Two minutes later out on the ledge]

Atsushi: WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'REGONNADIEWE'REGONNADIEWE'RE -

~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida: Why are you of all people so hellbent on solving a case that nobody's even bothering to solve? It's been dead for years.

Dazai, for once fixated on his computer and surrounded by milk cartons and half-eaten bananas with their peels still on: Kunikida-kun, I am way too sleep-deprived to deal with your negativity right now.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai: I stayed up all night going through the crimes that happened from 1996 up till now to look for a pattern. That led me to this.

(Chair-wheelies his way to a board with a map of Yokohama studded with push pins, all random colors)

My conclusion? There is a lot of crime in Yokohama. No-one should live here.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 19 - Bite Night

Astarion spills a little secret.

On AO3.

Astarion lurches back and onto his feet. Says something you can’t understand because you are rationing your last dirt potion. But this seems pretty goddamn important, so you reach for your bag without breaking eye contact. His gaze follows your hands, and even in the dim light from a dying campfire, you can tell his whole frame tenses. And then sags—less than an inch—when you pull out the potion bottle and unstopper it with your teeth.

Still tastes like ass.

“What the fuck,” you say.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Astarion says. He’s back up another three paces or so, hands still held up.

It looks like a man looming over you with his mouth fucking open. Are bath salts a thing here? Is he some kind of serial killer?

“What’s it look like?” you say.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you!”

“So, what, you just spend your nights breathing on us while we all sleep?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” His usual smirk and swagger are gone. They’ve left someone with his ridiculous, poofy hair and the frilly ass shirt and the scaredest aura you’ve seen in a long, long while. When you don’t scream or try to kick him—his eyes track to your hands again—he continues. Winces. “I just needed a little, well, blood?”

You’re not sure that translates correctly. Then you’re not sure you heard it correctly. Because it makes no damn sense. Not at all. Gale is the cook, and you’ve never seen Astarion fucking around with potions—you’ve never seen Gale fucking around with blood in his potion brewing, but you brain makes that jump anyhow.

“Why?” you drawl.

He blinks at you. Seems a little taken aback, almost sheepish. Both at himself, and at you, for some reason.

His gaze darts behind you, to the rest of the sleeping party. He swallows visibly. “I…might have neglected to mention something about me. Not anything momentous! It’s just well, I might happen to be a…what’s the best way to put this. A vampire! Haha!”

The laugh comes out as this bright, theatrical giggle. Dude might as well be flashing jazz hands to go with it.

A vampire. Like…like fucking dracula? If it translated correctly. If your brain hasn’t started bleeding in your sleep as the worm hits some vital artery and this is the last, bizarre hurrah delusion as your cerebral tissues wither and die of oxygen deprivation.

“A vampire,” you say to see if it sounds like bullshit out loud and yep, sure does.

“Yes.” He still wears that fake smile. One that morphs as you watch. Twists into nervousness. “I’m not some monster, though. I feed on animals: boars, deer, kobolds. Whatever I can get. I’m…just too slow right now. Too weak.”

Boars. Like the one y’all found on the road two days ago. The one he just left there for anyone to see.

…you could have sworn he was smart. He couldn’t come up with half the shit he’s said to you without a touch of clever. But that seems so…amateur hour.

Then again, you come from a world with fifty-seven new murder podcasts a week, so there’s that.

“So like, ‘drink the blood of the innocent’, honest-to-god actual vampire,” you say. “That’s a fucking thing that exists here?”

“Gods have very little to do with it. Do you not have vampires in your realm?”

“No. Not, I mean. There’s people who call themselves that? But they just dye their hair and wear dramatic makeup and I think some of them actually do lick each others’ blood, but that’s how you catch hepatitis, so…”

It’s his turn to stare all baffled at you. He starts to open his mouth.

“They’re not like,” you say and gesture to him. “They’re just pretending.”

Red eyes and pale skin. You’d thought he was albino. Some kind of fantasy albino that could bask under the sun, because this is a whole different plane of existence and what the fuck do you know?

Looking now, he’s not the same type of pale, though. He’s more corpse-pale. And in the low firelight, as he’d loomed over you, you had spotted, you realize, a set of fangs he’s until now kept hidden.

Man is a fucking vampire.

“But you know what that is?” he says. “What I am?”

He keeps checking behind you. He was on first watch (…that explains so much right now; he always took first watch). Considering he’s kept the entire thing hidden until you caught him, you know, with his fangs over your neck, and considering the way his body language screams, you’re guessing he expects a strong, negative reaction.

“Maybe we should talk about this closer to your tent?” you say. “Y’know, out of earshot?”

It’s the second time he’s ever dropped his “smug bastard” look in surprise. At least that you’ve seen. His mouth even flaps a couple of times before he recovers and slides the Goblin Man persona back on.

