#so occasionally i just go ham with it

[thephilosopherspupil]

i can have a little spamming my followers' dashboards as a treat

[kon-konk]

After 56 fuckin pulls (and for once no featured UR on my quest for the featured SR, though I did get Rum and Boston Lobster) I got this Hanako-kun lookin' ass

Also, um... His ascension message... Is something

[shinobicyrus]

I've seen a lot of posts about Batman using his Bruce Wayne alter ego for the good of Gotham: job programs for felons released from prison, orphanages, charities, high wages for his employees, ethical business practices...the legendary post where Bruce Wayne goes to Wal-Mart.

Thus far I've never personally seen anybody really dig into the persona of Bruce Wayne the Billionaire Playboy. A handsome, rich, powerful man who always is seen at fancy galas, art openings, charity dinners, and wild parties with at least one beautiful woman on his arm.

We know Bruce Wayne is the mask, and its Batman who has a...complex love life, depending on the iteration we're talking about. Talia, Catwoman, sometimes Wonder Woman.

Bruce Wayne's dates, on the other hand, are all "normal" people. Maybe they're an aspiring actress, a supermodel, a prima ballerina, the occasional reporter...and every time there's that bit of nervousness at the start.

Sure everyone knows Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows the story with him. Sometimes his wilder parties make the news, but there's never really been anything nasty reported about him. Never...allegations. But he's a billionaire. He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city, nevermind the country. If he did have some skeletons in his closet. Well. Men with power have a way of making those kinds of stories go away, don't they?

As time goes on the Date's fears dissipate pretty quickly. Bruce Wayne is nothing but polite, kind, and at times charmingly awkward in an 'raised by his butler in a mansion' kind of way with his dates. Some of them can tell he's holding back, of course. Maybe the more perceptive Dates notice he's smarter than he lets on - playing the himbo or hamming up the "know-nothing rich boy" act to the cameras or some of his wealthy peers.

He also listens, is the thing. He's always listening to what they're saying, is interested in hearing about their careers, their hobbies, their lives. Really listens, too. Might refer to something a Date said weeks later off-hand. Buy out the whole museum for a private dinner date with a famous painting from an obscure artist they like, or a private performance with another's favorite band.

He has anecdotes and funny stories for days that somehow says very little about his personal life. The Dates know he has kids (it's practically a running gag in the news that Bruce Wayne has adopted yet another orphan) and maybe she might spot one of them at the mansion, but Bruce seems very keen to shelter them from any intense spotlight and scrutiny, and they all seem happy if a bit weird like him.

Eventually, there's drifting. He's a very busy man, with a very busy schedule. On more than on occasion his nice old butler will call and extend apologies that Mr. Wayne will not be able to make it this evening. Sometimes it's virtually impossible to get a hold of him over the phone. After a while they stop trying. None of them feel quite surprised by that. In the end, it just doesn't work. Sure, he's a little distant and doesn't make himself emotionally available...but he's not a bad person.

Especially when the so-called "exes" of Bruce Wayne start networking. Gotham isn't a small city, but the social circles Bruce Wayne travels in aren't as big. They don't quite gossip or complain about him. More like...who else would get it?

(I touched his side once and he winced...like he'd been hurt real bad there. He laughed and said it was tackle polo. How does that even-?)

(Somehow, after two dates, he saw right through me and listened while I told him what that casting director tried to do. He nodded, gave me the contact details of a law firm, and said not to worry about the legal fees.)

(I don't know for sure it was him, but it can't be a coincidence that my building got bought out from under my shitty landlord and we were all able to buy our apartments under market value.)

(He got my brother in the best rehab program in the city after his relapse. It probably saved his life. We'd stopped dating months ago, I still don't know how he found out.)

(He gave me a card with a phone number and told me that if I was ever in trouble to call it. Said one of his cars would come to pick me up, any time, any place, no questions asked. The one time I did have to use it after a bad party, it was Alfred.)

I think any tabloid reporter digging around for salacious stories or dirt about Bruce Wayne's love life would be completely and politely stonewalled when they try asking his former Dates. Even when money is offered. Every single one of them.

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[sorrowedpickle]

Of the fittest

Wednesday Addams x g!p!reader

A/N: I was eating ham while making this

Warning: g!p, p in v, ooc!wednesday, bottom to top reader, top to bottom Wednesday

The clicking sounds of her type writer were the only things you could hear besides your heartbeat in your ears, your breath catching in your throat at every little movement one of you would do due to your sensitivity.

Your breathing shallow as you stare at the back of your girlfriend, it was slightly hunched over but straight up as her fingers moved elegantly across her type writer you gave up on focusing on long ago.

How could you focus with her pussy wrapped around your cock like something perfectly molded just for you, she had made sure it would fit her perfectly. Many times she had took her time to make sure you fit just right and were able to slip in with no worries.

Your hips buck up toward her, desperate to be deeper only to feel her quickly pinch your thigh with her well manicured nails. It was a sharp pain, though not too painful to the point it had you wanting to pull away.

“Hold still,” Wednesday snaps, her type writer sounds pausing and her sharp glare looking back down at you. You whine softly, grip on her hips tightening before shifting to get a little more comfortable.

Her walls warm around your shaft as she returns to writing, purposely squeezing herself around you as a way to torture you while she casually went back to doing what she was.

It was somewhat of a punishment for bothering her all day with your neediness, wanting her to bring you away from prying eyes and fuck you until you saw stars. She had made you wait all day and now she was going to make you wait a little longer while you were inside of her.

She had told you to wait an hour. Just an hour and you could do what you wanted, even then you knew you’d have to go at her pace but you didn’t care as long as you got some kind of release.

But it was starting to get hard, the way she had been moving around and squeezing her pussy to tease you for what felt like a lifetime was really getting to you as your hands as her tightly, most likely creating dark shapes onto her pale skin in the process but she didn’t seem to mind.

Your head throws itself back against the railing of her chair, groaning quietly as she continued to work on her novel while you dick was oh so casually buried deep inside of her. It was both intoxicated how she’d ignore your pleas while also frustrated when she’d force you to stay still and get mad when you wouldn’t.

Wednesday herself was regretting her decision of having you inside of her while she worked. It was meant to be a punishment for you but it seemed to tables were turning onto her as your cock twitched inside of her with your occasional bucking of your hips.

“Weds,” you whine, trying to pull her further onto your hard cock. “Please.” Your whine gets a little louder when you see she doesn’t react and you seem to get even more desperate as you shift.

She ignores that as well, knowing you just wanted the attention she refused to give you. “Wednesday, please, just fuck me already.” You whine even louder, as you stare down at the skirt that covers your view of her ass.

She ignores your plea and making you whine even more as you pull her further up onto your lap and pulling her down more forcing the cock into an angle that was deeper and had her seeing stars, she flinches slightly and her typing stops as she holds back a moan, gripping the edge of the table.

She quickly recovers and her head snaps back to look at you, a glare on her face as her eyes lock onto your desperate ones.

It was a warning, that much you knew but you didn’t care. She had been torturing you for half an hour and you couldn’t take it much longer.

Your hand reaches up and you grab her shoulder tightly, making sure she can’t resist as you quickly stand up. The sound of the chair hits the floor with a clattering noise as you push Wednesday into the table, shoving your cock further into her throbbing pussy.

Her body tenses and she claws at the table, eyes wide as she stares forward while her pussy squeezed tightly around you. You breathing was rigid as your front presses up against her back, hand keeping her waist pressed up against yours.

She shivers slightly at feeling your hot breath against her flushed ear. You were going to regret this later, she’d make sure of it. But first, she wanted you to finish what you had started.

You sit up slightly, hand pressing into the small of her back to keep her pressed into the table while your other hand gripped her hip tighter, pulling her closer to your pelvis if it were even possible.

“Fuck,” you whisper, voice shaky as your hips start to move. You start soft, allowing her to adjust to the feeling before taking it up a notch when the sound of her breathing increased as well.

You’d pull out to the point she thought you’d actually leave before slamming back into her making her gasp quietly, hands gripping her table tighter as small breaths leave her at your continued actions.

She felt so good, especially after being inside of her for so long and not being able to move at all. It shocked you, really, you thought it couldn’t get any better after getting used to the feeling of her. But no, every movement gave you a new feeling that shot through your body like electric bolts.

It was tantalizing, addicting even and you wondered why you hadn’t thought about what it’d feel like when you first met her. You couldn’t get enough.

Your head is down, pressed against her shoulder blades with your mouth agape with your hands roaming under her shirt to feel the warm skin buried underneath, hands playing with the hem of her bra before a sound you had never expected to leave Wednesday leaves her.

