#this was bitchin' hell yeah

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Pony, Steve, 'n Soda all use bitchin' REGULARLY

[supersecretnerd]

Ok so these designs are cute as hell, the Internet is just mean

I have too many thoughts about a game I still need to watch

[gloriousmonsters]

when technically you and other fans agree on a character's mental health in general premise but they only ever get written with the more sympathetic traits of whatever diagnosis... not hate and hell but like. mild dislike and faintly irritating purgatory on the planet earth

[shushmal]

"Holy shit, Ed," Steve hisses. "We're going to die."

Eddie, teeth chattering, rolls his eyes. "No, we're not, you big baby," he says. Sure, it's January and there's a foot of snow outside and the heater in their little shithole apartment is dead. But they're not going to die. "Go get under the electric blanket."

Steve shuffles off, still complaining. "You won't love me anymore if my toes fall off. You'll call me stump feet and leave me for a man with 10 more toes than me."

"Oh my god," Eddie says, laughing. Steve's lucky he's cute. "I'll love you even if both your legs fall off."

"Will you love me if I'm dead? Because I'm going to die."

"Oh, just you now?" Eddie turns on the burners and the oven, opens the oven door wide, and starts a pot of water boiling.

"I forgot you're indestructible. Unkillable."

"Hell yeah I am. Like a vampire."

"Or a roach."

"Wow, maybe I won't make any hot chocolate afterall."

"Eddie, nooo," Steve whines, instantly pitiful. "Baby, I love you and all your roach qualities. They're my favorite qualities."

"Okay, fuck you, I'm making hot chocolate for myself."

"Nooo," Steve wails. From the couch, Eddie can see him flopping over dramatically, already burritoed in two blankets. "I am forsaken. Left to despair and desolation. Banished into the cold, chocolate-less night."

"Damn, we've really expanded your vocabulary."

"Fuck you," Steve says, before falling back to whining. "Will anyone save me? Will anyone take this cold, weary soul into his arms? Where is my roach prince?"

Eddie, face hurting from grinning, takes over two mugs to the couch. "Here you goof, now quit bitchin.'"

"My prince! In all his gross, buggy glory!"

"Oh my god, shut up!"

[saquesha13]

!!Tattoo artist Eddie!!

Steve never imagined himself as a tattoo kind of guy. But back in ‘85 after the mall fire, he ended up getting a small matching tattoo with Robin. Just a simple little ice cream cone on his inner wrist - Robin’s idea really. Something about almost burning to death together in a fire really seemed fitting for matching permeant ink on their skin.

It opened Steve’s eyes, changed his perspective, widened his horizons if you will on the whole idea of a tattoo.

Even just a dumb ass ice cream cone that bystanders see on his wrist, that they probably assume means jack shit but in reality it means the whole world to Steve - is pretty fucking cool.

So, Steve hears about this really talented tattoo artist in Chicago and knew he wanted this guy to do his next piece.

The shop is smaller than Steve expected, smack dead in the center of the city and Steve arrived 30 minuets early to his appointment because he was pretty damn nervous.

This tattoo is not as… innocent as his matching ice cream cone with Robbie’s. It isn’t as meaningful either…

Well, okay, it still has meaning, but only to Steve. He isn’t the kind of guy to get a tattoo just because. Tattoos are expensive first of all, and he doesn’t want his entire body covered in ink. That just isn’t his style. But a peek of a tattoo here and there? Yeah, that’s not bad, that what El would call bitchin’.

“Steve? Eddie is ready for you.” The petite blonde at the front desk smiled, her warm bubbly aurora feeling so oddly displaced in a shop like this, so far from what Steve was expecting.

“Ah, okay, thanks uh…”

“Chrissy.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes before pushing back the black beaded curtain leading to the back room.

“Thank you, Chrissy.” Steve hoped this girl couldn’t see just now nervous he was as he ducked between the beads. He was just starting to let his eyes roam around the gothic decor of the room when the hottest fucking man Steve has ever seen walks in, taking thick chunky rings off his pale fingers and putting them in the pocket of his skin tight black jeans.

Once his rings are safely put away, he tugs the thick dark curls off of his shoulders and tied it up on his head in a knot, some strands poke out framing his face.

“Steve, right?” The sexy man speaks, apparently. His deep voice sounded like honey and pure bliss to Steve’s hears. A smile stretches across his lips making the dimples - of fucking course he has dimples - poke out on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve apparently broke at the sight of this man, because seriously who the hell does this guy think he is coming in looking like THAT?! His voice cracked when he tried to speak making his cheeks turn rosey shade of pink and he had to clear his throat before properly speaking.

“U-Uh, yeah, me is Steve. I-I mean, I am Steve.” He would smack his own forehead with his hand if Eddie wasn’t busy holding it, giving him a nice firm handshake. Steve’s face was burning.

Scratch smacking face, Steve wishes he could just bash his head in on the brick decorative wall in the corner. Put him out of his misery. He’s doing a mighty fine job at humiliating himself already.

“This your first time?” Eddie smirked, his voice somehow dropping lower than it was before.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, clearly confused, no lights on in his brain as his eyes darted between Eddie’s huge brown eyes to the tattoo peaking out under the v-neck of his black long sleeve shirt. God he wished he could see what that tattoo actually was, maybe lick it.

“Your first time getting a tattoo.” Eddie clarified, the smirk never leaving his face as he finally let go of Steve’s sweaty palm.

“Oh, no actually. I’ve had - “ Steve cleared his throat again, trying his dammed hardest to chill the fuck down. “Had got another tattoo before this one.”

“So, you’re not a virgin then?” Eddie winked as he slid on his rubber gloves, covering up the black inked tattoos on his broad hands that Steve suddenly wished he looked at before they were gone from his sight. Then he realized what Eddie just said and his head snapped up to the playful look on Eddie’s face.

Shit. Is Eddie actually flirting with him? Is this how Eddie speaks to all of his clients? Or has Steve finally lost his marbles?

“Nope, defiantly not a virgin.” Steve watched Eddie’s movements closely as he finalized setting up his supplies, grabbing the stencil of Steve’s tattoo. “Not a virgin with tattoos either.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, something gleaming in his dark eyes that makes Steve’s levi’s suddenly feel a little too tight. The grin on Eddie’s face is down right sinful. “Well, Steve, as long as the sketch looks good to you and you are still good with the placement, we can get started.”

Steve leans over and looks down at Eddie’s sketch of what he had requested sitting in Eddie’s gloved hands. Just looking at the two words, at the way Eddie wrote the font knowing it was his work that will be forever on Steve’s body has Steve’s blush refusing to go away.

“Uh, cool. Okay. Yeah it looks good, really good.” Steve had to lean over Eddie’s shoulder to fully see the entire page, not that it was really necessary.

“Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Eddie gestured with his chin to the left, where the tattooing bed was. “Make sure you get those jeans off first,” Eddie huffed out a laugh as Steve was about to settle down on his belly, his face turning beat red in embarrassment feeling idiotic.

“You do want your ass tattooed still, right?” Eddie asked, his voice smug at the flustered look on Steve’s face.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. That is why I am here.” Steve scoffed, wondering why the hell he is blushing like a teenage girl in this sexy ass man’s presence. Usually Steve is the one making people blush, not the other way around.

“I don’t usually undress my clients… but I would for you.” Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip, making damn sure that Steve’s face stayed tomato red as Steve swore he saw Eddie look at him from head to toe.

He had to take a deep breath to get his damn body to cooperate downstairs before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly so he can scoot the denim and his grey briefs down over the curve of his ass leaving them just barley covering his junk in the front and staying on his legs.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he climbed on the bed on his stomach, not trusting his voice whatsoever as his eyes said more than enough, keeping them planted on Eddie’s.

“This good?” He rested his chin on his hands, his entire bare ass out in the open, wondering why the hell Jonathan Byers failed to mention how damn hot his favorite tattoo artist was.

Eddie for once seemed a little lost for words. He doesn’t stay in the room when his clients undress, it’s unprofessional. He never ever offers to take their clothes off for them either. But for some reason his feet stopped working the second Steve’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans.

“Absolutely perfect, pretty boy.” Eddie damn near purred, wondering how he lucked out, to be the one to tattoo this angels ass. Getting fucking payed to touch his ass. To tattoo the words Bite Me on his juicy round cheeks.

It isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo tattooing someone’s butt cheeks. He’s done almost every body part at this point in his tattooing career. But fuck, no client has ever affected him, not like this.

“Skins sensitive here.” Eddie licked his lips as he stepped close to the bed, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could really feel Steve as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin before putting the shaving cream along his ass, shaving the light colored peach fuzz right off his literal peach. “Need numbing cream, sweetheart?”

“No. Don’t need numbing cream. Wanna feel it.” Steve hummed, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Steve’s red face has faded to pink, finally calming down a bit trying to sit still so he isn’t wiggling his ass in Eddie’s face - not that he thinks Eddie would really mind too much if he did.

Eddie muttered something under his breath, his hands stilling over his ass from where he was wiping the shaving cream away with surprisingly soft hands.

It’s funny, Steve came in set on only getting one tattoo. But as he laid here on the bed, the tattoo gun buzzing as the needles push against his ass, all he can think about is coming back, getting more ink on his body, all over his tan skin as an excuse to come back and see Eddie.

To come back and get Eddie’s hands on him.

But when his appointment was over - much sooner than Steve would have liked - turns out he didn’t need to come back here.

Because Eddie invited him to go home with him.

[cielie-voss]

Fixing the view

Eddie Munson x optician!reader

A/N: I was just bored at work, okay? And my first contact lenses customer being some dangerously cute guy wasn't helping at all. I know, this one's a bit specific, but I just felt like writing it.