“Yes, of course,” he says, sweeps one arm out to indicate “after you.” Seems to consider how vulnerable this leaves you and he sort of freezes. Must not like the idea of you at his back, either.

Well. He’s had plenty of time to slit your throat since you met. And he rolled back when you woke up, instead of lunging and pinning you and ripping your throat like some 30 Days of Night motherfucker.

You climb to your feet (fuck fuck! The burn! Why does your fucking scalp hurt??) and stagger past him like an arthritic grandma.

His footsteps follow a second later. You hear footsteps, which means he wants you to, so that’s likely a good sign?

You stop next to his tent, just at the edge of the dim glow of the embers, and give him the best look-over you can manage in the gloom.

“My people got all kinds of stories about vampires,” you say. “But they’re just stories, and a lot of them don’t match each other. I been saying we don’t have monsters or magic or all that. Just humans and other animals.”

“No monsters? At all?” he says. “How…quaint.”

“None,” you say. “So you’re gonna have to explain to me what this all means, and I’m gonna ask around later to make sure it all checks out.”

“Ask?” His voice goes hard and his entire frame snaps into harsh angles.

“Gale. About history. Monsters and such. I don’t know shit and everyone knows it. No one’ll find that weird.”

He watches you for a breath. Two. The muscles of his jaw work. Then he sighs all harsh through his nose. “I suppose that’s to be expected. Fine.”

And he explains. A “vampire spawn”, not a “real” vampire. Some fuckface named Cazador. He gives no details about his life, no emotions, only what you might call a wikipedia summary of what, exactly he is. But you can imagine a lot of horror around the words “puppet” and “slave.” You can imagine a lot.

“We’ll be in the swamp tomorrow to ambush this meeting you’re so curious about,” he says, moving on like he didn’t toss a psychological grenade into your lap. “If I need to fight, I need to get my strength up. And, well. I’m too slow to hunt at the moment. One too many ambushes, lately.”

“How often do you need, um, blood?”

“Oh, most days animals are just fine. I hunt most nights, but I can go much longer in between, if I need to.”

The tadpole shivers in your brain. You flinch, and notice Astarion do the same. It’s trying to mind whammy y’all. The connection flows between you, and you catch a sliver of cracked and quivering memories, of—

no no NO.

Of fear.

You slam it shut so hard the both of you stumble.

Fear. No.

Terror. The man is scared absolutely shitless right now. And he can go longer in between meals the way a human can technically survive a few days without water. You’d felt starvation chewing through his gut, an icy thing made of teeth chewing, chewing, chewing at him.

“Fuck!” you say and clamp a hand over your mouth.

None of the others stirs.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whisper shout. You’d felt it for less than a second and it had damn near turned your brains to scrambled eggs. You’re not even sure how the man is capable of standing upright, let alone using facial expressions and gesticulating.

A snarl tugs at his lips, even as his facial muscles twitch and you watch in real time as he smooths his expression out into a pleasant neutrality.

Motherfucker. This, he…this is so fucked up.

“At best I was sure you’d say no,” he says. “More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.

You’ve demonstrated to god and country tonight that you literally do not possess the upper body strength to pull that off. Nor do you have a stake (he’d been watching your hands so carefully).

“No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

“You put a knife to my throat the first time you saw me,” you say.

His smarm bleeds over him like a drop of water touched to a smear of paint. “Well, darling, it was quite a day. I’d been abducted and infected once already. I’m sure you can appreciate having a healthy amount of caution.”

He’s not wrong. If you’d found any weapons on the butthole ship, you probably would have pointed one right back at him. Had he not tackled you to the ground, anyway.

It was a fucking day.

You glance back to the others. Gale curled on his side with his toes peeking out. Shadowheart bundled into a ball with only her long ponytail to indicate she was anything more than a lump of bedding. Lae’zel on her back with one leg kicked up, for some reason.

“Have you bitten any of us before?” you say.

He makes a sound, one part smug, and one part wistful. “Darling, I’m good, but I’m not that good. You’d have noticed if I spent the night devouring you.”

You roll your eyes. “So what stopped you?”

“It seemed ill mannered to bite without asking. Present instance excluded.”

So he could have, but didn’t. Whether he’d actually considered it rude, or some other reason he’s not telling you (getting caught), y’all’ve been laying your necks out for the taking for days. He hasn’t been pulling a dracula and draining one of y’all slowly. He didn’t slaughter his way through camp in a feral blood rage.

And yes, you’re pretty sure part of that is the reason he’s tagging along with y’all anyway: security in numbers. Still. He can control himself, present instance excluded.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, you been trustworthy so far. Mostly.”