A whimper. The sound quiet and barely noticeable but you noticed it. Before you could even process it more leave her, nails digging into the wood as her ass pushes back against you for more.

And more you give her, pushing her further up onto the table only to have things knock all over the place while she pushes her type writer to the side with a kind of strength you or herself didn’t know she had to be able to push the heavy thing.

It’s not questioned though, you were too busy fucking yourself into her to really care at the moment as you scratched down her back under her checked shirt with face buried deep into the fabric as you listened to her soft noises.

You didn’t want it to end. The feeling of her wet pussy gushing against your cock, the sounds leaving her mouth getting slightly louder the rougher you get, the sight of her back arching under you or her hair starting to get a little frizzy as you fuck into her. It took everything in you not to cum instantly, not so quickly anyway.

You wanted to savor it all, keep it in your memory for later when you weren’t together or just to have there for when you were bored in class. You just wanted it.

And that you would do, having her fuck back against you with the same amount of neediness as you as you bit down onto her clothes shoulder to muffle your moans as her pussy engulfed you.

Her sounds got louder, whimpers and soft moans making you shudder and the feeling in your belly starts to grow bigger as your teeth bite down harder onto her, wanting more noises of pleasure to leave her.

Her legs begin to shake, forcing you keep her up by hips while one hand reached down and began rubbing her clit in fluid motions that had her body jolting as a loud moan left and her grip on the table tightened.

The feeling of her cumming onto your cock was insatiable. Her warm velvet walls getting even more warmer around you as your thrusting became more sloppy while you moaned loudly into her shirt, face burying itself deeper into her as you finally came into her, hot liquids filling her up as your hips twitched slightly.

Both of your breathing was heavy as you laid there against the table, your body pressed firmly against her as your cock stays buried deep inside of her. Not exactly caring about the sensitivity but wanted to keep the warmth of her around you there for a bit longer before pulling out into the cold and dark world.

You wanted to stay like that for a bit, out of it. One, because you were out of it and needed a moment to collect yourself and two, because you knew you were in for one hell of a punishment after. So, it was best to enjoy the feeling and moment while it lasted before being denied and in pain for the rest of the night.

—

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[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Refrigerator

I feel you leave the bed an hour or two after we stop talking. I hear your heavy footsteps plop down the hall, they almost sound like little hops. 

I slink out of bed once you’ve gone out of earshot. I avoid the squeaky board because I know my weight will cause a whine. I even had to slide out of the bed very slowly, those springs are noisy. 

I grab my camera. I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming. Today was grocery day. I bought us aaaall kinds of delicious meals, snacks, ingredients, and sweets. You helped me put it all away awhile ago, if you can classify ‘help’ as standing there looking pretty, and taking samples. 

I find you there. The kitchen is dark. The refrigerator is open, it’s white light clothes you better than any fabric ever could. The rays shoot out across your fat folds like a vast ocean. Stretch marks, dimples, cellulite…all your beautiful details are illuminated like a sunset at the coast. You’re leaned back, with one hand on the open door’s handle, and the other reaching in for more. A small, soft hand outstretched looking for treats, with a wobbly honey ham of an upper arm rippling behind it. Your soft, sagging, heavy orb of a gut hangs slightly as you lean forward. A deep overhang rests against those huge sacks of flour you call thighs. Your knees even have a little hang forming. Thick, powerful calves hold up all your lovely weight. Big, squishy, bulging hips. A stack of doughy fat rolls cover your sides and connect to truly giant back rolls, and blubbery tits. It’s all swaying like the waves as you look for something yummy. I watch your double chin and your blubbery jaw chewing and chewing. Sometimes things just completely disappear between your plump lips.

I take a few 100 photos over 10 minutes or so. She’s art.

The only sounds that can be heard are your happy little hums. Your guttural, enthusiastic swallows occasionally break up that song, along with chewing. Soft, content burps with the occasional belch also ring out.

“How much can she eat? I’ll need to go shopping again tomorrow at this rate. Maybe this will cure her insomnia?” I thought to myself.

Eventually you slow down. You let out a long sigh of contentment. Heavy breathing is the only sounds I can hear now.

A pig in her natural habitat. 

[alliswyattonthewesternfront]

if i am doing shitty and the check out girl asks me, "how are you?" i will say,"man, i've been better." we are strangers to each other. she doesn't need to know my whole life story. she doesn't need to know about my credit score and my hemorrhoids or my uncle in the hospital. she just needs enough to respond "been there, buddy. hey, at least the day is almost over?" and then we part ways. i have been on both sides of thousands of exchanges like this, the only one making you do a little song and dance is you, my friend

"when people ask how you're doing, they don't really care." most of them do, actually, the amount they care is just directly proportional to how well they know you. you're just mad you can't be the main character of the Twice Daily.

[tpwk-formula1]

Holaa could i get a thick crust with red sauce, tomatoes, ham, parmesan cheese, chorizo on my pizza. I would also like to get a diet pepsi and a sun tea. And a dessert please with Lewis Hamilton. Graciass

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria

thin crust brothers best friend red sauce rough sex ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" parmesan cheese "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" chorizo "Alright, you spent my money. You know what to do now" diet coke biting sun tea sir kink

Lewis x Rosberg! reader

TW - road head, biting, slight sir kink, unprotected sex

WC 1500+

Y/N POV

"Lewis, please let me pay," I say while trying to tap my phone on the card reader but Lewis has a tight grip on my wrist holding it away from the card reader before softly tapping his phone and paying for my stuff again.

"Stop doing that, it's fucking embarrassing. I have money to get what I need and want," I hiss through clenched teeth when we start leavingthe store.

"I paid because I'm the reason you needed more panties, I'm sure I'll rip up those within the next few weeks," Lewis says casually as if he wasn't talking about being so rough he has destroyed at least 50 pairs of panties simply from the way he would rip them off of my body.

"You should work on that, I'm sure they have classes in patience," I say while flashing him a bratty smirk. We both know damn well I wouldn't want him to change and would rather have to buy new underwear daily than Lewis being gentle.

Lewis just pinches my side for the bratty comment making me squeal in shock.

When we get back into the car Lewis starts driving us back to his apartment taking the long back road back.

"Alright, you spent my money. You know what to do now," Lewis says with a smirk across his face while relaxing back slightly.

"Lewis! Don't be a dick," I say while softly hitting his chest but still looking around to make sure the road was empty before I'm unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out through his boxers, and lean down to pull his tip into my mouth and giving it a long suck.

"Fuck, I didn't think you'd actually do it," Lewis says making me look up at him. I notice the smirk across but get lost in his lust-filled eyes that are staring down at me making sure to flicker his eyes up to the road occasionally.

I start taking more of Lewis into my mouth where I start bobbing my head making sure to jerk off the part of Lewis's cock that doesn't fit into my mouth.

I knew Lewis wouldn't cum by the time we made it to his penthouse but I didn't care as I kept Lewis's cock warm the entire drive.

When we pull up to the garage I slip Lewis from my mouth and Lewis quickly slipped his cock back into his pants before getting out of the car and opening the door for me.

Once we got everything upstairs into Lewis's apartment I put away the stuff I would be keeping here and left the rest of the stuff that would be going back to my own apartment by the front door so I didn't forget anything.

"Come here," Lewis calls out roughly from his room. I make quick work of making it into Lewis's room where I find Lewis comfortably lying on top of the bed in just a tight pair of white briefs.

"Strip for me," Lewis calls out once I enter the room making my cheeks grow red but still I did as he said.

I slowly pulled my shirt up making sure to tease the sides of my tits when lifting my shirt up just to add to the show. Once my shirt was discarded I slowly turn facing away from Lewis so I can pull my shorts down and shake my ass for Lewis making him groan. When I turned back around I was already unclipping my bra and letting it fall to the ground. When I slowly pulled my panties down my pale legs I threw them right at Lewis when I finally had them off.

"Get on the bed," Lewis roughly states making me walk to the edge of the bed where I started crawling up the bed and onto Lewis's lap.

"I hope you know, you're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly," Lewis says when I finally climbed into his lap where he had been waiting for me while I was putting my stuff away.

"This is why I said you needed class in patience," I reply back with a smirk before pulling Lewis up for a kiss. Lewis just lands a few slaps on my ass clearly not loving my little comment.

"You've been extra bratty today," Lewis said with an edge in his voice.

"You love me though," I reply back before leaning down and placing my lips on his.

"I do, I have always loved you," Lewis replies back letting a smile stretch across his face making me smile back at him.