Summary: When Eddie’s contact lenses become an unexpected issue during a night in with friends, you step in to help, revealing a softer side of Eddie you hadn’t noticed before. What starts as a simple favor quickly becomes a quiet, intimate moment, leaving both of you questioning if there’s more beneath the playful banter.

Warnings: Brief eye contact discomfort, Mild physical contact (touching face, applying eye drops), slight romantic tension, reader being an optician

Taglist: @violettsoul @evileyeandthecattywhumps

Masterlist

Wordcount: 817

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

You hadn’t exactly planned on spending your Friday evening in someone's basement, but when Gareth asked you to join them after their gig you couldn’t say no either. With your beer in hand, you were trying to follow Gareth’s theory about Jar Jar Binks actually being a Sithlord, but your focus was quickly shattered as you noticed Eddie Munson blinking way too much than what would be normal.

“Hey Munson,” you called out, cocking your head as you faced him. “Are you trying to tell me some secret in morse code for the past thirty minutes or what the hell is wrong with you?”

Eddie stiffened, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks he awfully tried to cover by feigning indifference. “It’s nothing, really. I think I just fucked up my contact lenses,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your eyebrow arched and couldn’t help that amused smile creeping across your lips. “How the hell did you do that?”, you said, crossing your arms and giving him a look that dared him to answer. But he just shrugged, clearly hoping you wouldn’t push any further.

But much to his dismay you stood up, moving toward him with that I’m done with your crap look. “Alright, let me see. No way I’m going to watch you squint like that for the rest of the night.”

As you stood right in front of him, he immediately threw his hands up, instinctively trying to put some distance between you. “Hell no!”, he called out, a bit too quickly, “I’m not gonna let you touch my eyes!”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but there was a teeny tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Jeez, Munson, stop bitchin’ around, okay? I’m an optician. I actually know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah! Stop bitching around!”, called Gareth, clearly amused by the scene unfolding in front of him. Eddie shot him an irritated look, but everyone around just leaned back, sipping at their drinks, leaving him with no support.

Then he looked up to you, weighing his options, his gaze locked with yours as if he was challenging you. After a moments thought he sighed, reluctantly shifting to face you. He grumbled something under his breath and leaned back in the chair, letting you step closer, way closer than he’d expected, actually.

“Alright, look up,” you instructed. You placed a hand on his shoulder as he did as you said, his head tilting back so you could take a look. At first he flinched when he felt the gentle touch of your fingertips on his cheek. And to his surprise his mind started to race as he couldn’t help but notice how close you were, feeling your breath on his skin, warm and soft, just like your touch. A shiver ran through him, his skin tickling under your touch. And hell, he kind of liked it. Just for a moment, before he cursed himself for it.

You inspected his eye with a determined look, gently lifting his eyelid to locate the contact lens. For a moment he held his breath, silently admiring the features of your face he never really paid attention to before, the curve of your lips, the little crease between your brows as you were focused on his contact lens that stuck to his upper eyelid. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as you took your time, your hand resting lightly against his face. And for a split second he wondered if you were intentionally taking this long.

“I got some eye drops for dry eyes. I think that’ll help,” you said and turned to fish a small bottle out of your bag. And as soon as you turned around, your fingers no longer on his skin, he already missed their soft warmth.

With the bottle in hand you gently held his chin to lift his head again, pinching his eyelid with your other hand and holding his eye open, then you pressed the drops in. He blinked rapidly, the contact lens finally slipping back where it belonged, a couple of drops streaking down his cheek. You reached forward without thinking, carefully wiping them away.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?,” you said teasingly, but your hand lingered on his face for a moment longer than necessary, the hint of a smile playing at your lips until you finally leaned back.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that slipped onto his face and he felt like some idiot. But soon he huffed, rolling his eyes and trying to regain his usual smirk. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, but didn’t pull away as quickly as you expected, seemingly enjoying the unfamiliar warmth of your presence.

And as you took a stepped back, you noticed the slight blush that crept up his neck, finding it oddly satisfying to see him, for once, at a complete loss for words.

[notiddygothgf]

SEX IS FREE (her)

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: nanami being sexy asf, suggestive content, mentions of sex (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HIIIIII omg so i can explain the hiatus lol.... it was totally unintentional. i wound up getting super depressed over school and then fell into a chainsaw man hyperfixation (read shameless, its an aki ff i wrote youll love it). I FINALLY PICKED THIS STORY UP AGAIN because for some reason it's been getting a lot of attention recently??? lol anyway! your comments inspired me to continue writing it (though i cant promise that i'll update quickly, i AM a full time student so #bepatientwithme).

I was salivating over Nanami in this chapter if you couldnt tell lol.... but enjoy!!! keep those comments coming! who knows, maybe i have another chapter stored away and will update a little earlier....... x

★ w.c.; 5.6k

my kinda love; chapter index

‘AND I’M BAD LIKE THE BARBIE. I’m a doll, but I still wanna party,’

“Donnie, baby, you in there?”

“Yeah!” You called back, loud enough for your coworker to hear through the door. You pressed the tube of red lipstick against your bottom lip, peering into the mirror, filling in the outline you had done in black. When you didn’t receive an immediate answer, you continued humming along to the song playing quietly from your phone. “Pink vette like I’m ready to bend. ‘Imma ten so I’m pullin a ken, likeee.”

Your coworker entered the dressing room – you were the only one there. Most of the other girls from the afternoon shift had gone home already. 

“Some dude wants to rent you,” She told you. 

“No. I don’t do private rooms,” You replied without even looking back. You knew who she was. You weren’t the biggest fan. “I’m good, Mandy.”

“He asked specifically for you,” She added. “Offered a lotta money, too. Helluva lot more than we normally charge.”

You froze up at that. Initially, your first thought was to send her off a second time. Then, you thought of her running off with your money. 

“Is he one of them greasy, sleazy old guys?” You asked. It was wild, how quickly you perked up when you heard that. “Last guy was throwin’ himself onto me. I should’ve filed a police report.”

“Oh, stop your ‘bitchin,” The girl sighed. “He’s paying 200 just to see your ass.”

If you had a tail, it would have started wagging. 

What? A girl had bills to pay. “So he is a greasy old pervert.”

“No, actually. He’s a fine, young thing. Well, not young, but younger than most of the guys we usually get back here,” She trailed off in thought. You watched her body move in the corner of the mirror. “Sexy as hell. Serious, businessman type. Tall, blond, handsome, a jawline that could cut paper,” here, she bent over, leaning over you and muttering the next words into your ear, “I could always take him off your hands, y’know.”

“As if,” You replied. Spinning the chair back around, you got up. “Better not be expecting nothing extravagant. I’m considering this overtime.”

With a deep breath, standing in front of the cherry red door, your heart began to pound against you chest. It was some strange mixture of nerves and excitement you felt as you raised your hand to knock. 

Here goes nothing. You reached for the doorknob and entered the private room, turning back only to lock it behind you. 

“Special delivery!” you crooned, trying to embody a playful tone to mask the jittery feeling within. When you turned around to face the client, you were caught by surprise. 

Your wide eyes traced over a familiar silhouette – broad shoulders, perfectly-fitted, navy blue two-piece suit that clung to his large arms, and matching slacks that clung to his legs – his widespread, casual position hinted at sophistication. A pretty, sharp, angular face framed by neatly-cropped blond hair. A tasteful timepiece on his wrist caught your eye. 

Narrow eyes obscured by peculiar glasses, chiseled cheekbones and jawline. His blond hair – framing his apricot skin – was done up carefully, perfectly, sweeping over his head like a ray of sunlight. You recognized him by his signature scowl.

He came back for more?

You liked your lips, trying to play it cool (like you hadn’t been waiting for him to come back). “Oh, hey, it’s you again,” you said with a smirk. Strutting over to him, you cooed, “Couldn’t stay away?”

He’s so fucking hot.

Though his response wasn’t verbal, the pink hue that dusted his face was not lost on you. You swayed your hips from side to side. “Can you give me somethin’ to work with? I don’t usually do these rooms, you know.”

The devastatingly handsome man swallowed, fixing his gaze on the door – the one you had locked on the way in. As you worked your way between his legs, teasingly dragging your hands up and down your body, his gaze wandered back to you. Shamelessly, you reveled in the attention – studying his reaction.

You could smell his cologne from here – again – and, shit, it made your head spin all over again. The warm notes lingered beneath the collar of his dress shirt. Amber. Wood. Musk. Something dark?

“So I’ve heard,” The man replied, finally breaking his silence. His voice was a revelation – deep, mellow, and smooth, carrying a certain tone of weariness that seemed to add to his enigmatic charm. Charm? Yes, you supposed he charmed you.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt to let some fresh air in. The action drew your attention to his neck, provoking you to take a moment to appreciate the details your coworker had emphasized: Tall, blond, with a jawline that could indeed cut paper.

You were wretched. You had to have been. This is so wrong.

“You seem tense,” You remark, making your second attempt at breaking the ice. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

The handsome stranger – Nanami, if you remembered correctly – licked his lips, drawing mindless shapes over the deep-toned fabric that covered his knee. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“A little,” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Do you want a dance? We could just sit and chat, too, if you want. I don’t mind. I know your type tend’ta like talking.”

You couldn’t control the way your eyes flitted down over his toned thighs – mind hazy with unwelcome thoughts. The temptation to crawl into his lap a second time was strong, but you reminded yourself of the situation – he was your roommate’s teacher, for fuck’s sake. Your roommate’s handsome… muscular… expensive-looking teacher… with a deep, sexy voice that you could hardly resist.

You must have been ovulating. That was the only excuse.