“Thank you,” he says. For the first time tonight, the tension laced through him seems to genuinely crack and give. You think that’s the end of it, and almost turn back to your warm bedroll. But then he makes a hesitant gesture and you stop. “Do you think you could, ah, trust me just…a little further? I only need a taste, I swear.”

A taste…?

Oh.

Ohhh.

“My blood,” you say like a clever person.

“Not all of it! Just enough to get me back to top form. For whatever we find tomorrow.”

The vampire wants to drink your blood. That’s…

“Um,” you say.

Focus. You need to focus.

That hunger. Your own middle still shivers from the memory, and you’d only brushed his thoughts for a moment. You know hunger. Or thought you did (it seems a mewling kitten in comparison to the thing Astarion is carrying around). You wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And you donated blood back home on the regular. It’s just blood, right? Your body will make more, and the guy could use it.

But vampirism is a bit different from a sterile needle, and it has side effects in all the movies. You take a breath.

“Two questions. One, is this in any way, shape or form, going to result in killing me now or in the future?”

His face does something complicated before he answers, “Not at all. I don’t intend to take any more than you can handle.”

Your stomach flutters. This is batshit (ha). Surely y’all could bring him something still kicking in the morning? Go hunting for him?

You fold your hands so he can’t see them shake. “Second question: is this going to, in any way shape or form now or in the future, turn me into a vampire?”

The emotion in his next smile you can identify. Bitterness. His chin drops, casting even the faint shine from the embers out of his eyes and leaving them dark.

“I’m a spawn, not a real vampire, darling. My bite won’t do anything more than sip from that precious neck of yours.”

Okay. Right. Questions answered. You think he’s telling the truth? You hope he’s telling the truth. Sweet baby jesus on a pogo stick, this is the stupid idea. Stoopid with two o’s.

“Can you pass on any other diseases you might have?” you say because you still have a handful of braincells trying to do their job.

“That’s three questions.”

You stare.

He grins all fake; you’re learning to recognize it.

“D’you want my blood or not?”

He actually slouches as he rolls his eyes.

 “Alright, fine. Not that I know of.” He holds one finger up to silence the next question forming on your lips. “I can experience side effects if I feed on something rancid. But as I’m dead—technically undead—I can neither catch nor spread mortal diseases.”

…sounds logical. Also sends a cascade of biology questions churning through your mind. Maybe he’ll let you ask, later? This’ll probably increase your standing with him, if no one else, and that’s a step towards proving you aren’t a total drain on camp resources (the fucking irony). Besides, it’s not your first donation, even if the form and function are vastly different (are they, though?).

You roll your head onto your shoulders. Shrug a couple of times to loosen the tension. Say, “Okay then.”

He actually backs up. Not a full step, just a surprised sort of shuffle. In the gloom, the dead fire paints his shocked expression in shades of orange and red.

“Really?” he says, and even he can’t hide the genuine surprise in his voice. “I…of course. I’ll not take one drop more than I need.”

You’re doing this. Good god, you’re doing this.

He seems to psyche himself up, too. Straightens and gives his shoulders a wiggle. His chin lifts, mask slides back into place. He says, “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[captain-hawks]

i'm sitting at the airport terminal in the middle of the night and something wild just happened to me and my first thought was "is this miya twin coded?" so i popped over here because 1. you're one of my absolute favorites. 2. i was just re-reading your kita piece for all the glorious emotional smut. and 3. you also <3 the miyas. please excuse me as i process this.

in senior year high school i went to a weekend-long statewide competition and met these twins in the elevator. one of them definitely had more swagger, more teasing confidence (the kind that guys who are usually successful with ladies have) and the other one was a little quieter, seemed a bit more sincere even though he talked less. we hit it off in conversation and they asked me and my friend if we wanted to grab food with them. i wasn't entirely sure but i thought maybe they were flirting? i was pretty sheltered up until that point and didn't want to assume incorrectly. towards the end of the comp the quieter twin asked if he could come visit me in my city and i, confused, asked "why??" spoiler alert: i ended up dating him for ~2 years.

i found out early on in our relationship that after our "casual dinner" that night when they got back to their room, Swag twin wanted to try his luck and see if he could get with me, but Quiet twin said that he would FIGHT HIM because Quiet really liked me and genuinely wanted to ask me out and he said he wouldn't let his brother ruin that by trying to hook up. Swag was apparently used to usually getting his way, so he realized how serious Quiet was to threaten to beat his ass so i guess he backed off. I didn't find this out until after Quiet and i started seriously talking/dating.