Lewis and I had known each other as long as he had known my brother and when I was a young 18 year old watching him make his Formula 1 debut and being just as excited for him as I was for my brothers a year before. We started dating when he made his way to Mercedes. There was a few rough years but as time has progressed I have been blessed to be Lewis's partner in crime. Lewis and Nico's relationship is still a bit rocky but as the years have passed and their maturity has grown they have been able to set aside their differences for my sake.

I lean back down and take Lewis's mouth into mine allowing for our tongues to tangle in a fight for dominance that Lewis very quickly won before he flipped up over so he was on top of me.

Once Lewis was comfortable on top he started kissing all around my jaw and even taking soft nips at it making sure I felt his teeth grazing my skin but not biting hard enough to make me whine.

Once Lewis makes it down to my neck his nips at my skin turn into full biting making me gasp when I feel Lewis's teeth sink into my collarbone. I knew some of these would leave marks but I loved every moment of it.

"Sir, please, I need you in me," I beg Lewis needing him to fuck me. Lewis just laughs lightly in a mocking tone making me whine knowing he was gonna keep teasing.

I feel Lewis make his way to my right tit where he pulled my nipple into my mouth and gives it a soft suck before he's sinking his teeth down into my nipple making me whine and jerk my body.

"Ow!" I say while slightly pushing Lewis's head away.

"Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again," Lewis said while leaning down and taking a hard bite out of my left nipple making me whine and push Lewis's head away again.

"I love how sensitive they get," Lewis said with a smirk making me whine and grind my nips up into his cock needing more stimulation.

Lewis finally pulls his briefs down releaving his hard cock before he's instantly sinking his cock into my pussy giving me no time to adjust to his size before he is bruttally fucking into my tight walls.

"Sir!" I moan out when he starts hitting my G-spot in a hard and repetitive pace.

"Fuck, so tight," Lewis groans when he falls into a steady pace making me moan consistently.

"Fuck, so good," I moan when he brings one of his hands down to my clit and teasing it under his fingertips.

Lewis leans back down and starts taking little nips out of my skin making me gasp and moan quickly becoming overwhelmed with all the pleasure Lewis was causing on my body.

"Are you already about to come for me," Lewis mumbles against my skin.

"Yes sir!" I shout when I feel Lewis bucking his hips into my pussy even hard making me start cumming almost instantly.

"Fuck!" I whine out when Lewis keeps fucking me through my shaking orgasm which he knew would lead me into a quick second orgasm if he kept up the pace.

"I'm gonna fill this tight pussy up," Lewis groans with a smirk across his face before he applies a bit more pressure on my clit sending me into a second orgasm that was much stronger than the first orgasm he gave me. I was so lost in the pleasure I didn't notice Lewis bucking into my hips before pushing in roughly and start cumming filling my pussy up completely with his cum.

"Fuck, I love when this pussy is full of my cum," Lewis groans before pulling out and getting a towel to clean me up slightly.

"Did so good," Lewis mumbles into my neck once he pulls me in for a cuddle.

"Felt so good," I mumble back pulling Lewis impossibly closer.

"I love you," I whispered when the room had fallen silent for a few minutes.

"I love you too," Lewis replies back making me smile.

"You're staying here tonight," Lewis tells me softly making me laugh lightly.

"Okay," is all I tell him before I lean up and place a soft kiss on his lips.

The rest of the night was spent relaxing with each other while we binge-watched Brooklyn 99.

[elodieunderglass]

I am absolutely wild and feral over HDM (legit like, daemons fit SO well. I'm watching dunmeshi wondering where Laios' dog went) and super curious if you do plan a sequel or other fics following this AU??

(In reference to the His Dark Materials / Dungeon Meshi fusion fic)

thank you so much for this question I love this question god!!!! Thank you thank you thank you

God sorry about HDM being delayed, I’m going through hell over it at the moment. It’s meant to end a little after the dragon, then a timeskip epilogue, with special coding so that you can read it two different ways, depending on whether you want spoilers for the manga/season 2. (My idea is that you’ll click a button to reveal/hide it, and the spoiler-free epilogue will be like found poetry.)

Firstly, if you or anyone else would like to take the concepts/characters in His Delicious Materials forward for themselves, you must do this. You don’t need my permission (but I’d love a link! so I can read, scream, reblog, comment, link to it, etc. there is also the “inspired by” setting on ao3 so we can link works directly to HDM, forming a collection for anyone who reads one and wants more.) I don’t own any of it! We are all just having fun! YOU can be the sequel you want to see in the world! If your heart feels a way forward, then follow your heart!! A daemon AU is really about revealing character and I find them really inspiring, like adding a whole engine to a story idea.

If I were to write something to follow up, I do know what the sequel WOULD be! It would be a sort of Discworld novel about the slow social revolution occurring in the half-foots as a chain reaction to Bee settling as a weasel, all occurring behind Chilchuck’s oblivious and unhelpful back. Pushed into a sort of bottleneck of sparrow- and mouse-souls, and marginalised to the very edges of society, half-foots are precarious and endangered. Chilchuck is mostly eating a ham sandwich unhelpfully in the foreground, and at the end of the story looks back and sees to his bewilderment that his people have found a way forward (they don’t have a Shire or a Chosen One, but they do have a goddamn functional worker’s union and their own collective dignity.) kind of Discworld-commentary-comedy, kind of a loving argument with Tolkien, kind of Sharpe hostile-and-awkward-protagonist-POV-doesn’t-know-and-wouldn’t-believe-that-his-men-genuinely-love-him, kind of about the experience of parenting, and kind of gently warmly political BUT FUNNY so it would be ok. but feel it would be too much of a stretch of people’s patience and the original materials’s intentions to call it fanfic. Too many OCs needed to carry the weight, too little reference to the other Dungeon Meshi characters, almost too little “payoff” for what would be a full 70k word work. So maybe to let the story breathe, it would be better worked up as original fiction?

(Plus, that is actually an actual novel: if people write their own novels and manga about orc coffeeshops and dnd parties, I could just write my own too: wait but how do you know if you should?)

Anyway, that is an entirely separate kettle of weasels and my own cross to bear! If your heart cries out for a sequel the best way to manifest it in the world is to write it!

If you feel that A Weasel Heart In Defiance feels like it would scratch that itch, here is a bit that is mildly relevant to Dungeon Meshi, which is Chilchuck and Bee starting to work away from home while the girls were still small. You’ll probably see what I mean from it.

About seven of the village children, including his own three, had a snake in a wooden bucket. They didn't look up.

The reappearance of a random guy who functioned mostly as a postal service and occasionally shouted at them about bedtime - in a way that could be easily blanked out if something more interesting was happening - simply could not be expected to compete for attention with a snake in a bucket.

Chilchuck could recognise this on some level, but as his own children ignored him, he felt very hot and angry, in a way that he had never wanted to feel about children, especially his.

Bee, also rigidly pissed off, growled, "Easy, boss."

This was where Chilchuck did the only thing so far that he was proud of, in this day. He did not start shouting, even though his temper was going something like What the fuck, kids, but worse. He stopped, took a minute, and remembered he'd had this whole thing where he'd wanted his kids to love him. He rubbed his nose, said, "Remind me," and his daemon reminded him: "What do we want them to actually do?"

And he said, "The bare minimum fucking acknowledgement would be nice."

And Bee said, "Have we explained that to them? Do they know?"

So Chilchuck and Bee, hot and tired and cross and still on the job apparently, sat down on the ground with the kids and looked in the bucket. The snake, poor bastard, looked very limp and tired. Chilchuck could relate.

After a while, Chilchuck said, "Girls?"

Or more accurately, something like, "Girls! Girls. Meifleurpatti-I mean Puck-PUCK. Listen up. Mei! Fleur, I'm talking - thanks Fleur - Puck. (Ryeland, stop the baby.) PUCK. Mei, Fleur, Puck - PUCK, eyes on me - thanks, Ryeland - PUCK. EYES," which condensed in parent-speak to a single roar of "Girls!"

When he had them more or less listening, he remembered to set his voice to the more singsong cadence one used for children, instead off the deeper version of his natural voice that he used for shouting at the top of his abilities at tall people; making the choice to be patient and gentle, or at least pretend to be someone who was; and in this manner he said reasonably, "Now, your dad's been away for a very long time and missed you all very much. What do you say? What do you say when your dad comes home?"

Six children stared at him blankly, and the baby toppled gently into the bucket. He fished it out, stuck it sideways under his arm, allowed the snake to escape in the confusion, acknowledged someone's grievously injured finger, stopped Fleur from pinching, took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped Puck's nose in essentially one continuous motion.