“I won’t make you put on a show for me,” Nobara’s professor trailed off, eyes distant, clearly lost in thought. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, pretty brown eyes peering into yours – they looked so dark up close. “As crazy as it sounds, I only wanted to speak to you.”

Your sultry facade cracked a bit at that, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. From your experience, men usually came here with only one thing in mind. He wanted to talk… to you. Oh my god.

You nearly squealed. Clearing your throat and pressing your legs together, you turned to hide your flustered face from the older man. “Alright,” you said. “You have 30 minutes.”  Plopping down on the couch next to him, you threw your legs over his lap. “What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

You already knew his name. Still, to keep up appearances, you played coy with him. You knew that, reasonably, there was no reason you should be continuing to entertain him — financial commpensation aside, though you could always reimburse him. You should have turned back the moment you realized it was him.

Then again… he had come to see you. It wasn’t like he knew you were his student’s roommate, but that was besides the point. That alone was moral justification enough for you.

The stiff man had his eyes trained on the spot where your legs had been thrown haphazardly over his. Then, nervously, he answered, “Nanami. Kento.”

Kento. You liked that name. It rolled off the tongue real easy — a buttery smooth name for a man as composed as him.

“Nice to meet you Nanami… Kento,” You chipped, mimicking his prose. “Donetta DiVine. I’m sure you already knew that, though. Do you wanna start, or should I?”

Nanami Kento knitted his brows. “Start…?”

You rolled your eyes rather playfully, giving his leg a nudge with your heel. You had ditched the stage platforms for a smaller pair of stilettos. “What do you do for a living?” 

He licked his lips. After a brief pause, he answered, “I can’t really say, but I teach on the side.”

“Ooh— mysterious…” You grinned. Leaning into the couch, you braced your chin on your hand, staring into his eyes. It didn’t take much effort to play the role of the ‘interested’ siren like it normally did. Not with him. “You already know what I do,” You added, “You look tired.”

His brown eyes widened with surprise.

Shit, I overstepped.

You took your statement back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not—“ He trailed off. Something in his harsh expression softened. “You’re right. Just the first person to notice.”

If your attraction to the man had been any more obvious, you would’ve been waving a sign around with his name on it.

“Really? You’ve got such tired eyes,” You continued anyway. You figured you would at least try to make the most of this half hour with him. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, “Where would I even begin?”

“Your week?” You answered, making a rolling gesture with your spare hand. “How… how was it?”

He looked equal parts confused and intrigued by you, quirking a perfecftly arched brow before clearing his throat. “My week was alright. I started work again after taking a leave of absence for a few months.”

“No kidding…” You trailed off. It didn’t take much to make your interested tone seem real, as you felt nothing but the most genuine sense of interest while listening to him drone on in that deep, raspy voice of his. You could have listened to it for hours. “What happened?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was quick, fleeting – you almost missed it. “Workplace injury,” He sighed. “If it’s alright, I’d rather not go into detail about it.”

This guy’s like a brick wall.

“Did you heal up okay?” You asked, eyes wide and prying.

He didn’t seem to mind you much. That was a good sign.

“Had to undergo some minor surgery but, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” He smiled, actually smiled, and it made your chest stir with something unfamiliar. He was devastatingly handsome – the kind of handsome you kept in a little locket in your pocket when you went to war, or something like that. “My bosses have been pressuring me to come back ever since I left. One superior of mine in particular… has been a nuisance. I was under the impression that sick leave was supposed to be a period of peace… but I guess I thought wrong.”

You laughed at his attempt at humor. It came easily to you. Too easily. “I know how you feel. I busted my ass a few months ago. Twisted my ankle real bad,” You raised your leg off of his lap, twirling your stiletto heel around in the air, cutting through it like a knife. “These things are deadly. Boss gave me a solid two days before he started blowing up my phone asking when I was going to be back. It’s like… can you let me live?”

He laughed, then – really laughed, the kind that made his chest rumble, head thrown back against the cushiony couch. And as he released the melodious sound that made your head spin, his eyes creased at the corners. The experience gap between the two you couldn’t have been more apparent. He was a grown man, hardened by years of trials and tribulations – a mysterious one, at that. And there you were, a naive little dancer with your legs strewn over his lap like he was a partner and not a client. He seemed so wise beyond his years, something only accentuated by the tiredness in his eyes. You longed to hear him drone on about his life a little longer, 30 minutes be damned.

“My superior and I actually went to highschool together. He’s been up my ass as long as I can remember,” He hummed, licking his lips, and you followed the path of his tongue as it wet the skin like a hungry feline.

“Which superior?” You asked, mindlessly picking at the fabric of the velour couch beneath you. “The one you were here with last time? With the white hair?”

When the man knit his brows together, you froze up. Shit. I just gave myself away.

There was a brief, tense pause, during which you tried to focus on the music playing from the speakers, the jazzy tune, the faint remnants of a song playing in the showroom outside and up the hall, the wallpaper – anything but him. 

“Yes, that would be him,” He answered, finally. He seemed to be… intrigued by you. Yes, that’s what it was – his half-lidded amber gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. “You’re very perceptive.”

You cleared your throat. “So, this job of yours… do you like it?”

“I despise it,” He sighed, like he had been waiting his entire life to confess those words. “But, at least, I figure I’m doing something meaningful with my life. You could say I’m a professor on the side.”

I already know that, You thought. Still, he didn’t have to know you knew.

“It’s a demanding job, but I enjoy feeling like I’ve made a difference,” He continued on. “Unfortunately, after the incident, I had to take some time away from the kids to recover.”

“You seem to enjoy teaching,” You answered back, perching your chin on your hand against the back of the couch. 

“Sometimes,” He replied. “Other times, the work can be unbearable,” He looked up, then, pretty brown eyes on yours in a way that had your heart skipping more than a couple of beats. You could practically feel the way they burned right through your extroverted facade, saw past the layers of glitter and scanty clothes and deep into the abyss in your chest. See who you really were. 

It was him who turned to you, then, asking you, “What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, just to make sure you’d heard him correctly. A client? Caring about your experience at work? That was… dizzyingly rare. 

“Yes, you,” He reiterated with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you enjoy working here?”

Do I…? You took a moment to consider your answer. You could lie to him – preserve the perfect, sexual image the women in your company were expected to uphold. That was always an option. But, the moment you peered into those all-knowing, tired eyes of his, you found that you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. No, not when he had been so honest with you.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

Before you could catch yourself, the words were already leaving your lips. “Not really, but it pays the bills.”

His eyes softened at that. He didn’t look the least bit upset by your words. If anything, he looked as if he had grown suddenly tender with a sense of understanding. Women didn’t often join your line of work. Not unless they were desperate for money. He seemed mature enough to realize that – to see right past the fantasy you were supposed to paint for him and peer into your eyes like windows into your soul. One look at him, and you knew he didn’t see you as a dancer.

He saw you as a person. As a woman.

You broke the moment with a hum, “Why don’t you keep telling me about your week?” You asked, changing the subject, shifting the conversation back into comfortable territory.

The rest of the half-hour with Nanami flew by like a fleeting dream. He spoke with a quiet ease, his voice low and steady, yet somehow captivating. He complained about the inefficiencies at work—endless meetings that led nowhere, piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply overnight, and colleagues who turned simple tasks into impossible challenges. Yet, when he talked about his students, something in his tone softened, revealing a warmth that made your chest ache. You found yourself asking questions, small ones at first, but each answer drew him out more. The way he spoke—measured, thoughtful, with just the faintest edge of weariness—made you want to listen forever. For someone who seemed so guarded, he had a surprising amount to say, and you realized how much you liked hearing him talk.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a sharp knock interrupted the quiet cocoon of your conversation.

“Donnie? You okay in there? Your 30 was up ten minutes ago.” 

It was your coworker.

“I’m good!” You called back, swinging your legs off of Nanami’s lap, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have been checking my watch,” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, long fingers combing through the buzzed, blonde strands of his undercut like wind blowing through a field of wheat. Then, after glancing down at his watch, he stood up, cleared his throat, and straightened out his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

You had half expected him to extend the time. The conversation was going so well, you had silently found yourself hoping that he would lean over and do something – place his strong hand on your thigh, brush his fingers up your arm, anything. No-touching policy be damned.

You would make an exception for him. Men that fine don’t just grow on trees.

So, trying your best to lure him back in, you kicked one leg over the other, crawling into a sexy pose on the couch. In the most sultry tone you could manage, you breathed, “Is that really all you wanted?”

Please ask me for a lapdance, You found yourself wishing internally. 

He paused, looking back at you like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the sexy pose or the outfit or… well, anything. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just… You spent so much money tonight to be here,” You uttered, suddenly bashful when he was peering down at you like that – he was so much taller than you, a height gap that was only emphasized by your seated position on the couch below him. You imagined you would have to stand on the tips of your toes to be at eye level with his neck, maybe his chin. Mindlessly, you caressed the couch. “I figured you would have at least wanted a lap dance, or something.”

“I’m not going to make you do something that neither of us are interested in doing,” He said, sliding his hands down over his slacks to straighten out the creases that had formed in them where your legs had been resting only a moment earlier. “Sex is free. It’s rare to find someone who’s willing to listen.”

You sat there, stunned into silence, still in that sexy pose on the couch, your body frozen in the aftermath of his words. His calm, unbothered demeanor completely threw you off balance, leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. Men like him didn’t come in here looking for conversation. They came in here for fantasies, for attention, for touch. But not him. 

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly in a gesture so gentlemanly it made your stomach twist. Then, without another word, he moved to the door, unlocking it with smooth precision. 