I went out of state for college but we maintained the LDR until halfway through my sophomore year. classic breakup reasons: growing pains/long distance was taking its toll/i wanted to explore life. but we remained on good terms and consider each other friends! we rarely talk, but he still let me use his netflix login for the past 11 years. when he was moving into a corporate role a couple years ago i helped him with interview prep, and when i was looking for a new job he sent me reqs he thought were a good fit.

he's had at least a couple relationships in the near-decade since we broke up (we don't talk about dating but i had seen on social media at some point). i've dated and had a few situationships and am now in a 4 year relationship with my bf. however, he most definitely doesn't know this because we don't chat often, i'm rarely on socials these days and my bf is a very private person.

i'm so sorry for how long this has been. all of this context is to say...i am chilling in the airport on my way home and I GOT A CONFESSION FROM QUIET?? something about i'm the one that got away, he feels he'd won the lottery by meeting me and having me in his life, he referenced the fight he had with his brother all those years ago and said he'd fight the same fight TO THIS DAY. i am flummoxed. i think it is a sign from the great spaghetti monster in the sky that i need to log off tumblr because my very first thought was "what in the fanfiction trope is this?" does this shit actually happen irl? now i need to go deal with this.

anyways thank you for reading this if you got this far! idk if it's just because it's twins and their dynamic is vaguely similar to osamu and atsumu but i was like...have i been isekai'ed into a miya twin fanfic? the sleep deprivation may be catching up to me and i may be entirely unhinged idk

first of all, ily and i’m so flattered you thought of me and ran over here to share this story. i literally read this while brushing my teeth because i was running late for work this morning, but i was so invested i had to read the whole message before i left.

anyway, EXCUSE ME????? i actually can’t get over this. how does it feel to have lived in a real life miya twins fanfic? are you taking interviews at this time? HE SAID HE WOULD FIGHT!!!! HIM? THE ATSUMU/OSAMU DYNAMICS i cannot believe. somewhere an author is on their knees (it’s me, the author). AND NOW THE CONFESSION???? OVER A DECADE LATER? i almost choked on my toothpaste. (i feel like there’s also irony to be found in the inherently symbolic nature of getting that message in such a transitionary, liminal space like an airport in the middle of the night.)

nonnie, i hope you have safe travels home and can get some much-deserved rest after that absolute bombshell. if there ever happens to be a future update or footnote to this story………..you know where to find me.

[goldensunset]

heehee seeing your pokemon playing posts make me so happy, esp now that you're playing platinum :] one of my fav mainline games for sure

can we get a peek at your teams? 👀 and any favorites?

awaaawawaaaaaaaa i love knowing that a bunch of oldschool pokémon fans follow me and enjoy watching this rookie’s dive into insanity. like my joy is multiplied by y’all’s joy at my joy. it’s a virtuous circle. plus online forums have absolutely nothing on y’all as far as helpfulness

so as you’ve probably deduced i’m raising a male kirlia in the hopes of getting gallade bc i think the moment i got my first one in pla i immediately got attached. i love that guy’s design and his little chirpy cry and i love his moveset. the kirlia is almost at level 30 so i have to box him for now

you’ve also probably deduced i have an umbreon bc i won’t shut up about her. i’ve never really used eeveelutions before but i’ve always loved their designs esp umbreon. they were always like little collectible figurines to me. glad i have a good excuse to use one now

i have prinplup that used to be the classic overlevelled starter but then i kind of ran short of uses for a water type, surprisingly. so now it’s kind of lagging behind the rest of the team. but i’m very much a ‘taking your starter out of your party even for a second is a federal crime’ kind of person. as embarrassing as it is i have him on the exp share rn. don’t worry emile you’ll get your time to shine again

i have a staravia who’s also been super helpful. i’ve got secret power (hidden power? which one was it called) on it too for slightly better coverage. that thing has single-handedly swept 2 gyms for me now. yeah baby

i also am constantly making reference to ‘skibby’, the kitty i named as a shinx when i was sleep deprived. i adore skibby and now she’s my highest level mon and she’s been so helpful w her moveset. first fully-evolved three stage mon i’ve got in this game. luxray is so cool man. at this point i’m not even switching into mons with type advantages i’m relying on bite, leer, swagger, and spark from a mon w good stats to take care of everything for me

hmmm uhmmm so i haven’t really decided on my definitive six yet so i have a few more that i’m investing in but like. not too hardcore investing in. i have a machop that i kind of have to keep around as an hm slave and a fighting type rep until i get gallade, a crobat i’m really not sure what the plan is with yet, a bibarel i’ve pretty much stopped using, and… some other new mons caught at a high level. honestly i need to remind myself that i don’t need to hand-raise every single baby pokémon i caught on the first two routes bc catching strong wild pokémon later is a thing. but then i also feel most attached to the ones i’ve had a while. i don’t feel like investing in my ponyta tho i’m banking on catching a better fire rep later. for the time being i’m just going without fire. or grass. or.. well, a lot of types actually. i don’t have enough diversity in my team is the problem. but i like the mons i have…

tldr this pokémon strategizing thing is hard but i like that i’m being forced to do it. i really brute forced my way through both pla and violet bc leveling up mons and getting new good moves was easy then. now even from the very beginning of the game before the first gym i’ve had to make tactical decisions at every turn and i love it actually