To be completely fair, now that he'd let go of the initial anger, he could see that the kids had absolutely no idea what he'd wanted of them. Kids had practically no social instincts at the best of times. Chilchuck coming home was remarkable, sure, but beyond their influence; how were they supposed to react? What do you say to a comet? What do you say to a hailstorm? What do you say when daddy comes home?

He repeated the question, as the children had universally drawn blanks and devolved into staring vacantly.

"Good morning, Daddy!" A child chirped helpfully, setting off the rest in an automatic drone of "good morning, Daddy," in the strangely universal dreary tone of all children saying that.

"So close, Fernwise! Is it morning? What else do we think?"

Bee, fighting for order among the kit-daemons, was simultaneously washing Fleurtom's daemon, Pantoufle's, face; receiving a long rambling report of a grievance from three incoherent witnesses; and minding the baby's chick-daemon; up to her ears in parenting. She said, around a mouthful of Pan, "Speed it up, boss, you're losing them."

"Where are your spots, Daddy?" Pan asked him. He was in the form of a young ferret and scrabbled against his mother's grip on his scruff.

"My what?"

"Your freckles," Bee said grimly, and seeing he'd been temporarily disarmed - and being a valiant beast in her way - charged in to her human's defense, "Is that nice, Pan? We don't want to make people feel bad about their looks, do we?"

"Yes we do," said Fleur.

"Fleur! We've just - we haven't seen much of the sun, that's all," said Bee, taking charge, the best and most loyal soul a man could have. "They'll come back, and they're not spots."

"Mei has spots."

"Freckles."

"Grimbob has spots."

"Yes, and you shouldn't notice," Bee said. "Think of Grimbob's feelings."

"I do, I think he feels spotty."

"I'm thirsty," Puck said flatly.

"Stick to the point, kids," Chilchuck said, recovering from the fact that his usual face was apparently indistinguishable to children from Grimbob's, who had been taking puberty hard. This was surprisingly difficult to do.

Ryeland, a mildly bright spark who was older than the Chils girls, connected two dots and suddenly roared "WELCOME HOME DADDY," so six children all repeated that automatically, and Fleur added sunnily, "I missed you Daddy!"

And just as a very small piece of Chilchuck's heart was finally allowed to melt, she added, equally sunnily, "Mei didn't."

"I did a little," Meijack said vaguely.

"That's great kids, well done, we got there in the end," Chilchuck said. "Remember it for next time, okay? It makes Daddy feel better about his stupid life. Now, next time, let's remember that it's traditional to do a hug."

He realised his mistake instantly, as six children and their daemons all bore him - and the baby he'd forgotten he was holding - to the ground.

___________

[kelperine]

“If Jimmy was never there everyone would be fine and Curly would have a happy birthday 🎊 “ WRONG!

Yes Jimmy is a highly reactive catalyst, though switch him for any other man lacking emotional intelligence and we would have gotten the same result in due time.

Curly failed Anya because he can’t make any decisions to save his own crew due to his non confrontational nature. We can say curly loves Anya but it is clear he prioritizes Jimmy over her. He claims to be there for her and then dips the minute it goes against his idea of Jimmy. I love curly, he is my favorite, but I cannot deny that he is a silent enabler.

They were all doomed from the start. Anya is NOT a medic. Her license applies to pony express only and her job was only meant to be the occasional band aid and psych evaluation. A year is way to long to go without a proper doctor. I am in no way blaming her for anything, my poor girl did what she could with the tools she was given. “Anya would curl up with curly on his bed to comfort him after the crash” No she would not, she would sit on the floor and be heartbroken that he did not stick up for her. Let’s keep in mind that she is the only girl on this ship.

Daisuke is the only one to take responsibility, he might be the youngest but he does absolutely everything in his power to make this easier for everyone. I don’t think he has the intention of fixing everything but through being a silly little guy he makes life so much more tolerable. That’s why he dresses silly, that’s why he tries to fix the vents, that’s why he goes ham at game night to cheer Anya up because he knows that she is sad. They might be small acts but it is all that he can do and that is what matters. The whole point of it is that doing something matters.

I don’t blame Swansea for looking after Daisuke first, after all he is his apprentice and he sees him as a kid, making him feel responsible. I like to think that if given more info and time that he would have been there for Anya too.

Just saying “fuck jimbo” let’s the entire game go over your head. Jimmy is no doubt the main problem child here and he is a horrible person for what he did to Anya firstly and everything else. His redemption means nothing. He does not care about Anya. He only cares about the pregnancy because there is now a tangible reminder of what he has done. I’ve seen people say that Jimmy just didn’t want to be a dad when that is not the issue. He does not care that it is a baby. The baby being a baby does not matter, to Jimmy it is just evidence. All he does is run and we can see that by his final usage of the gun.

TLDR: Mouthwash kills 99% of germs but that 1% sure does fuck everything else up.

Don’t get me wrong I love seeing the happy art of everyone but I just wanted to deep dive into the nitty gritty

[zyonsay]

Parisienne im Mund SKI AGGU

Summary: Shooting the Balla Balla MV!

Reader: Genderneutral

Warnings: Smoking

Now playing: 'Balla Balla' by Ski Aggu

AN: Heya everyone! Finally some Ski Aggu content! I feel like there's such a lack of fics about him, which probably is since he's a german artist who doesnt cater to anyone besides german speakers- At least thats how i imagine it?? Anyways! This was really hard to write cuz in my mind lil bro does NOT speak english, which makes it sooo difficult for me to make him speak english. Idk, maybe im just yapping. Alsooo!! I mostly write male readers but i thought since theres barely any ski aggu fics i‘d give a lil treat to fem aligned people too :)

 Die, die ich date, hat uns Karten für die Oper gekauft Doch ich kann heut nicht, weil ich mich mit meinen Govas besauf' Jemand legt mir eine Peitsche, doch die macht mir nichts aus, Weil ich hab' viele tolle Ranzen wie Scout

A row of dressed up people stood around, waiting for their cue. You were currently doing a favor for your friend from Hamburg, Luca. Recently he made more time for his main passion, filming music videos and social media content. Long story short, his buddy needed a bunch of people for a music video and since you owe him a favor, you gladly came along.

Ja, ich bin ein heißer Atze, ich tanz' bauchfrei im Club Hol' meinen Perso raus, doch nicht, weil ich mich ausweisen muss

The camera panned around the entrance of the club and music filled the room. Just beforehand you were personally introduced to the man in whose music video you’d appear.

“Hey, das ist Y/N. Basically meine rechte Hand.” Luca placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you slightly into him while smiling widely. “Oh hey, danke fürs kommen!”, you blinked for a second, your german was sadly quite rusty. “Oh umm, sorry but my german is absolute shit.”, you pursed your lips shyly. The young guy in front of you smiled. “No problem! I’m Aggu by the way.” He held his hand out to dap you up. You interlinked your own hand with his. “Nice to meet you, love your music.” A genuine smile spread across your lips, which he immediately mirrored. He was known to wear a ski mask, but right now you were glad to be able to look into his blueish grey eyes. Something was drawing you to him, maybe his sharp features, his messy blond hair or the crooked but sweet smile. “Thanks! I’ve heard so much about you from Luca.” You tilted your head, nudging your friend who was still next to you. “Only good things, right?”

The smoke machines were going ham and the air inside the rented club was getting way too hot. Someone had brought along a bubble gun, so colorful glycerin blobs now bobbed through the air and occasionally landed on a person’s head. “Ok, nächster Take in 3, 2, 1!” Luca began filming and just how the instructions earlier had said, everybody started jumping around and dancing, mimicking the nightlife at a club. Music boomed trough a speaker, helping Aggu keep the pace and time his gestures correctly. The lights flashed, you purposely spilled your drink while dancing, the messier it looked, the better. It all began to feel more and more like a fever dream. Aggu had lit a cigarette and was wildly gesturing at the camera while singing to the lyrics, the melody of which flowed through the crowd.

Ich rapp' darüber, was in meinem Leben passiert, Treff' 'ne Granate im Backi, die meine Nägel lackiert, woah, mh Sie sagt mir: „Komm, wir gehen von hier“ Weil der Backstage Arsch ist wie ich später bei ihr.

Next up was a scene at the backstage, Luca had insisted stubbornly that you should play in that scene. Two seats were smushed into a corner and a few things were thrown around to make it look messy. You propped yourself in one of those seats, facing Aggu. He was rapping about something something nail polish, but all you knew is that you had to whisper in his ear for a take. Carefully, you leant closer to him, your back was turned against the camera. His scent was intoxicating, a light hint of smoke lingered on him. Feeling a bit cheeky, you laid your hand on the front of his shoulder, practically resting yourself against him. A slight flush spread across your cheeks at the proximity, you were thankful that the camera wasn’t filming your face.