You didn’t even have time to gather yourself before he slipped out, leaving you sitting there in your sultry pose, legs crossed, mouth slightly open. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the room, final and undeniable.

You blinked, your mind racing, the moment replaying over and over in your head. Did I just get… emotionally blue-balled? 

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks, both incredulous and a little amused at how absurdly fitting it was. You flopped back against the couch, your sultry act forgotten, staring up at the ceiling as the jazzy tune from the speakers drifted lazily through the air.

For the first time, a client had left you feeling something you couldn’t quite put into words. You couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed, intrigued, or just completely thrown off your game.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

DARREN: Hey imu.

DARREN: U busy tn?

YOU: I’m working but I get out early. Y.

DARREN: let me pick u up after work

DARREN: maybe i can help you ease some of that stress.

Darren rolled off of you with a huff and an exhale, proud of himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backside of his elbow, sighing, “That was great. Did you cum?”

“Yeah,” You liked straight through your teeth. Feeling vulnerable, you reached for your shirt and slipped it back on. There was a point in time where the two of you would sleep skin-to-skin after sex. A point in time long ago, of course, but you couldn’t help but reflect. Now, all that was left was a feeling of discomfort where the intimacy used to be. 

He flopped down onto the bed next to you, throwing his arm around your waist. Not moving a muscle, you trained your gaze on the ceiling above, hoping that maybe, if you spent enough time counting the dots in his popcorn ceiling, he would see that you did not, in fact, enjoy the experience. You doubted he would do anything to fix it even if he did know.

52, 53, 54.

You had been counting for the past five minutes – thirty seconds after he had grunted the words, “Let’s do missionary” into your ear before flipping you over. Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to do missionary. That would mean that he could see you and, more importantly, that you had to look at him. So, to pass time and to avoid his gaze, you looked up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tides of pleasure that his strokes gave you.

55, 56, 57.

He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “You smell like a man’s cologne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I work at a strip club.”

With a groan, Darren rolled onto his back, finally putting a comfortable distance between you and him. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been telling you that you’re wasting your talents at a place like that.”

Your jaw tightened. There it was, the same old Darren: judgment wrapped in concern, but laced with the unspoken assumption that he knew what was best for you.

You slipped off the bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. The cool floor against your bare feet helped ground you.

Unlocking your phone, you typed a message to Nobara, your roommate: 

Can you come get me? I’m at my ex’s.

The response came almost instantly: 

Girl, r u srs?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you replied: 

I’ll explain later, ik, just pls… I wanna gtfo of here.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of your hoodie, you turned back to Darren. He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm slung across his chest, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep. For a moment, you hesitated. The familiarity of this scene—him in his sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts—was a cruel reminder of how things used to be. But you weren’t that girl anymore.

“I think I should go,” you said, breaking the silence.

Darren’s head snapped toward you. “No, wait,” he said, sitting up. His hair was tousled, his expression almost pleading. “Please… I really want you to stay.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Why?”

“Because…” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. I thought things were going good between us.”

You blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Things? Darren, I come here, we have sex, and then I leave. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“Is that all I am to you?” His voice carried a tinge of desperation, his eyes searching yours.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Or maybe,” you said slowly, “you’re asking if there’s any chance of us getting back together.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “Is there?”

You laughed again, colder this time, shaking your head. “No. There isn’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “That’s not fair. I’ve done so much for you—”

“Done so much?” Your voice rose, and you stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t give me shit but dick and attitude, Darren.”

He flinched, but you didn’t stop. “You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that you went and knocked me up and then forced me to have an abortion. Where the hell were you during that, huh? Seeing as you’ve done so much for me?”

He sat frozen, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes darted toward the floor, guilt pooling in their depths.

“And you wanna know what’s really unfair?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words spilled out like a flood you couldn’t contain. “The fact that you fucking cheated on me when I needed you the most. That’s what’s not fair, Darren.”

Darren stared at you, his face contorted with frustration. “That’s not fucking fair,” he snapped, his voice rising.  

“Oh, fuck you, Darren,” you shot back, your hands trembling as you pointed at him. “What else do I have to do to show you I’m done? What else do I have to say?”  

“I’m trying!” he yelled, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking trying! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re so goddamn impossible!”  

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this trying? You call cheating, lying, and gaslighting me trying?”  

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” he spat, his words sharp enough to cut. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake in your goddamn life.”  

“I’m not perfect, Darren,” you hissed, stepping forward, your voice shaking with anger. “But at least I own my shit. At least I don’t treat the people I love like they’re disposable!”  

“Oh?” he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re the one who keeps coming back. So what does that make you, huh?”  

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he muttered under his breath, “Pathetic.”  

Your blood boiled. “What did you just say?”  

“You heard me,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.  

“Fuck you, Darren!” you screamed, shoving him hard against the chest.  

His expression darkened. “You don’t get to do that,” he snarled.  

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you away. The force of it sent you stumbling back, and you hit the edge of the dresser, pain shooting up your arm as you fell to the floor.  

“Wait, I…” His face shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched.  

You scrambled to your feet, holding your arm where it throbbed. “You know what? I’m done.” Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m done, Darren.”  

“Wait—”  

“No!” you shouted, cutting him off. “Go fuck yourself!”  

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t let us go. We had something special. You know that.”  

You stared at him, disbelief flooding your chest. Then you laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. “If you thought this was anything more than sex, then you’re the fucking idiot.”  

He opened his mouth to argue, but you were already grabbing your stiletto boots from the floor.  

“We can make it work,” he said desperately, following you as you stormed out of his apartment.  

“Make it work?” you echoed, spinning around to face him as you reached his car. “Make it work?” You hefted one of your boots in your hand. “Make this fucking work!”  

Before he could respond, you hurled the boot at his car window. The glass shattered on impact, the sound ringing out like a scream in the still night.  

The car alarm blared, its shrill wailing cutting through the silence. Darren stood frozen, his mouth agape.  

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing toward the car.  

You grabbed your other boot and slung it over your shoulder. “Fix that, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away, the sound of the alarm trailing behind you.  

“Her!” Darren called after you, but you didn’t turn around.  

You kept walking, the cold air biting at your skin, the adrenaline coursing through you keeping you upright. Your arm throbbed where you’d hit it, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.  

You made it about halfway home before the exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Your legs wobbled, and you collapsed onto the curb, cradling your arm as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.  

Your phone buzzed weakly in your pocket. Nobara’s name lit up the screen.  

“Where the hell are you?” she demanded as you answered, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.  

You gave her your location, your words slurred with exhaustion and pain. “I can’t— I just can’t walk anymore.”  

“Stay put,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to get you.”  

By the time her car pulled up, you were slumped against a lamppost, your eyes half-closed. Nobara jumped out, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders as she helped you to your feet.  

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her tone softer now.  

You shook your head, too drained to explain. “I’m hungry. I’ll tell you later.”  

“Let’s stop and get you something to eat,” She didn’t press further, guiding you into the car. As the city lights blurred past, you stared out the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a bad dream.  

The car was warm, the quiet hum of the heater and the golden glow of streetlights spilling through the windshield easing the tension in your chest. You cradled your injured arm as Nobara maneuvered through the drive-thru, shooting you occasional glances.  

“You want the usual?” she asked as she pulled up to the intercom.  

“Yeah. Large fries, nuggets, and a Coke,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the seat.  

She placed the order, and soon you were pulling into a parking spot under the dim glow of the lot’s overhead lights. The smell of greasy goodness filled the car as she handed you the bag, cracking open a box of nuggets for herself.  

“So,” she said, dipping a nugget into a cup of barbecue sauce. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened back there, or do I just have to assume you went full-on ‘Carrie’ at prom?”  

You snorted, the first genuine laugh you’d had all night. “Something like that.”  

“Well, shit.” She popped the nugget into her mouth. “Guess I missed a show.”  

You sighed, staring at the fries in your lap. “It’s over. For real this time.”  

“Good,” Nobara said firmly. “That guy was a walking red flag.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of red flags…” You smirked as an idea popped into your head. “You’ll never believe what happened at work today.”  

Her eyes narrowed as she dunked another nugget. “Oh, this should be good. Spill.”  

You leaned back, a grin playing on your lips. “I got booked for a private room.”  

Nobara froze mid-bite. “I thought you didn’t do those?”  

“I don’t,” you said, shrugging. “But they offered me a shit ton of money. Guess who it was.”  

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”  

You couldn’t help but draw it out for dramatic effect. “Your teacher.”  

Her jaw dropped, and the nugget in her hand fell back into the box. “No way, Bitch.”  

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face.  

“What did he want? Is he, like, a total pervert or something?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, actually. He just wanted someone to talk to.”  

Nobara blinked, clearly baffled. “Huh.”  

“I know, right?” you said, grabbing a nugget. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”  

“Damn,” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “I never took him as the emotional type.”  

“Don’t go telling your friends, though,” you warned, wagging a finger at her. “He told me some pretty heavy shit.”  

Nobara tensed, her expression flickering with something you didn’t catch as you reached for your Coke. “Like what?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like hell if I’d tell you.”  

“Oh, come on!” she said, pouting dramatically. “I won’t tell anyone!”  

You smirked, leaning back in your seat. “I’m not risking it. Client confidentiality or whatever.”  

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.  

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the car filled with the sound of crinkling wrappers and occasional laughter.  

“Hey,” Nobara said suddenly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re okay, right?”  

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”  

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Good. ‘Cause if you ever go back to that asshole, I’m slashing his tires.”  

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Deal.”  