[bitterarcs]

Empathy was not a trait a sane or insane person would place upon the heart of the Turk, wisely so. Reno was the most important person in Reno's life. Second to that was his partner and arguably best friend. The list fell off after two names. Out of duty and duty alone, the president was someone he cared about and only in the name of livelihood. A concern was shown towards the Turks. Some he liked more than most, but there was a brotherhood which earned his loyalty and his fight. He didn't want to describe his feelings towards Isrieal because there were barely any to sift through and analyze. She was not one of the Turks and immediately that set her down at the barrel.

The woman wasn't entirely awful, no, yet there was a quality within her that set Reno on the edge. People could have their secrets and their mysteries as all humans did, but the red haired Turk held a sneaking suspicion there were more than just skeletons in her closet. Regardless, he felt no outward desire to be a diseased dick when an ally could be made. How did the saying go — something about fresh water, a horse, and using honey? With overflowing swagger, Reno kicked out the chair across from the woman and sat down with thighs spread apart comfortably. Vending machine green tea was housed in the styrofoam cup he handled, and he placed the cup beneath his chin to warm his face with the hot vapors.

(  ❛  Right. And I'm the next president of ShinRa. Wouldn't that be something? I'd change a lot of things around here. Designate an entire closer to hook-ups; one per floor. People use them anyway already, but then they'd be official.  ❜  )

Reno chuckled at his own foolish thoughts. There was a filter between mind and mouth, yet sometimes it failed him and managed to amuse the creator. He was a little sleep deprived as well, but he looked fresh and merry compared to Isrieal. The red head pursed his lips to blow air against the steaming cup, but he opted to delay its consumption for a few more moments.

(  ❛  Everyone needs sleep even those tough as shit SOLDIERs. Take a shot or something and conk out. No one will say shit.  ❜  )

  'I don't need any rest, I'm fine.'  @ofgeneticperfection          (   is this a love confession, isrieal ?  )

[twiceasfrustrating]

i dont really know if im breaking any rules so feel free to ignore this if i am: so its canon that there is no sun in devildom, right? could i have lucifer or diavolo reacting to mc suffering the effects from not getting enough sunlight? like, their skin has turned pale and they feel tired all the time. stuff like that.

Rating: General Audience

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: fluff, sunlight deprivation, demons know nothing or human biology

Summary: Humans need sunlight. This is not negotiable. Unfortunately, someone in the Devildom definitely didn’t do their research.

A/N: Considering I have never posted any rules, I don’t know how you would be breaking them. Lol Actually, I should probably do that at some point…

Word Count: 627

Diavolo was the first to notice that the exchange student had been acting strange lately. He liked to check in with them at least once a week for an official meeting, but he had noticed that they didn’t seem to be acting like themselves the last few times he had run into them. Their eyes were as hollow as the undead and they walked with a swagger that suggested they were ready to fall over at any moment. However, every time he asked if they were doing well, they would just nod and go about their day.

He asked Lucifer, assuming someone who lived with them would know more about what was happening. All the Lord of Pride could say was that the human went to class, came home, ate a little, and slept. Honestly, it was like having another Belphegor in the house with how often they’d been sleeping.

“Are you positive?” Diavolo asked, feeling like something wasn’t adding up.

“I understand your concern, but they are not acting suspiciously. It’s likely that they have simply adjusted and are more comfortable with falling into their usual routine.”

He hummed in contemplation, “That doesn’t sound right? They used to be so excited and energetic when they first arrived…”

Lucifer had to keep himself from rubbing his temples, “It would be faster to ask them than me.”

“But they tell me everything is fine when I ask…”

“Then ask Solomon. Surely he would be able to tell you about human issues more than I can.”

“That’s a great idea.” Lucifer also thought that would be enough to leave him alone, but Diavolo pulled out his DDD and called Solomon while still in his presence. It rang a few times before the wizard picked up the other end. Before he could even say ‘hello’, Diavolo was already speaking, “Solomon, can you answer a human question for us?”

“Us?” Solomon’s voice came through the speaker.

“Me and Lucifer.” To which the demon in question gave his prince a look that pleaded for his name not to be used when speaking to this particular human.

However, it was already too late, “Oh? Does Lucifer need a favor from me?’

“I do not, thank you.” Lucifer had to clear the air before Solomon got any ideas.

“Unfortunate.”

“Actually, I’m the one with a question,” Diavolo said, finally getting back on point. He repeated all of his previous observations to Solomon concerning the odd behavior the other exchange student had been exhibiting.