Aggu leant over the bar and let out an exhausted huff. “Fertig!”, Luca grinned from one ear to another. The takes you had now were pretty damn good and even though it was fun, everybody was happy to finish the video shooting. “You ok?” You spun around on one of the barstools. “Hm?”, he hummed while tiredly lifting his head from where he was resting it, buried in his arms. “Yeah, just tired. But I’m happy with how it turned out.” You nodded lightly, stopping your endless spinning. “C’mon, I’ll sponsor you a Cig.” Even under the ski goggles you could see his eyes light up.

You placed a cigarette between your lips and then held out your pack of Parisiennes to him. The two of you were sat on the step of some stairs at the back entrance of the club, your legs touching. “You got fire?”, a slightly embarrassed look flashed over your face. Somehow you always forgot to bring your lighter – or you lose it by the time you need it. “Mhm.” Aggu hummed. He had taken the ski goggles off and once again you found yourself glancing at his eyes. He expected you to take the lighter into your own hands, but you just held your cigarette in place and leaned in towards him. A few strands of hair loosened and fell into your face. He couldn’t help his breath hitching at the closeness, he could smell your cologne. It smelled like green tea mixed with a minty undertone, or to put it differently, a breath of fresh air. It took Aggu a second to register your movement, but he then reached his lighter forward, holding the flame to the cigarette between your lips. The orange light illuminated your face and made it glow; he was mesmerized. Your eyes fluttered open and you caught him looking at you, a slight smile spread across your lips.

Ich bin balla-balla Komplett gaga Parisienne im Mund, ich bin ein toller Macker

With a sweet, slightly stupid grin he lit his own cigarette. A light chuckle escaped you, he seemed to fancy you as much as you fancied him. He took a long drag of his cigarette before leaning against your shoulder, the nicotine rush fuzzing up his mind.

Ich bin balla-balla Komplett gaga Ihr Swag 2010, sie trägt einen Rock mit Brakka

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS IV | CATCHING FEELINGS

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 2,468

summary: you and jamie are a couple...a couple of besties with benefits! that’s definitely all this is. 

A/N: very excited about this one - even though its a little shorter! also wanted to let you all know since i have chapters planned out almost through the end of the season, i have this idea of revisiting chapters and writing “missing scenes” to fill some gaps, like within this one which you’ll see. let me know if you’d be into that?

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

After Jamie showed up at your door the evening following their loss to West Ham, you did not stop sleeping together. Two nights turned into three, and then into four. Once you passed five, you decided to upgrade your relationship to friends with benefits status. Jamie was honestly happy that meant you considered him a friend. 

The two of you usually hooked up after Richmond lost a game, which had unfortunately been happening a lot as of late. Sometimes Jamie would find you after a training session with Roy to relieve some tension. Occasionally you went to Jamie when you were feeling anxious about work or something reminded you of Mason. And while the team mourned the loss of Zava after he announced his retirement, Jamie was the happiest you’d ever seen him. (You think you might have had the best sex of your life that night.)

At some point, you’d added other locations to your repertoire, other than your bedroom and sometimes your shower. On rare occasions you’d meet up in your office for a quickie, or even Jamie’s car in the parking lot after everyone had left when you couldn’t wait to get home. Only once had you tried to spend the night at Jamie’s, but at the crack of dawn, Roy was banging on his door for another practice. That was the last time you did that. 

You had to admit, you got a thrill out of sneaking around. You’d gotten less skittish at the office, sharing secret looks with Jamie during practices. Rebecca was still the only one who knew. A week into your new arrangement, she’d inquired about your situation, which you explained. She still seemed weary, but less so because of Jamie and more so because she didn’t think a casual relationship was the best idea. If you’d asked yourself a year ago, you would have agreed. But now, you kind of enjoyed the lack of pressure surrounding your dynamic. Jamie was obviously very skilled when it came to sex, but he was also fun to be around. Your pillow talk conversations were often the highlights of your day. You’d talk about your days and vent when you’d need to. Sometimes you’d get little nuggets about Jamie’s life and childhood, and you’d let him in on some details about your life as well. The more you got to know him, the more you liked him.

As a friend of course. Rebecca also warned you that if feelings got involved in your situation, things could get messy. But you weren’t worried about it. Sure, you and Jamie playfully flirt from time to time, but you’d do that around the office in plain sight too. It was just Jamie’s thing. This dynamic you had was just innocent, casual fun. That’s what you two agreed to and that's what you wanted. 

Jamie was also enjoying your arrangement. Unbeknownst to you, from the second he saw you, he’d found you appealing. Though, when he’d found out you were working for the team, he thought any chance of hooking up with you was off the table. Then he assumed you were seeing Sam, and he would absolutely never interfere with one of his best mate’s relationship. But when he’d found out you were available, he’d crumbled under the pressure. He got to know you a little bit, which made it harder to initiate anything. That was until you initiated it that night in his car and he couldn’t have been more thrilled. He honestly hadn’t expected it to go further than that night, but he couldn’t resist you. You were addictive, and extremely good at distracting him. Not just when you were fucking - which was mind-blowing - but also during the in-between moments when you’d whisper to each other under the sheets.Your mere presence was so soothing, he wished he could be enraptured in it all the time. 

That’s honestly the worst part of your deal; that it was secret and he couldn’t just wrap you up and listen to you breathe whenever he felt anxious. 

The fact that you have such a hold on him only adds to his anxiousness, though. He knows that your relationship is strictly sexual, but platonic, and he’s not worried about wanting more than that. He knew he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, and wasn’t sure if relationships were something he wanted, at least at this point in his life. But he couldn’t help being attached to you. No one’s ever been so kind to him; so attentive and gentle. So, while your arrangement may be fleeting, he wanted to soak up the affection while he could. 

That’s why he feels so off when he doesn't see you around the club today. 

The team had an early training time, so when he didn’t see you before, he figured you probably just hadn’t arrived yet. But then he didn’t see you around lunch time either. He nonchalantly asked Sam if he’d heard from you, as he spotted him while he lifted weights, but his friend hadn’t heard from you either. That didn’t sit right with him.

He tried texting you after that, not once but twice, but you didn’t answer. That was also out of character. He knew it bothered you when there were red bubbles over your apps, but you hadn’t even read the text. 

As a last ditch effort, he even found himself asking Colin or Isaac if they knew anything but of course they didn’t. 

Jamie was nervously staring at your text chain as he walked out of the locker room at the end of the day. Still nothing. Not looking at where he was going, he ends up running straight into Rebecca. He apologizes distractedly before taking another step towards the door, when she calls out to him. 

“She’s at home.” Jamie looks at her with a quirked eyebrow, so she clarifies by saying your name. “She called in sick so I gave her the day off.”

Though he’s grateful for the information, he fidgets nervously, “How did you…”

“She told me about you two, or rather I figured it out. But I haven’t said a word to anyone else,” she explains reassuringly, “Plus you’ve been wandering around like a lost puppy all day. Wasn’t hard to guess why.” 

Jamie flushes, but smiles tightly in thanks before wishing his boss a goodnight. On his way to run some spur of the moment errands, he wonders what kind of things you’ve told Rebecca. 

As the sun sets for the night, you’re finally forcing yourself out of bed. 

You weren’t sick sick. You were on your period, and this morning you’d woken up with a migraine and some of the worst cramps you’ve had in a while. It wasn’t uncommon for you to feel this bad every couple of months, but when it got this severe, there was no way you could function as a human being. So you made yourself persevere through the pain for a few moments to call Rebecca and explain the situation at hand. She was quick to suggest you stay home, and while you weren’t surprised, you still adored her for understanding. Best boss ever. 

When your pain is bad, you can only stomach so much food, so you just pick on things like crackers to hold you over. Now that it was nearing dinner time, and your headache had finally subsided, you were ravenous. You quickly search for nearby pizza places and select the first thing that comes up on Google and place a delivery order. 

While you wait, you curl up with a blanket on your couch and turn on one of your favorite Grey’s Anatomy episodes. You’re only ten minutes in when there’s a knock on your door. You begrudgingly stand up, impressed that your pizza had come so fast. When you pull the door open, you instead find Jamie standing there with a bag of groceries. 

“You’re not pizza.”

Jamie narrows his eyes at you, “And you don’t look sick.” 

Your shoulders sag, “Rebecca told you?” 

Jamie nods, “Yeah, I was worried. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Your heart warms. You pull your door open wider, and he doesn’t hesitate to enter. 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you shove your hands in your sweatshirt pocket awkwardly, “I’m actually not technically sick, just on my period, which I’m sure is exactly what you want to hear.”