As you both dug into the last of the nuggets, the weight of the night seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of greasy food and a friend who always had your back.

a/n: and there she is! my first update in like a year lol. lmk what you thought! tell me what you would like to see in the story, who knows, i might be able to incorporate it in! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I loveee reading them.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. I can't find the artist, but if you know them pls dm for credits!!! please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

[love-byers]

mike is dismissive of el the whole day and obsessed with their friends

i've posted before about how weird mikes dialogue is in the airport & rink o mania

it seems no matter how many times el says the day is about them and re-directs when he asks about their california life he keeps asking. it's to the point he disregards el and acts disinterested.

we all know he was acting face the whole first day in lenora. but these lines just keep jumping out at me

the first offense:

"Then after burritos I want to go to Rink-O-Mania."

"Rink-O-Mania, okay what's Rink-O-Mania?"

"It's the most fun place in Lenora. They have skating and games--"

"Okay. that sounds awesome. Are your friends gonna meet us there?" (he glances at will when he says "friends" but some ppl will never believe that so whatever)

guys. mike wheeler. the same mike wheeler who an episode before was super pissed with lucas for making new friends. same mike wheeler who was worried he'd lost will to a bunch of new friends. same mike wheeler who worriedly asked will if he'd find a new party. same mike wheeler who was hell bent on not letting max into the party because he was so attached to their friend group.

why does mike wheeler gaf about their california friends?? el says she wants the day to be about her and mike. why would mike not want the day to be about him and el? 1. i think it's because he's not in love with el and was more worried about making will jealous and 2. i think it's because he's trying to take a dig at will, hence why he looks at him when he says friends. "oh yeah, are your friends gonna meet us there? your super nice awesome friends? all the new friends you made without me?"

the second offense:

when they're getting their skates at rink o mania

"Bitchin' right?"

"Yeah, yeah, bitchin', do you come here a lot?"

he is so dismissive of when she says bitchin. she's making a reference to a fun memory and he's just like "yeah, yeah bitchin for sure totally so ANYWAYS do you guys come here a lot? to hang out with people who aren't me?"

ive posted before about how a lot of things mike says feels rehearsed. this is one of them. he was so focused on asking if they go there a lot he completely dismissed el.

and remember how they were last summer. so immersed with each other they didn't care about anyone else. now all of a sudden mike cares about hanging out with her friends?? AND remember he is supposedly madly in love with her.

and two days after this mike is saying he and will should be a team. the two of them.

idk man it's weird

[theunluckyclover775]

Jason's Music Tastes Debate

"Jason listens to white girl pop!" "No he listens to death metal!"

Jason cannot pick a lane. He can't stick to a solid costume design, or whether or not he has scars in any continuity. So who's to say he picks and sticks to one genre? Plus, imagine this:

Dick: Thanks for the ride, Little Wing. Tim: Yeah, I can't believe Dick crashed the car again. Jason: It's all good. *throws Dick his phone* Can you play the playlist pulled up? I'm gonna try and get in this lane... Dick: Sure ~Cal- i- fornia girls we're unforgettable...~ ~... That's that me, Espresso...~ ~It's Slim Pickins! If I can't find the one I love...~ Jason: Jesus, Dickie, you didn't put it on shuffle. Dick: My bad. Lemme just- there- it'll shuffle after. ~I'll just be here in the kitchen, servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'.~ Tim: Jay, why do you have so much pop mu- *WAKE UP! GRABABRUSHANDPUTALITTLE MAKEUP!* Dick wakes up from Sabrina Carpenter's Slim Pickins nap: HO-ly hell bat...man? Jason, smirking and also kinda yelling to get over the music: mmmm, Yeah, no, not in the mood. Can someone skip? *Tim, now having the phone since Dick fell asleep, hovering his thumb over the button like he's about to detonate a bomb. Dick tenses, gets ready for another loud metal song as Tim presses skip* *YOU WANTED TO!-* ~Lara Don't you let 'em get your head down, they don't know a thing about the rain clouds. They don't even know the way the wind's bound. So how could they know your name?~ Tim: The fuck's this? Dick: Is that a banjo..? Jason: It's guitar, dumbass. And insult The Arcadian Wild again and I pull out your vocal chords.

[vampykween]

husband!simon x reader except they hate each other and they probably always will :,( i’m in an angsty mood today sorry (but also not sorry it’s my fav) also this is barely proof read so sorry for any errors

“i fucking hate you.”

“yeah, yeah try a little harder love. hit me with something i haven’t heard before.”

“god you’re such an infuriating, egotistical, and moody asshole. sometimes i wake up and want to roll over and smother you with your own damn pillow.”

simon simply quirks an eyebrow at you and his lips turn up in a devilish smirk. “oh really? what’s stopping ya? please put me out of my misery, truly. you think i want to come home to you bitchin’ and moanin’ all the time, huh?”

your husband’s words add fuel to the already raging inferno inside of you. if this were a cartoon steam would be billowing out of your ears. there was very little, besides the fact that simon was far stronger than you, stopping you from throwing your hands around his neck and popping his stupid head clean off his shoulders.

“fuck you. god if i had know you were such a piece of shit, i would’ve never married you.”

“ ya already did, babe. got the proof right upstairs.” at the mention of your kids, you felt some of the fight die down in you. god you swore you wouldn’t be those parents that fought around their kids, made them feel like their home wasn’t a safe environment to be in. now look at you, you can barely stand the sight of your husband sometimes, but you’re so afraid of being alone; so you grin and bear it in front of them, only to slam your bedroom door and rip into each other all night long. sometimes that was also literally, embarrassing as it is to admit, you’re pretty sure you and simon have far more hate sex than any other kind of sex. hell you can’t remember the last time you just wanted the intimacy of being with him.

simon notices your lack of griping and moves from his spot on the couch over to where you’re standing by the archway of the living room. he takes stock of the frustrated tears pooling in your eyes and is suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort you. once upon a time he did love you, really love you. then one day, marriage was harder than you two thought, and work always kept him away, and soon enough getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as the movies made it seem. slowly life took the two of you, chewed you up far past recognition, spit you out and said here you go, have fun un-fucking each other up.

simon pulls you into his arms and your face goes into the familiar spot in the crook of his neck.

you know soon you’ll return to nagging, fighting, screaming, and crying- but for now, in this moment, in your husband's arms, you can pretend everything is okay.

[sd-vtm]

“ Something like that..”

More so a corrupted drone who was able to use its eldritch powers to recreate her and unforunetly cause a loss of some memories and information.. our age for example.. it been a good 13-14 years at least since she worked at the Elliot Minor as a maid drone.. She had to be in her earlier twenties by now..The other scooted a little to sit with her legs swaying causally back and forth, peering aside as the bot provided some glasses and her servo plucked one up delicately and she examine them for a moment before blinking back up at Botgotti.

Siblings.. so that meant there was probably more of his kind on this ship, perhaps? Well.. long as none of them ate little bots like her, she should be fine. She wondered if they where all this ..big.

‘He called himself a.. ah, crap, what was it again..Cyber..tron..ian?’

That what he was called right? Must be a different type of drone..? Or maybe an all new species of AI? She had many questions but, for now we will simply observe, let the information process into memory files. Only pausing said thoughts when he offered a few different sets of optical specticals for her to try on.

V tries a pair of the offered glasses on and it helps unblur things around with the first set she tries, taken back by the large size of everything that was currently around her. “..Ha..I mean, long as you didn't touch my chest or privacy panel, I don't mind a little manhandling..”

A shrug and the disassembly drone tilted her head a little. “..To respond to your question about my origins.. it’s kind of a messy story to be honest..”

This was too familiar, She didn't like how anxious this place made her feel.. Get it together V!

Her vision blurred a little more in and our of its already horrible focus; as that annoying ringing starts back up in her audio receptors. V panted quietly before laying back and slowly relaxing her tail, with a tuck of pointed end legs the fembot hugged herself, tail wrapping around a thigh to self sooth over worked systems. Okay.. We have a big robot guy, who has brought us to his big robot guy ship..

And here she thought Dissessmbly and Worker drones where the only living AI left here..

Did humans make bigger ones too..? That would make sense.. The size of those hands would crush a drone pretty easy.. “…Bat…gotti..?”

Was that a prototype name of JCJenson's that she didn't know about? Her memory files had gotten a little scrambled and a few things were lost when she was downloaded into her new body.. The exworker drone frowned at the other. “..R-Right. It’s nice to meet you too..uhm, .I’m Serial Designation V-X00100000..er..or V if that’s too much of a mouth full..”

Optics land on the oil and her mouth is filled with trans fluid making her swallow thickly, quick to grabbing the can and gulping it back desperately. Ugh.. Gross it was motor oil.. Not as good as worker drone oil but we’ll take it.. After finishing the can pretty quickly its crushed in her hand. “..Haa..t-thanks..I was starved..” Her tail began to flick back and forth showing her less tense posture then before. Now starting to relax and lay back a bit.

“..O-Oh my o-optics..? Yeah, I was born..made..? I had this a long time.” She shrugged and rubbed her still sore helm, rubbing fingers through her silver locks.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 6

Yes, my darlings, you read that right. I promised I would get back on this one once I was done with In the Midnight Hour and admittedly I did get side tracked for a week doing the Valentine’s fics, once that was out of my head I have written almost 7000 new words for this story. I went from half way through this one to a few hundred words into part 10. So yeah. Expect to see this one updated fairly regularly. I haven’t given up on Star Child I’m just trying to decide which direction the next part should take.

Also on the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*

They all met up by the fountain in the middle of the mall. Eddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“You sure he’s going to come?” Jeff asked.

Eddie tried to peer around the crowd. “That’s what he said.”

And then they spotted him. He was in a nice red sweater with a white polo underneath and fitted jeans. Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth in appreciation.