“I see…” Solomon hummed before asking a follow-up question, “By chance, would you say that they have been pale, not as hungry, and maybe even a little scatterbrained?”

Diavolo looked up at Lucifer for the answers to those questions.

He answered with a sigh, “I suppose you could say that.”

“That sounds like they have a vitamin D deficiency. As long as they take their supplements, they should be fine.”

Both of the demons went silent and looked at each other in confusion.

It was a silence that made Solomon very uncomfortable, “You know. The supplements they should be taking every day since there’s no sunlight down here and that's necessary for all humans. You did remember to account for that, right?”

The continued silence did not put his mind at ease.

“I feel like I should make them their own personal mini sun for their room.” It would be faster than trying to explain human biology to either of the demons who apparently did not know this very basic human fact, “I’ll come over later today to get that setup.”

“Thank you, Solomon,” Diavolo beamed through the DDD.

“Don’t mention it.” Please? He almost felt guilty for leaving his fellow human at the mercy of such ignorance for so long.

[flameinthedesert]

Drakka x Aloy fanfiction (EXPLICIT)

Thank you for the opportunity! Here’s my fic! I never came up with a proper title, sorry! And before you start reading, here’s a quick disclaimer again: this is an EXPLICITLY NSFW fic written by an adult. Please interact with it accordingly.

As an additional detail, the two characters are not wearing armor here, since this story takes place at a festival in Scalding Spear, sometime after Drakka was made leader. They are both dressed in casual wear and whether they’re wearing body paint is up to your imagination.

It’s the first time I wrote something like this, hope you find it agreeable! ;) Let me know what you think!

- Anon

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sun was setting over the desert but its people were in the midst of an all-night celebration. Clean fresh water and ale began flowing a few hours earlier and the settlement was loud with music and glee. The desert clan was having a spectacular feast around the pit while a few drunk warriors sparred in the arena. A drumline entertained people with an intense beat and waves of laughter erupted whenever a warrior tripped and fell after missing their opponent with their spear. The buzzed Tenakths were having so much fun that no one even realized their new chief and his fire-haired friend were nowhere to be seen.

Aloy entered Drakka’s sleeping quarters with him following behind. She took a quick glance around the chief’s inner sanctum: the room was well decorated but simply furnished. The vibrant yellow and red colors of painted spikes glowed softly in the warm light that the rows of candles provided from various small tables and shelves. It was the innermost room in his home and the heavy leather tarp on the doorway muted much of the music and sounds of merriment from outside as Drakka let it hang behind him.

Aloy turned around and watched him approach. He’d been buttering her up all evening, ever since their spar in the pit. She could tell he got a kick out of making her all flustered in front of everyone and he even seemed to enjoy being pinned to the ground at spear-point, as long as she was on the other end of the weapon. Aloy was used to compliments and admiration but something about the way he didn’t try to mask his attraction made her want to see if he can back up his words with acts. She decided that she would wait and have him make the first move - she already let him escort her here, after all.

Drakka didn’t waste any time and caught up to her with a few steps. He walked with his usual swagger that she found just as charming as annoying. He came to halt an inch away from her, looking as smarmy as ever. They were chest to chest, standing tall, like two warriors ready to duke it out. The two of them have been sizing each other up all evening, waiting for this moment.

The way he smiled at her, Aloy expected the usual smack talk out of Drakka at this moment, but instead he placed his hand under her chin and kissed her passionately. For a split second Aloy wondered, how on Earth does a Tenakth desert warrior have such soft lips? With a palm placed on his tattooed chest she returned the kiss and Drakka pulled her closer, one of his hands sliding to her waist. She barely noticed when he had undone her waist piece above her undergarment; chasing a touch of his tongue with her own was too distracting.

As soon as they felt each other, it seemed to have awakened something in Drakka: he shoved his tongue against hers desperately, almost overwhelming her with the kiss. It caught Aloy off-guard, but in the back of her mind she wondered how deprived must he be to act so rough already. The thought excited her and she couldn’t wait to continue.

One of the man’s hands was grabbing her ass by now, the other holding tight to the back of her neck, making sure she didn’t escape the assault of his kisses. The way he used his tongue got her all worked up and she was doing her best to retaliate.

Soon enough she found herself pressed against one of the embroidered wall tapestries of the room. Drakka softened his kiss, pulled away and looked at her. He narrowed his eyes and that stupid smile was on his face again, the one that made Aloy want to wrestle him to the ground.

“Can’t believe I got to kiss you.” he said with labored breath and he watched his hand travel from her clavicles to her chest. His fingers found their way under the cloth of her chest piece and pushed it above her breasts. He continued on a trail of kisses from her lips to her jawline while palming at her breasts firmly. Aloy realized that Drakka must have gotten rid of his own waist piece because she could feel his erection pressing up against her. She couldn’t see but from the size of it, it felt like it escaped his loincloth already.