Jamie surprises you by not visibly reacting to your admission.

“Damn, I wish I’d known that, otherwise I would have picked up different things.” he draws your attention back to the paper grocery bag in his hands as he sets it on your coffee table. He starts pulling out items as he lists them off, “I got you some soup, some tissues, a shit-ton of different medicines because I didn’t know what kind of sick you were. Some gummy bears, but that’s just cause I know you like those.” 

You try not to be overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Aw, Jamie, you didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs, not making direct eye contact, “Sorry most of it's not very helpful. Although, this might still work?” He pulls one last thing from the brown brag: a carton of Neapolitan ice cream. 

You gasp, immediately taking the item into your hands. “You are a saint. I will be saving this for later.” 

Jamie smiles as he follows you to the kitchen where you transfer the ice cream to the freezer. It's at this moment he also realizes you’re wearing one of his Richmond sweatshirts he must’ve left behind one night. He keeps this realization to himself.

“D’you say you ordered pizza?”

“Yeah. You’re welcome to stay if you want, there’ll be plenty.  

“Where from?”

“Uhh,” you scratch your head trying to recall the name of the place, “Pizzeria Pellegrini, I think?”

Jamie groans, “That place is rubbish, you should have ordered from Lucia’s.”

For some reason, a small smile makes its way on your face, “I’m sorry I didn’t consult you first, Mr. Pizza Expert.”

“Well, now you know,” Jamie pulls out his phone and begins tapping up a storm.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Ordering us a pizza from Lucia’s. You like pepperoni, right?”

“Jamie,” you gasp exaggeratedly, “I already ordered one. It will be here any minute.”

“Well, now you’ll have two, so save room. I’ll get express delivery. I need you to try both so you know which is superior.” he snickers and you roll your eyes, “Anything else I should get?”

You shake your head amusedly, but still ask, “Can you get me a side of ranch, please?” 

Jamie scoffs, “Aren’t you getting some with your first order?”

Okay, he knows you too well. 

“Yeah, but every restaurant has a specific ranch. I can’t have Lucia pizza with Pellegrini ranch, that’s insane.” 

He gives you a crazy look, “No, I think you’re insane.” 

“Look, I’m right and you’re just going to have to deal with it.” 

Jamie shakes his head, but bites back a laugh. He orders you a pepperoni pizza with extra ranch. 

As you lead him back to the couch, you catch him up on your evening plans of binging Grey’s.

“But we don’t have to watch if you don’t want to. We can watch something else, or…”

Jamie sits beside you on the couch and shrugs, “You’re the one feeling like shit, we can do whatever you want.” 

“Alright, then buckle up, Tartt,” you chuckle, pressing play on the remote.

As the episode continues, Jamie asks questions about what is happening and who the characters are. Normally, you’d be annoyed with the constant talking over the show, but you like that he seems genuinely interested. So you fill him in on what has happened in the episode so far, and some backstory for the characters. 

“Wait so there’s a bomb in that person’s body?” “Yup.” And then he’s hooked.

Both of your pizzas arrive at different points during the two-part episode, and you give in and admit his pizza place is better. You even let him share your ranch dressing. However, your eyes widen in horror when he goes to dip a piece of Lucia’s pizza into Pellegrini’s ranch.

“What the hell are you doing?” you exclaim, sitting up slightly. 

“I’m going to prove your theory wrong,” Jamie scoffs, shoving the slice into his mouth. 

You watch in anticipation and smirk in satisfaction when he frowns. 

“Okay, you’re right. This is wrong.” he immediately switches out the cups of ranch.

You bob your head up and down, “Yeah, it's sacrilegious.”

“Each ranch just compliments its own pizza so well!”

You press your hand to your chest and smile, “You get me.” 

After dinner, the two of you treat yourself to bowls of ice cream and settle back into the couch. Jamie lets you lay across it, while your feet rest in his lap. With Grey’s Anatomy becoming background noise, you two chat quietly. Jamie tells you about his day and how stressed out the team has been with all the losses.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you destress tonight,” you joke, referring to your usual nighttime activities that are being cockblocked by your favorite week of the month. 

Jamie chuckles, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle. “S’alright. Just being here’s made me feel better.” 

You look at Jamie thoughtfully as he continues staring at your television screen. Before you’re really aware of what you’re doing, you sit up and plant a light kiss on his cheek.

He turns to you a little caught off guard, but not bothered. “What was that for?”

“Just because.” 

You go back in for a kiss on his lips this time, and he immediately reciprocates. When you pull back, you give him a shy smile before laying back down on the couch, wrapping your blanket around you, and turning back to your comfort show. Out of your peripherals you can see a small smirk settle on Jamie’s face as he refocuses on Grey’s Anatomy as well. 

You’re proud that you pulled that off nonchalantly because inside you were feeling anything but. An uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach as you come to the realization that that wasn’t just a casual kiss. You kissed Jamie because you wanted to, not just as a prelude to sex. All night he’d been attentive to your needs, genuinely interested in hearing what you had to say even when it was nonsensical ramblings about a show you liked, and just an overall sweetheart. The more you think about it, he was always like this when you two were together, even when he was teasing you. It didn’t help that he also looked especially good tonight. 

Holy shit, were you…falling for him? When you explicitly said you weren’t going to?  

Well this certainly won’t end well. 

A/N: this apartment scene and the car scene from part two are the first things i thought of and inspired this whole story :’) can’t wait to know what you guys think!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster​ @geek-and-proud​ @grippleback-galaxy​ @lalla-04p​ @gabbycoady13​ @royalestrellas​ @qardasngan​ @creationcitystreet-em​ @percysaidnever​ @emily-b​ @mrfitzsimmons​ @k-n-e​ @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25​ @escapismqueen​ @scaramou @beardsplitter @gcidrvsh @ringpopdust @marveltg365 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3

[yagirlraee]

I COULD BE YOUR GIRL, GIRL, GIRL!

summary: it was just another humid summer night when you decided to go to a concert hosted by no one other than your favorite band, manipulation. with your celebrity crush, choso kamo, as the lead guitarist. but what will happen when he spots you in the crowd, and invites you backstage?

wc: ...

track 1: backstage

the waves of people feel overwhelming paired with the ear splitting rock music emitting from the stage. bright spotlights are roaming the floors, the walls, and the ceiling and occasionally blinding the crowd. sweaty bodies are a little too close to each other, but it didn't matter. not with the beauty of a man on stage going ham on his electric bass guitar.

choso kamo. that was the name of the lead guitarist of the band, Manipulation. along with the lead singer, suguru geto. the drummer, ino takuma. and the back up guitarist, sukuna ryomen. every single member of the band was attractive, but choso just stood out amongst the others to you. and you had absolutely no clue why. maybe it was the symmetrical tattoo on his face, or maybe his pigtails, or was it his milky skin tone? who knew.. no one actually except for you.

you knew you were in love when you didn't have to scream his name like all his other fangirls. you just simply admired his face, and it really helped you out when your friend said that she had scored some affordable front row seat tickets. and you swore you felt your heart skip a few beats when he looked at you for a little too long.

when the show was coming to an end, when most of the conjoined groups got even more excited, you make that same eye contact with the lead guitarist again.

"hey!" a voice echoes throughout the occupied stadium through a microphone.

you, as well as your friends, wonder who he's talking to. but there suguru is, pointing at you and your friends with one hand, and clenching the microphone in the other. yet the crowd is still confused, and it goes noticeably quieter as the crowd mumbles and looks at one another. you see suguru turn away from the mic and tell one of the bodyguards something, and then turns and gives choso a somewhat secretive smile that you don't seem to notice.

and out of nowhere, you feel yourself getting pulled up onto the stage in front of you. out of a mixture of panic and excitement, you whip your head around and get momentarily blinded by the spotlight. but before you can protest, you're getting nudged to the back of the stage and behind the curtain.

where are you? where are your friends? what was in your hand..? a backstage pass, when did you obtain this anyway? and how long did you have to wait back here? there were way too many questions flowing through your head. and man were your shoes killing you. but luckily the band was on their last song.

shortly after their show, after they thanked all of their fans for coming, you saw the four men come backstage. the presence in the room changed, and it was obvious. you shifted nervously in the creaky, black plastic chair you were given, while also fidgeting with your fingers.

the band members gave each other knowing looks and were quickly shooed away by choso. he grabbed a similar chair from the corner and flicked it out. he situated next to you in a manspread and finally made eye contact with you, but it was nervous. he was nervous.

but why? he was a rockstar rising to the top, yet he wasn't quite there yet. more of a local band, but they already had tons of fans.