But then he noticed the gaggle of children following behind him. And what a gaggle it was. It consisted of Red, his new best friend, another girl with a thousand yard stare. The tall black kid must be the Sinclair boy. The remaining three were also very interesting. There was the short curly haired kid with no front teeth. The last two were both dark haired, but the one on the right was darker. Hair and attitude, judging from the rounded shoulders and down cast expression of the other boy.

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I’m late. Dustin called asking me to take him to the arcade, only when I told him that I was going to the mall, suddenly they all wanted to come.”

“And then I got roped into this because they wouldn’t all fit in Steve’s car,” a voice called from the back.

The person jostled his way to stand next to Steve. Jonathan clasped Steve on the shoulder. “I gave Will money to call me when you’re done so I can pick up him and El. Make sure he doesn’t spend it on the gumball machine.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you later.”

Jonathan nodded and waved goodbye to everyone, but especially the timid one. Which Eddie figured must have been Will.

“Your children, I presume?” Eddie asked, eyeing the thirteen year-olds warily.

“Yup,” Steve said with a put on expression. He pointed to each of them in turn. “That’s Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, Max and El.”

Eddie did the same to his friends. “I’m Eddie, these are Jeff, Gareth, and Brian. Or collectively, the band Corroded Coffin.”

“That’s bitchin’,” El said with a smile.

Steve ducked his head as he tried not to laugh.

“Hell yeah, it is,” Jeff said, taking an immediate liking to her.

“All right,” Steve said, turning to the kids. “You are to stay in pairs at the very least. And you know who your partners are. Will and Mike, Max and El, and Dustin and Lucas. Regardless of what you are doing, you will meet up here at 2pm. No later. I have plans with these guys at three and I’m not going to be late because of you guys a second time.”

There were a lot of eye rolls but everyone agreed to meet at the fountain at two.

Once they had left, Steve turned back to see that all four of them were struggling not to laugh.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Go ahead and laugh. Because fuck knows it’s hilarious.”

So they promptly burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Gareth wheezed. “It was like watching ducklings.”

“Yes!” Eddie agreed. “My dude, I hope you are charging their parents for this.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like I need the money.”

They all just shook their heads.

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Right, Stevie, this is how it is going to go. You’ll have one hour to get the most outrageous gift. Ten dollar maximum.”

“Each person or total?”

“However you want to swing it,” Jeff said. “But forty bucks is a lot.”

Steve nodded. “I guess my one concern is that I don’t know you guys very well and I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“So take Eddie with you,” Gareth said. “And then for the last ten minutes split off to buy something for each other.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “that could work. What do you say, Stevie?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Every one but Steve set a timer on their watches. Steve’s wasn’t a digital one, so he couldn’t.

“On your marks, get set,” Brian said. “And go!”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and suddenly he was being dragged along.

Steve giggled. “Where to first?”

“We are going to Suncoast,” Eddie said with a grin. “It’s the best place for all your metalhead needs.

“Lead on, MacDuff!” Steve said with a grin.

Eddie finally let go of Steve’s hand as they neared the store.

“I found out in drama that a lot of the sayings and words we use today are because Shakespeare couldn’t find the right word and made them up,” Steve said nervously.

“Wait, really?” Eddie asked, coming to a complete stop. “Like what?”

“Well, ‘Lead on, MacDuff’,” Steve said, “just for starters. It’s from Macbeth. Green eyed-monster. Just loads that I can’t think of off the top of my head.”

Eddie stood there for a moment blinking. “If they had taught that in English, I think would pay more attention.”

Steve laughed. “I know, right?”

They entered the store and everything had a dark red neon glow to it and it was clearly separated between the movie part of the store and the music part of the store. It was almost jarring. The movie part was dark like the inside of a movie theater. The music part was well lit and almost sterile white in its design.

They wandered around the music section. And they stopped by the minuscule instrument section. It had mostly accessories but also a couple of guitars. Mostly acoustic but one or two electric as well.

“This is pitiful,” Steve said staring at the selection.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, dude,” Eddie said. “There is an actual record shop with a full on instrument section. But that is not the point of this.”

Steve stopped by the drumsticks. “Gareth is the drummer right?”

Eddie nodded.

“I’ve been to a couple of concerts and I saw that the drummer had a bucket of sticks...”

“Are you asking if you should get Gareth more drumsticks?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Go for it.”

“What’s his favorite color?” Steve asked.

Eddie frowned, but Steve pointed to the drumsticks on display and the had all sorts of different colors and patterns.

“The black ones with the flames on them, for sure.”

Steve grinned and picked them up. They got a couple more things here, but it was time to move on.

They hit up the stationary store, the weird little shop that sold incense and little Egyptian figurines, and Hammond’s Toys.

As they were passing Shapiro’s on their way to Hammond’s Toys, Steve found his gift for Eddie. It took every bit of will power not to just rush back and grab it, afraid it would be gone by the time he got back.

Eddie came up to him. “All right, Stevie. This is where we have to part ways. We only have ten minutes left and we need to get each other something, too.”

Steve smiled and nodded. He doubled back to Shapiro’s and quickly bought it. He raced to the fountain to be there first. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, his packages tucked under his legs so people wouldn’t steal them.

It wasn’t long before the others started showing up. Brian showed up first.

“How the hell did you beat me, man?” he asked as he sat down next to Steve. “I’m always the first to arrive.”

Steve blushed. “I got lucky.” He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Brian eyed him suspiciously. “And you got a present for everyone?”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded.

Gareth was the next to show up. “Now that’s just embarrassing. Being beaten by Brian is one thing, he’s a shopping guru. But Steve Harrington, too? However will I get over the shame?”

Jeff laughed from behind him, having just shown up himself. “You’ll live.”

Eddie was the last to arrive showing up exactly at the hour.

“Ooh,” Jeff teased. “By the skin of your teeth. Is Steve-o here really that hard to buy for?”

Eddie grabbed his knees, panting for breath. “No,” he huffed. “Just on the other side of the fucking mall.”

“So,” Gareth said turning to Steve. “Now for the next phase of our little get together. We meet up at my house at three and exchange gifts and play a one-shot.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Is that like a D&D thing?”

“Yup!” Brian said gleefully rubbing his hands together. “It a story meant for a single day instead of multiple days like a campaign.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “We roll up quick character that are meant to die and just go to town no real rules. Just fun.”

Steve nodded. “Sure I could do that.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got twenty minutes before the kids show up.”

The other three backed away slowly.

“Yeah,” Jeff said, “we aren’t going to wait for that mob.”

“Oh, hell no,” Brian agreed. “I’m sure they’re great kids and all but I have three younger siblings, if I wanted chaos, I’d hang out with them.”

“Middle schoolers, man,” Gareth said, “are the plague of the earth. See you at three.”

Steve laughed. “Agreed on all accounts. I see you at Gareth’s. I’ll get the address from Eddie.”

The three boys walked off, shoving and pushing each other, laughing as they made their way to the exit.

“So what about you?” Steve asked. “You going to run before the hoard gets here?”

Eddie laughed. “I should. Leave you to the wolves.” He grinned. “But nah. I want to properly meet the kids that Steve the pied piper of Hawkins has taken under his wing.”

Steve blushed. “I wouldn’t call myself that. They barely listen to me.”

Eddie’s face softened. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet the little sponges are just soaking up everything you tell them.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “That would explain the language problem.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “What language problem?”

“They swear like sailors.”

Eddie blinked a couple of time before he burst out laughing. “Having trouble not swearing around kids, Stevie?”

“You would be swearing too if you had to deal with them all the time,” he said with a shake of his head.

“So why do you do it?” Eddie asked.

Steve huffed out a sigh and kicked the side of the fountain with the heel of his foot. “Most of them don’t have great home lives. Except the Sinclairs, of course. Especially when it comes to caring adult men. I know what that’s like, so I try to be that for them.”

“Huh.”

Eddie didn’t have much time to comment on that because the first of the terrors had arrived.

The two dark-haired boys that seemed joined at the hip.

“Hey, Mike,” Steve greeted, “hey, Will. Did you already call Jonathan to come get you?”

Will nodded.

“Good,” Steve said. “Eddie here DMs for his friends.”

Both heads turned to him in shock.

“There is no way,” Mike said. “Steve would never be friends with someone who likes D&D.”

“Hey!” Steve protested. “I’m friends with you assholes!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Fine. Steve wouldn’t be friends with people his own age that play D&D.”

“Mike...” Will protested, speaking up for the first time. “What’s your favorite class?”

“Bard. It’s kinda self-insert type of thing,” Eddie said. “I play guitar, so I get the class. Um...second favorite would druid. I have a twelfth level druid named Kilmar Goatfiend in a campaign my club is doing right now.”

“You have a D&D club?” Dustin asked coming up from behind Will and Mike. “No way!”

“Yep!” Eddie said with pop of his lips. “The Hellfire club. Lenny Fitzpatrick is president this year. Next year, it’ll probably be Janice Montgomery.”

“You have a girl in your club?” Lucas asked, think of his sister Erika.

“Girls don’t play D&D,” Mike growled.

Steve hit him on the back of the head. “Oi! Your sister played. She’s the one that taught you. Show her some respect.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Nancy Wheeler plays D&D.”

“Did,” Will clarified. “She’s the one that gave me my wizard robes to DM in.”

“You dress up?” Eddie asked. “That’s so cool.”

Will blushed.

Just then girls arrived both of them eating ice cream cones.

Dustin spotted them and gasped. “You got ice cream cones?” He turned to Steve. “Why didn’t we get ice cream cones?”

Steve stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Because they saved their money and bought themselves ice cream cones?”

Max stuck out her tongue at him and El giggled.