His fingers left her chest and were now traveling down her toned abs. The cool beads that decorated her ornate chest piece dangled down and around her nipples, teasing them with every small movement.

Drakka’s hand arrived to her inner thigh. He touched the bottom of her undergarment gently and she could feel him smile against the nape of her neck: “Oh, looks like I found an oasis in the desert.” At this point Aloy was too desperate to give a comprehensive enough reply to his asinine joke and he didn’t wait for one either. He pushed one finger under the wet cloth from the side and slid it all the way to the back, caressing her with his knuckle. He barely touched her but the sensation of his skin gliding on hers made Aloy let out an indecent sound. Yet again she could feel Drakka smirk by her ear but all he asked softly was “Yeah?”. He did the same motion with his finger again, this time to loosen the cloth and sure enough, it was off in a matter of seconds.

Aloy spread her legs wider and Drakka placed his fingers between her wet folds. He circled her entrance and she felt another surge of excitement - they barely started and she was all ready for him. She heard him sigh into her hair, probably imagining what entering her must feel like - and in all honesty, she was impressed that he had not sought any pleasure for himself yet. His fingers now slid upwards, straight to her clit and after a few small rounds, back down. It seemed like Drakka knew exactly how to keep Aloy on her toes: whenever she got too riled up by him playing with her clit, he would trace his way back to her entrance and tease her there for a while. Both a different kind of unfulfilled sensation, a different kind of torture. He toyed with her for what felt like an eternity and she clawed at his back and nipped at his shoulder in frustration.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Drakka.” growled Aloy, with her voice wavering. “Just warming you up, Desert Flame.” he whispered softly. “But fine, no more messing around.” He raised his head, tilted it slightly and looked her dead in the eye as he slid two extremely slippery fingers into her. Despite wishing for this all along, she couldn’t contain her excitement and gave out a slightly louder noise than she intended. She felt his erect penis twitch against her, as his body was pressing hers to the tapestry still. He started moving his hand and she buckled her hips against it, beckoning him to go harder. He was hitting the perfect spot, one that even Aloy found hard to reach.

She was holding onto him for dear life now, arms wrapped around his neck, grabbing onto the back of his chest piece and hair, burying her head into his neck. The small ornaments on his chest piece were pricking her but she didn’t even notice. The scents of dust, body paint, sweat and desert flowers mixed together acted like an aphrodisiac that made her tighten more around his fingers. She was fairly sure he’d been murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, but she couldn’t focus on the exact words said to her. As great as his fingers felt, she couldn’t stop thinking about the fiery hot dick pressed against her thigh.

Drakka’s fingers slowed down before Aloy could have reached her limit. She was hoping this meant that he was about to give her the real deal. He pulled away slightly and raised his hand up to his lips. He theatrically licked her juices off his fingers, all while staring at Aloy with piercing eyes. He finished it off by sliding his tongue between his fingers suggestively; Aloy got the hint immediately. He leaned in for a wet kiss and she had to admit to herself: her own smell on Drakka’s lips was heavenly.

“You said no more messing around.” she whispered sternly and he lowered to his knees. “I say a lot of things.” he grinned, then  placed his tongue between her breasts to drag it along her body as he went down. This made her shiver with pleasure from head to toe.

Aloy scolded herself for not catching a glimpse of Drakka’s loincloth while the man’s mouth made its way to her lower torso, but she forgot about it as soon as his tongue hit her inner thigh. He placed a flat tongue on her folds, giving his attention to every inch on his way to her clit. It occurred to Aloy again how incredibly soft his lips were when he sucked at her most sensitive part. Her hands grabbed onto the tapestry behind her, she felt like her head was spinning, he was doing such a good job down there, looking up at her with a cheeky expression every once in a while. She was getting close when she felt Drakka’s fingers tease her entrance again. He slid them in and continued thrusting with them like he never stopped. The relentless pumping, his lips around her clit and the increasingly wet sounds of it all pushed Aloy over the edge and she convulsed. Drakka did not stop or slow down. If anything, he sped up and pressed with his tongue even harder. Aloy grabbed his hair and gasped voicelessly: “Wait.. wait.. Drakka, wait!”. He flashed his eyes at her again for a brief moment but he would not stop until she let out another moan.

She was still in the haze of her second climax when she realized that she’s on her back now, laying on the room’s cot with Drakka kneeling above her, wiping his mouth with one hand and ripping his loincloth off with the other. He looked extremely pent up, his previous naughty expression gone. Aloy knew she was finally in for it and she couldn’t help but smile with glee. He spat on his fingers and smeared it all over his cock. Before she knew it, she felt it strain against her entrance.