"i, uhm, i don't think i do this with a lot of people. but my bandmates saw how i looked at you apparently." he rambles. "don't really know what they mean by that.."

and he's so antsy you can't help but let out a little giggle. he stops his muttering and looks up at you. you swiftly look away and place your hand over your mouth to refrain from laughing any longer. and he doesn't know it, but seeing you smile makes him let out a light hearted chuckle. yet he's never met you before, so what was this feeling?

"so," he straightens up. "could i get your number.. maybe?"

and oh did you ever so gladly give it to him, but it was very sudden. exchanging numbers already? maybe for a first date, hopefully for a first date.

he stood up and reached his hand out to you, and you placed yours on top, using it as leverage to get up. you dusted yourself off and pause as you realize, your friends probably left. and you don't blame them, you've been back here for who knows how long. but with that, you didn't even have a ride home.

and choso could sense your nervousness as you shuffle around in your place, noticeably spacing out.

"are you okay?" he says, trying to get you to look at him in his eyes.

you snap out of the trance you're in and nod, "yeah, uhm, i just was wondering if there's any bus stops nearby?"

he laughs, "you don't have a ride?"

he really was just joking, but when he saw you start to chew on your lip, he realized you really didn't have a ride home. so of course he offered you one, and being the lovesick human you were, you accepted.

so what if he was possibly a serial killer on the hunt for more victims? he was cute, so it didn't matter. he grabbed his keys and jingled them, signaling that he had a matte black camaro waiting in the parking lot for the two of you.

track 2: ...

[local-new-kid-super]

Little things Professor Chaos does for New Kid! Reader after a battle.

Sorry this took me a bit, been busy!

☆ First things first, Professor Chaos knows the most important part of turning the tides in battle is minions. Taking care of your legion is important, so before his Chaos army packs up after a fight, Butters is going to be checking up on each of his Chaos army members. He's picked up minimal spanish from his time as Mantequilla, so he checks on his hired workers and the dogs wrapped in tin foil. Catch him handing out tinfoil covered juice boxes and ham sandwiches, or little 'Princess Kenny' brand bandaids.

☆ You're a hero, so he's not technically supposed to patch you up, but that doesn't mean he wants to hurt you! He'll avoid directly attacking you, and might occasionally drop a healing item or two onto the floor.

☆ He admires you so much! You're a real hero, not just someone doing it for money or fame (like a certain Trash-panda themed hero). A part of him worries you could never really be his friend because of his love for chaos, but, surely if you knew what he'd been through you'd understand.

☆ "You're impressive moves, and good looks are no match for Chaos, New Kid!"

"Good looks? Thats fucking gay, Chaos." Raccoon says, and Chaos founders.

"Aw geez..."

☆ You'll frequently end up 'kidnapped' and taken to the U-Stor-It for interrogation, but Professor Chaos seems to have no desire to figure out what Raccoon and Friends are actually up too.

☆"Mwahaha! Foolish hero, you've allowed yourself to get caught up in the chaos of battle! Now you're officially my prisoner." Professor Chaos cackles, a crack of lighting crosses the sky as he stops laughing and seems to grow a bit awkward. "Uh, I'm gonna interrogate you now, okay? Don't go anywhere, I gotta get my minions for back up-" About half an hour later, he's having you aid his 'villainy' by feeding carrot sticks to his sweet gerbil minions.

"So, new kid, what kind of... what kind stuff does a hero do when they have free time? You know, and who do they, uh, who do they hang out with?"

[benedictscanvas]

hi!! i would love a jamie comforting the reader fic <33 i know this is so so vague LOL but i love a good comfort moment 🫶

so do i anon, this is right up my street! i hope this is similar to what you what looking for <3 this is partly based on some of the scenes at the recent west ham europe final which was just crazy | 1.8k words, tw fighting, reader gets caught & hurt in the middle, language, hurt/comfort

4-0 to Richmond was exactly the result that everyone needed; the players, the coaches, everyone surrounding the club. It had been a tricky few months, results coming and going, but to get a strong win against a mid-table club felt like a step in the right direction after the winter break. From your spot up in the owners’ box, you could see how ecstatic the boys’ celebrations were on the pitch, and you were practically matching them, jumping around with Rebecca, Keeley and the Higgins’.

During their lap around the pitch to clap the fans, Jamie waved at you like a madman while you blew him kisses, both giddy. He made a C with his hand, which always meant to meet him in the private staff car park as soon as possible, and you nodded furiously so that he’d see.

“Meeting Jamie in the car park?” Keeley asks, still grinning as you nod yet again, “I’ll meet Roy there too. It’ll probably only be a twenty minute team talk before they’re allowed a bit of family time after such a good fucking win.”

“Then let’s go!” you laugh, bending down to pick up your handbag.

Something hits you right in the forehead. Hard.

You stumble backwards with nowhere to go, ending up half on the floor, with one arm holding yourself up against your seat. Your vision was swimming, but you could make out an object by your feet that looked like a water bottle, but it must have been almost full to cause such an impact.

“Shit, babe!” Keeley was exclaiming, quick to crouch down to you, “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, still a little dazed, but your vision was clearing quickly. It had hit you in the temple, and the shock was staving off some of the pain for now, but you still wavered a little when you let Keeley help you up, “What the fuck?”

“I don’t-”

There was something else flying towards the box and this time, you and Keeley had the sense to duck down and cover your heads. Higgins was shielding his wife, you saw, while Rebecca was trying to usher people inside. When you risked a look downwards at the stands, there were a few men, clearly from the opposing team, who’d decided to make their frustrations with their team known, a small brawl underway between them and the unlucky Richmond fans they’d come across. It was only getting worse each passing second. Feeling something kick in within you, you turn and rush to the doorway, shouting for the security in the hospitality area to follow you back outside as you pointed towards what was happening.

It was at this point more and more security were alerted, and soon, there were enough of them to form a barrier between the two sets of fans, even though insults were still being thrown, along with the occasional plastic cup, water bottle and even one phone. Unable to drag yourself away until you knew the Richmond fans were safe, despite Keeley tugging at you to leave, you spot a woman with her little girl in the fray, looking scared out of their skin even as it died down. You manage to free yourself of Keeley as you step over the low barrier and make your way down the steps to them, pushing past whoever you needed to.

“Hey, this way, yeah?” you said to them softly, reaching for the little girl and picking her up as you carried her back towards the owners’ box along with her mother. There was a particularly angry opposition fan you passed on the way, and even though a security guard was holding him back, he still managed to get a grip on your arm, scratching down the length of it as you brought your arm up to keep the girl safe. Ignoring the fresh pain, you get them inside, then look back for any more people in need.

Higgins had clearly had the same thought as you, leading a group of young boys into the owners’ box to escape things. Soon enough, Rebecca was opening up the barrier and letting the Richmond fans leave through hospitality if they were close enough, with the rest slipping out through an exit behind them while security kept hold of the small group of awful fans. It was finally over, and whilst you’d lost the mother and girl in the crowd, you knew they were safe and it was enough.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Keeley asks, then hisses when you look up at her, “Fucking hell. We need to get you to one of the medics, now.”

“It’s not so bad, I promise. Probably looks worse,” you say, trying to reassure her and yourself, because by the look on her face you must have looked pretty bad, “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Keeley shook her head solemnly as she linked arms with you, presumably to steer you towards a medic despite your protests. You’d been attending matches long before you started dating Jamie, but you’d still never experienced anything like that.

Jamie. You hope he hadn’t still been on the pitch when that started, because you knew he’d be beside himself.

“Where the fuck is she? Y/N? Fuckin’ get off me!”

Your heart drops into your stomach when you hear him, how frantic he sounds. You turn towards the staircase, now clear of fans again, and see him running up the steps, followed by a guard trying to stop him and failing miserably. He scans the room before his eyes land on you and his whole body deflates with relief as he jogs over. Keeley takes a step back as he takes you firmly in his arms, clutching you to him as tightly as he ever had. You can feel your own body relaxing under his touch.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jamie speaks into your neck, still clinging to you just as you were to him, “We were jus’ leavin’ the pitch and then someone points and you’re gettin’ shit fuckin’ thrown at ya? Wait, did they get you, baby?”

He leans back to inspect you, eyes immediately zoning in on your forehead with misery in his eyes. You see his bottom lip quiver and you’re quick to try and pull him back into you but he’s stock still in shock as he stares. It must’ve been a really bad lump if this was the reaction you were getting.

“Jamie, I’m fine,” you say slowly, tipping his chin towards you to make sure he’s looking in your eyes rather than at your injury, “All fine. I promise.”