“You better finish those up before you get into my car,” Steve said wagging his finger at them.

“Hey, I could take Max home,” Eddie said with a shrug. “I’m heading that way anyway.”

Steve looked at Max. “It’s up to you. You can go home with him or I could drop you off at Hopper’s and you and El can continue to hang out.”

Max thought about it for a minute. “I’ll think I’ll go home with Eddie and hang out with El tomorrow.” She turned to El. “Is that okay?”

El nodded. “I wanted to spend time with Will and Mike today.”

Mike blushed.

“What about you two?” Steve asked. “Where am I dropping you two off?”

Dustin and Lucas just shared a glance and shrugged.

“Well then you two can sort it out in the car,” Steve said and then turned to Eddie. “So what’s Gareth’s address?”

Eddie pulled out a pocket notebook and pen and scribbled out the address. “There you go, see you later, man.”

Steve took the piece of paper with a smile. “Do you always carry a notebook and pen with you wherever you go?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure, sometimes the muse will strike while I’m out and about so I need something to jot down lyrics or chord progressions as needed.”

“That’s sooo cool,” Mike said, a little star struck.

Will and Lucas looked over at each other and rolled their eyes. Eddie fought back a grin.

They split off, with Will, Mike and El, staying at the fountain to wait for Jonathan.

Part 7  Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19 Part 20  Part 21

@shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

[maybege]

How It All Started

Summary: Things between you and your roommate, Paz, escalate.

Pairing: roommate!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Free Use Arrangement AU, Roommate AU, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, (un)requited pining, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, Paz is an idiot in love (they both are), little bit of jealous Paz

Hello hello, my loves, and welcome to the start of a brand new series! This will be a drabble series with no strung-together plot but just the opportunity to dabble in this universe whenever I feel like it. We get to explore some different kinks and all the goodness and fluff of a Paz romance. If you are liking the idea of roommate!Paz paired with a Free Use AU, I can guarantee that you will absolutely fall in love with The Roommate Agreement by @bitchin-beskar. As always also a shoutout to @mostly-megan who lets me brainstorm literally months before I put anything on the page.

Without further ado, I present to you the introductory part of The Adventures of Apartment 23C. Please let me know what you think in a reblog or a comment!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

gif by @casian

Paz never saw himself as a dom.

Yeah, sure, he liked to be in charge in the bedroom and in previous relationships he’d never been shy to venture into a kinkier direction but overall, he wouldn’t call himself a dom. Hell, he didn’t even know what half of the stuff meant that some of his more adventurous friends threw around. No, for all intents and purposes, Paz would put himself in the category “normal” – whatever that was supposed to mean.

But one Thursday night, he found himself googling “free use meaning” and realized that if he were to tell Boba about what he might’ve gotten himself into, even his most experienced friend would be impressed. So, how had it come this?

It was all your fault, really. Well, kind of.

Maybe not at all.

*

You had been his roommate for a little over two years now.

Stars, he liked the way your body moved, liked the dips and the curves and your smile and how your eyes shone when you smiled and how you were such a tease because you trusted him. When he first met you, his first impression had been that you were a little … stuck-up, maybe, reserved certainly. And to be honest, you still weren’t super open and outgoing even around your friends.

But you were with him.

You flashed him your panties, called out his big dick energy (not without a nervous stutter, though, which made him grin every time), asked him for advice on dates and complained. Really, it was like any normal friendship. Only that he wanted to fuck you. And when you flashed him your panties one time too many, he was sure you wanted him to fuck you too.

Which he did.

It was more of an accident, really.

It was 3 pm on a Sunday evening, everything was nice and quiet and he was watching a football game when you came out of your room. You were wearing a little silk robe. One, that Paz feverishly tried not to gawk at and instead pretended to have his eyes on the game.

“I need your opinion on something,” you announced shyly, leaning against the doorframe, “As a man.”

Man opinion, he scoffed internally, already feeling his cock twitch because he knew you were about to show him something that would haunt him in his dreams. But he nodded anyway because he was a lovesick idiot who would do anything to just get a glimpse of your bare skin.

And so, you revealed the most delicate baby pink lingerie set made out of lace. His throat got uncomfortably dry and he couldn’t even focus on the point his team made because you were turning around, popping out your ass, posing for him and stars he wanted to feel the weight of your tits in his palms.

“What about it?” He asked gruffly, trying so hard not to sound as jealous as he was.

“Do you think Dreks will like it?” you asked and he hated how genuinely insecure you sounded.

Dreks was the ultimate asshole, of that he was sure. He’d only met the guy once when he had come to pick you up for a date (35 minutes late, which meant that Paz had seen you pacing and worrying for 35 minutes and it broke his heart) and if he’d never had to see him again it’d still be too many encounters.

Dreks was someone you had worked with briefly, a kind of department hopper in your company, someone who thought himself to be more important than he was and who, in turn, was quick to treat people who did not deserve it like absolute trash. Paz had no idea what you found so interesting about your colleague that it deserved a third date.

But before he could rein himself in, the words were already out of his mouth. “You’re not wearing that,” he said, matter-of-factly. He wanted to chide himself immediately because who was he to decide what you wore? Who was he to decide who you dated?

But there was something in your eyes and the way your shoulders relaxed that kind of gave him the impression that maybe … maybe you liked that.

“Oh?” you went quiet, your fingers toying with the thin strap of your bra and Paz allowed himself to really look at you. The lace of the bra was so delicate you might as well have worn nothing and his cock twitched when he realised he could see your nipples through the fabric. He could see so much and yet so little and his mind immediately imagined what it would feel like to run his thick fingers under the cups of the brad, teasing your nipples until you would beg him to take it off and –

“Don’t you want me to wear pretty things?”

He groaned, your sweet voice like heaven in his ears and stars did you even know what you were saying? Did you know what that did to him?

And then you took a few steps closer and his legs opened and you stepped in between and stars, you were so fucking close and he was so hard. When your knee brushed against the inside of his thigh, he could feel his cock twitch.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out his hand and putting it on your hip, “But only for me.”

He couldn’t really remember what happened then. Only that, minutes later, you were folded underneath him, writhing as he pushed his cock inside you.

“Paz,” you sighed dreamily and he swore he fell in love with the sight of your pussy stretching around his girth, “Paz, you’re so big.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed you, “just relax for me, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, head tilted back as the sun fell over your face and he, for all intents and purposes, fucked you into the couch. He was still half dressed, his shirt thrown over the couch and his jeans barely pulled down to his hips. Your panties were still hanging on your ankles and he had not managed to get you out of that bra. Though he did not mind because you still looked like a dream come true.

You felt like a dream too, your walls hot and wet and clenching so tight around him. And then there was the way, you melted into him, you listened to him. Everything he said, you did. You were pliant and eager and so lovely and when he teased you about coming inside “that pretty little pussy”, you actually came right on his cock, overwhelmed tears streaming down your face as you begged him to “please do it, Paz, please please please”.

He came harder than ever before, his cock pumping you full and it satisfied something deep inside him to see the way his come leaked down your thighs and how you opened your mouth for him when he scooped your combined release up, dropping it onto your tongue.

The “good girl” that slipped from his tongue just felt like natural progress, then.

*

After a few (excruciating) days of not talking to you, Paz realized that as much as he had avoided you, you had avoided him. But hearing your muffled cries, there was no more time to be a coward.

“Are you okay?” he asked, feeling a little awkward standing in your doorway. But he also could not not talk to you. You were one of the most important people in his life, literally, a person he shared his life with.  

“It’s over between me and Dreks,” you sobbed while hugging a pillow to your chest, “Th-That asshole better never show his face again.”

His heart felt a little lighter, knowing that Dreks was officially out of the picture. Though a much bigger part of him was furious at the man for leaving you in such a state.

“Oh,” he shifted on his feet, “Do, uh, do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “I just feel so humiliated and – and stupid and he – I – “

Paz sat down on your bed, knowing you well enough to know that you wanted to talk about it. He sat down, his hands fishing the pillow from your grasp and pulling you into his arms. He could immediately feel you relax, your face nuzzling into his chest.

“I found something was missing in … in our relationship,” you revealed and he hummed, “And when he mentioned becoming exclusive, I asked him if he’d be willing to, uh, indulge me, he laughed at me.”

Paz could not shake the feeling that that missing piece was something rather intimate which already had him panicked thinking of how to steer the conversation in a more appropriate direction. Stars knew if he thought too long about you in any intimate setting he’d get hard as a rock.

Especially now that he knew what you felt like, that he knew what you sounded like, that he knew how pliant you were for him. But then he heard the pain in your voice, how beaten down you felt and he knew there was only one solution.

“I’m gonna beat that son of a bitch to a pulp,” he muttered and stood up. Dreks had always been on thin ice anyway but upsetting you was the last straw. That meagre man would live his last moments in fear, regretting every time he had treated you with disrespect.

“No, please,” your hands wrapped around his bicep and pulled him back down. And he let himself be pulled because it was you. And there was nothing he would not do for you. You were much closer now, still sniffling a little and he became highly aware of how you were only wearing a large t-shirt, your bare legs tangled around his.

“How dare he treat you like that?” he demanded gruffly, “Not liking something is one thing but, uh, shaming you for something you’d like? That’s just an asshole move.”

You nodded eagerly. “It is,” you agreed quietly, splaying your fingers until your fingertips brushed over his jaw, “It just went to show what I was too scared to admit to myself.”

Paz hummed, relishing in your touch. He angled himself towards you, heart skipping a beat in what suspiciously felt like …. hope. “And that is?”

“That we weren’t all that compatible all along,” you whispered, “I have, uh, I have needs and I deserve someone who, uh, who fulfils them.”