He leaned above her and lifted one of her legs up, then thrusted his dick as deep into her as he possibly could. Aloy gasped soundlessly, Drakka buried his head in her hair and let out a low moan: “Ah, by the Ten!” He stayed still for a second, his cock throbbing as hot and hard as a fire machine’s armor inside her. He finally started moving, carefully but with a merciless tempo. He straightened up and examined her mostly naked body with a mix of pride and admiration while he moved. Slowly, his expression turned more serious as he got lost in focusing on his movement.

Aloy didn’t like feeling vulnerable but this she was enjoying immensely. For all the time Drakka spent trying to convince her that he was not a hot-headed idiot but a laid-back cool guy, he sure looked worked up and ready to explode now. Eventually he leaned down to embrace Aloy again and fucked her so thoroughly that she could barely make a sound - it felt like her orgasm never ended and she was still riding the high from when he ate her out. His balls slammed against her butthole almost exactly to the insane beat of the drums outside.

Drakka was clearly nearing climax. He finally paced himself and carefully moved out of her, with cock still hard as metal. Aloy, with a moment to breathe, gathered her strength and pushed Drakka down to the cot. She kneeled in front of him while he propped himself up on his elbows. She placed her hand on his leg and softly dragged her fingers up on his inner thigh, tracing the lines of his tattoos. They were both drenched in sweat and would have been cold from the night chill that was creeping in from the desert, if it wasn’t for their attention being completely dedicated to each other.

Aloy’s hand arrived at Drakka’s privates and she cupped his balls gently. She grabbed his dick with her other hand and leaned down to run her tongue over it. Drakka let out yet another breathy sigh, which prompted Aloy to put his cock in her mouth and start sucking him off. She couldn’t fit his whole size but he didn’t seem to mind. She felt one of his hands caress her face and hair as she was working him. She looked up and their eyes met; Drakka was staring at her lovingly, whispering words of encouragement so quietly she couldn’t make out anything beyond “you’re too good to me”. It’s like the man that was fucking the life out of her a few minutes ago was a completely different person. Whenever Aloy imagined this moment before, she half expected him to grab her by the hair and ram his whole cock down her throat. She was thankful that she judged him wrong and she was going to show her appreciation for letting her go at her own pace.

Aloy switched between sucking and pumping with her hand, just like he varied his methods of teasing her earlier. Both seemed to bring him closer to the edge but she always slowed down just enough to stop him from cumming when he began thrusting into her palm. He was barely holding it together; she could taste precum on his cock with every tug. When she finally looked up at him again, he was laying flat on his back with his hands behind his head, fingers tangled in his own hair, chin pointed at the sky and cursing under his breath. Aloy felt extremely pleased at the sight of Drakka’s misery and she decided that he had suffered enough.

She straddled him and slowly lowered herself onto his cock. He gave her a pleading look which prompted her to kiss him gently. “No more messing around” - Aloy smiled. She began riding him and it felt entirely too good - so good in fact that she hoped to get off one more time before letting him finish. “Not yet….” she moaned, and Drakka, despite clearly struggling, replied like the good soldier he was: “Yes ma'am”. She picked up speed to the point where the muscles in her thighs were burning. He noticed, placed his hands on her ass and pushed her slightly forward to be able to prop his legs up below her. As soon as he got in position he started thrusting up and into her, even harder than before. He placed his lips on one of her breasts, beads dangling around his face while he slammed against her. It didn’t take long for Aloy to climax, the pleasure was so intense that she felt like she lost all of her senses outside her pussy. She could only focus on how incredibly solid Drakka’s cock was getting inside her as she was riding out her orgasm. She was holding onto whatever she could grab on him, but still going at it while her muscles spazzed. Drakka couldn’t bear her rhythmic tightening around his cock anymore and finally let go, but he didn’t stop. He pumped away at an impressive speed until their juices were dripping down her legs and back onto his dick, moaning loudly the whole time during his pleasure.

They sprawled onto their backs next to each other on the cot - cuddling with their chest pieces on would have been a little uncomfortable now that they were both fully relaxed. They laid there for a while in silence, catching their breaths.

“WOW.” that was all Drakka could muster. “I thought you’d be more of a gloat after all that.” laughed Aloy. Drakka raised his eyebrows: “You know, this might come as a surprise but I like you way more than I like me, Aloy.”

She was not sure how to reply to this sudden proclamation of love, or if she should say anything at all, but she felt touched and she appreciated his honesty. She put her hand in his and gave him a warm smile. Drakka squeezed her hand and winked at her.

She had no idea what this was between them but for now she was content with laying there with fingers intertwined and listening to the beat of the drums outside.

-XX