“Y’ not fuckin’ fine,” he murmurs, ghosting a finger over the bump. You shiver, “We’re gettin’ this checked, yeah?”

“That’s what I said,” Keeley pipes up, still standing off to the side, “Actually, I’ll go get someone. You two stay here, avoid everyone staring at…”

She trails off as she gestures vaguely to your forehead and you giggle at her as she leaves. So it definitely looked bad. You bring your own hand up to touch it, but immediately regret the pain that flares up in its wake. Jamie was quick to reach up and pull your own hand away, kissing each knuckle, then each fingertip. Slow, reverent. You melt into him as much as you can whilst standing up.

“Tried to climb the barriers,” he admits quietly, “I couldn’t see ya, jus’ all the pricks who started everythin’ and I needed to- I dunno. Some prick guard pulled me away.”

“I’m very glad he did,” you soothe, “You can’t score a hat trick and get in a fight all in the same day. Hope this doesn’t steal any of your praise away.”

“Couldn’t give a fuck about the match,” he says, frustrated, “You’re hurt, babe. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wish he hadn’t asked twice. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re starting to feel a bit of that panic you should have had in the moment creeping in. You nod your head yes, but don’t trust yourself to speak. Jamie understands immediately.

“Oh babe,” he says quietly, stroking a hand up and down your neck, “It’s okay. Promise. I‘m so sorry I wasn’t ‘ere for ya, like.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, a little choked, enough that he’s pulling you into him again, wrapping you in another crushing hug. It’s just the right amount of pressure to make you feel better, breathing him in and holding him close.

“‘Course you’ll be fine. Got me, ain’t ya?” he says, pulling a laugh from you just as he’d hoped. He leads you over to one of the sofas near the window and sits you down, wrapping you right up in his arms again once your settled, knees tucked into his chest as he tugs you into his lap.

“Really proud of you,” you say quietly, and he just kisses the top of your head, clearly unwilling to discuss the match as he rubs a hand down your arm. But it’s the one some dickhead clawed at, and you can’t hide your wince. Jamie clocks it immediately and peers down at your arm.

“Little fuckers,” he snarls, but you know there isn’t any anger directed at you, “How’d they get this fuckin’ close to ya, love?”

Ah. You didn’t think he’d like this part of the story.

“There was this little girl and her mum, down in the stands. I couldn’t just leave them there, Jamie,” you stare up at him, almost pleading for him to understand, “I grabbed them and brought them out through here. I know, it was stupid, but-”

The tears in his eyes stop you from continuing. You put a hand on his face but he shakes you away, clearing his throat.

“Jus’ don’t know how I got meself such a fuckin’ gem,” he says, laughing wetly at himself, “I wish you hadn’t got fuckin’ hurt, god, but I jus’- you’re so good, you know?”

You glow under his praise, settling into his side so he can’t see you grinning at his words. You tug his arm around you and place a series of kisses along his bicep and back down again.

“You would’ve done the same,” you say, meaning every word, “You’re good too, Jamie.”

“Guess I must be,” he agrees breathily, pressing kiss after kiss into the top of your head, “I’ll make sure I am for you, y’ know? And I’ll take care of ya too, y’ know that right?”

“Yeah I know, Jamie.”

You sink even further into his embrace, aimlessly hoping that the medic never comes and that you might just be able to stay like this forever.

---

aaah if you read this far i love you!! i've been away in london so i'm sorry for the inactivity - i will catch up on asks tomorrow and am posting this right before i sleep so i am at least feeding you some content!! and then lots of drabbles to come this weekend <3 <3

[bunnyhoney111]

new song.

eddie munson x fem!best friend!reader

desc.: you guys are always a bit too honest when you’re high, and you whine about being horny, my casual sexuality kink

warnings: uhh lots of soup making on your end, eddie being a little too laid back, KINDA and i mean BARELY dub-con just for the very end; he doesn't do anything to her he just does something(?), kinda-ish friends with benefits situation.

request: no ma'am, no ham, no turkey- exTREMELY self-indulgent.

w/c: 968

a/n: i've been writing this for over the course of two-ish years now, just finished it as i want to get back to tumblr now 😭😭😔. i hope it's good enough to reinstate some of my audience. it's also a leetle short sorry folks

“eddie, ‘m horny,” you whined- drawling out his name, squirming in your place next to him on the bed. he was writing lyrics in his notebook to a song he’d been working on. he reached over pressed a hand into your stomach to stop you.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, but i’m not sure what you want me to do about that,” he didn’t spare you a glance, his hand returning to the notebook.

“it hurts,” you sighed, crossing your arms under your chest. you could feel the swelling of your clit as blood rushed to the area, you’d always felt this way when you got high.

“go to the bathroom, make soup,” he said, still running his eyes over the words and occasionally erasing to correct a line or a verse.

“ew.”

“im sorry, rub one out, flick the bean, choke your chicken-“ he continued throwing slang at you with a giggle as he finally looked over at your glistening face. your pupils were dilated almost to the point of hiding all the color in your irises, and your mouth opened to cut him off.

“it’s not that easy for girls, its not just one and done, and i certainly couldn’t cum in your dingy bathroom, freak.” you’d called him that out of endearment, it didn’t sting like usual when it came from you.

“well, do it there then,” he stated casually, flipping between pages. you whipped your head towards him, when he doesn’t look back towards you, you let out a scoff at his suggestion.

“what? i don’t mind, i’m not even paying attention.” he glanced at you as he spoke, before returning to his scrawled handwriting.

you still couldn’t tell if he was joking, but you couldn’t seem to care as your thighs started to rub together, trying to resist the urge to reach into your underwear and satisfy the ache.

eddie notices your hesitance, and your shifting thighs, and places his notebook down momentarily before moving to his knees in front of you. without a word, or so much as a glance he brings his hands to grasp at the waist of your shorts. he nodded to you slightly, his eyes still trained downwards, prompting you to lift your hips.

he slides them down with ease, pulling your underwear down with them. he pushes your thight apart, using two fingers to spread you out, you simply waiting for his next move; too high to question his motives. too needy. he splays his palm towards you, waiting for your hand.

you gave him your hand, but he grasped your wrist, and he guided your fingertips to rest against your throbbing clit, pressing them with his into your bud and assisting the slow circular motion. you gasp at the pressure, and soon enough eddies climbing away from you, removing his hand from yours.

you continue the movements he’d been guiding you with, as he nestles back into his spot and continues writing in his notebook, short glances strewn your way every time you whimpered.

“shit,” you cursed, your forefinger dipping down into your yet untouched hole. the squelching from between your legs was filthy, and it caught eddies attention- along with the borderline pornographic moan.

his eyes stray from the notebook, down to your soaked core. his lip is pulled between his teeth and he lets out a hiss at the sight- his dick hardening at an astounding pace in his pants.

with your eyes closed you don't seem to notice as he begins rubbing his hard-on through his pajama pants- one hand still holding the notebook open. he listens carefully to your blissful moans and whimpers of his name as if he were the one touching you.

it was only fate that the song he'd been writing was about some fucked up version of a one night stand with a friend- he glances back at the words and without hesitation he pushes himself off of the bed and walks to his dresser.

"mmm, what're ya doin' ed?" your eyes crack open to see him grabbing something. he walks back to you with one hand behind his back, his other clutching the now closed notebook at his side.

he tossed the book to his side of the bed, still watching your hands ministrations to your cunt.

"shhh, don't talk- just let me hear you."

you don't hesitate to let out another guttural moan, fingers deep inside yourself, staring directly at him.

his eyes go wild and his smiles so wide you can't imagine his cheeks aren't sore. "say my name, pretty please." you hear a soft click and before you can question it you're squirming and pulsing around your own fingers.

you revel in your release, letting out that same pornographic moan that had caught his attention before and let out a breathy scream of his name. "eddie, please!"

sweat beaded your forehead, you gasp to catch your breath as you slowly remove your fingers- a sick squelch coming from your pussy before you hear that click again.

eddie pulls his hand from behind his back, a tape-recorder cemented in his palm. he plays it back to you, and you shrivel with embarrassment as the moan of his name and the sounds of your own body play back to you.

"ugh, you ass!" you quickly lurch forward and grab it from his hand and flip him off threatening to erase the recorded sound.

"hey! don't you dare, i need that." he snatches it back from your grasp. you give him a questioning glance, your left eyebrow perched higher than the other and an almost-frown as you tilt your head slightly.

there go those wild eyes of his, once more, followed by a short- sharp smack to your ass, "for your feature on my soon-to-be latest, and greatest, banger."