“Needs, hm?” he teased you, running his nose along your exposed throat and hearing your breath shudder did things go him, “that wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened in the living room the other night?”

“Maybe a little,” you breathed, your hand wandering up to the back of his neck and you tilted your head, offering yourself to him and stars how did he get so lucky?

“Have you, um, have you ever heard of free use?” you asked him shyly, gasping when he planted a slow kiss on your neck.

He shook his head, still nipping at your skin.

When you did not say anything more, he pulled away.

“Well, it’s, uh,” you took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze and instead looking at the far-right corner of the ceiling, “it’s something that really interests me. And … if you’re amenable, I’d like to try that. With you.”

He still didn’t say anything.

“You know, like a friends-with-benefits kind of thing?”

“Hm.”

He knew he should probably say more and he did want to assure you that he wanted to do that. With you. Hell, yes.

But for some reason, all he could do was stare and awe at your courage, at your confidence, at how you were sitting there in your lounge outfit and still looked like the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Stars, he really wanted to make you come again.

“Let me,” he cleared his throat, sitting up and spreading his legs which was not something he was aware of until he saw your eyes drift to his crotch and there it was again – that cocky continence that popped up whenever he saw you a little flustered. “Let me do some research, sweetheart, and we will talk about it some more, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled shyly, untangling yourself from him though he still followed you like a puppy when you pulled him to the kitchen, “Dinner?”

*

And that was how he found himself in front of his laptop, reading some explanatory article on free use and getting hard as a rock at the idea that you wanted that with him. But if there was one thing he knew it was that he would make you come several times a day if he only got the chance.

[rocknrolldisaster]

HII :) could I request something with Kurt where him and reader have a park date and after they just sit in the grass together?

No worries if you can't, and take your time!

-@airam1quhs :)

Hey sure 🙂🙂

~~~~~~~~~~

Cloud-watching

Trigger warnings: none really lol

7pm, Aberdeen, Washington. October 1986.

You were 18 and a high school dropout. You met your boyfriend, Kurt in the library. He was in a grade above you. You were friends, but when you left school you cut contact. It was only just recently at a local punk gig where you both met up again, and went from platonic to romantic. He often spends his time either at his job as a janitor at his old school, or at his home, creating songs with his guitar on his tape recorder for his band, Pen Cap Chew, or making some surreal art.

You both are taking a walk round the local park after having lunch at a diner, the skies cloudy, painted a dusky blue. Not really talking much, there’s nothing to really talk about.

You’re shivering in the cold breeze, regretting not bringing a jacket. Looking down at the old path. You feel a warm fabric on your shoulders, you turn your head to see Kurt putting his baggy denim jacket on you. It was cold on the outside but warm on the inside.

“here, thought you needed it..” -Kurt softly looks back at your face.

“thanks” -you reply, looking back forward, putting your arms in the jacket.

“why didn’t you wear a coat?” -He asks, putting his hands in his jean pockets, continuing to walk besides you.

“it was sunny a few hours ago. i didn’t think it would be this cold.” -you reply, feeling the warmth of his jacket.

“probably cause you’re used to that log fire at home.” -he scoffs.

“c’mon you love my house” -you softly laugh.

“nicer than mine” -he can’t help but laugh a bit too, his cute, boyish grin forming on his face.

“nah yours is just as good, your bedroom wallpaper’s bitchin’” -you look back at the ground.

“yeah, bitchin’” -he looks over at you, noticing you looking at the ground, he wraps his arm around your waist and gently pulls you right next to him as you walk, then looking away.

“why are you always so careful?” -you ask, looking at him.

“what do you mean?” -he looks back at you.

“you’re wayyy too gentle man.”

“easy. cause i don’t wanna hurt you, love.” -he looks back in front of him.

you can’t help but smile at the nickname. he hates those cheesy nicknames, but he really does love you.

“i know, but you’re always like…”

He looks back at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

“everytime you touch me it’s really light, like you’re trying to sew without prodding yourself with the needle.”

“nice describing. hum- yeah. i just don’t wanna hurt you..make you uncomfortable, that’s all.”- he nods.

You smile and nod back.

“awe”

“shut up” -he rolls his eyes with a small chuckle.

“Can we sit..? My legs hurt a bit” -you ask, gesturing to the grass next to a tree.

“of course you don’t need to ask..” -he nods and takes your cold hand, instantly warming it up while he guides you to the grass.

You rest the right side of your head on his shoulder.

“damn you’re cold..” -he adds.

“i know..why aren’t you?”

“i dunno…it’s a thing. i’m cold when it’s hot, and i’m hot when it’s cold.” -Kurt’s sharp blue eyes look up at the tall trees surrounding the gates of the park.

“vampire” -you mutter.

“shut upp” -he cracks out a chuckle and ruffles your hair. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“hey!” -you gently push his hands away, laughing.

“calm down dinosaur hands” -He continues laughing and takes your hand again.

“you quit that.” -you point at him, giggling.

“ahh..” -his laugh trails off with a sigh.

You both sit next to the tree. The grass is pretty cold too.

“you seem like one.. whenever I try to give you a call at three in the afternoon you never pick up..” -you continue.

“probably cause teenagers need a hell lot of sleep, y/n”

“Kurt you’re 19” -you giggle and look at him.

“huh, so what? i’m a late teenager, people like to say.” -Kurt grins at you, his blue eyes lightened up. You could look into them for hours.

“i’ll let you off” -you look up at the sky and see a cloud shaped almost like a gorilla.

“woah”

“what, love?” -Kurt tilts his head.

“look at the sky..” -you point at the clouds.

He looks up at the clouds.

“I don’t see the appeal.” -Kurt narrows his eyes before plopping down next to you, laying down on his back on the grass. You do the same.

“that one..right there.” -you point at the cloud which looks like a gorilla.

Kurt now can see it, and he sees the lopsided shape of it. He immediately bursts into laughter.

“what?” -you look over at him planting his face in his palms and rubbing his eyes.

“it looks more like a Mrs ‘Big Bellied’ Baker” -he giggles.

“pfff..” -you cover your mouth with your hand, laughing quietly under it as he laughs again.

“not her bro..she was nice”

“queen of handing out detentions to me” -he replies, taking his hands off his face and grinning again.

“why did she have the belly on her though? was she always pregnant or fat?” -you ask, serious for a moment.

He laughs again, harder this time at your seriousness.

“genuinely..” -you add, trying not to laugh again with a small grin slowly curling on your lips.

“her first name was Julie..I’d call her Jelly Belly Julie if I was still there..” -he admits with a short giggle.

“and yes, it was the fatness, maybe she ate too much Jelly Bellies she turned into one herself” -he adds, but laughs again, with you this time.

“oh god..you’re cruel..” -you shake your head as the laugh wears off.

“to be fair i might even make a drawing of that” -he looks at you.

“smart thinking.” -you respond, looking back at the clouds.

It’s pretty silent for a moment, apart from the chirping of birds on their way to their homes for the night, and the distant sound of cars driving past the park.

Kurt breaks the silence.

“hey look at that one..it kind of looks like a flower..” -he points at a cloud which ‘resembles a flower’

Your eyes dart to every cloud you could see, and you finally find where he’s pointing. It doesn’t even look like a flower.

“you doofus that doesn’t even-“ -you proceed to say, but he cuts you off by gently but firmly placing one hand over your mouth and one hand over your eyes.

“kuuurrtt what are you doing?” -your voice is muffled through his warm hand. You know he’s probably doing something funny.

He takes his hand off your eyes and mouth. When you look at him, he’s holding a few daisies in his hand, out to you.

“You didn’t need to..” -you shake your head, smiling at the flowers.

“I dunno, you deserve it, love..” -he scratches the back of his neck while the other hand it still offering you the hand-picked bouquet.

“C’mon, take em..”

You gently take the flowers and tuck one daisy behind your left ear.

“So pretty man..how did I find you..” -he mutters, gazing at you with his pupils dilated.

~~~~~~~~~~

[local-lover-boy]

I just did Arlecchino's story quest and got this amazing photo where it looks like she's gonna kill Paimon

OKAY BUT FR I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ABT THE STORY QUEST LIKE HOLY FUCK WAS IT GOOD

The motif of a spider throughout it? Badass and unnerving

The scene where Lynette just APPEARS and Lyney questioning her? Hilarious

Fremienet? Adorable as always

Childe showing up, dropping some fauti lore, talking about his siblings for hours, begging for fights with everyone and then leaving and doesn't come back? Iconic

All of the build up about the new project/plan the fauti is working on has me excited for what's coming in future updates. And Pantalone is gonna be there? HELL yeah

Sooooo much background information was given to us about the House of the Hearth and has established that Dottore is old as fuck

Arle's voice is so beautiful, I didn't skip a single line

Chervie and Arle's story growing up? Heart wrenching. The assisted suicide, having to tell Chervie's ghost, mixed with Chervie's realization that she doesn't get to grow up? I'm cryign on the floor

When Chervie talked about wanting to be a bard?! My heart broke. My heart crumbled when she said she would keep playing even if no one listened

THE FREAKING FIGHT SCENE?!!!!? It was so cool my guy. Her second phase was terrifying and she looked so beautiful and deadly during it. And her balancing on strings to glare down at you?! IN HEELS? Hot. And the trios attempt to fight her? Bitchin'. When Fremienet held off her syth all on his own? My heart soared with pride. And when she took us to the crimson moon dimension I was enchanted, it was beautiful and she was terrifying and I was swooning

Neuvillette showing up for a hot sec? I was thrilled

Arle's confession that she already knew what the kids were up to? Incredibly sexy. Love a bitch who knows how to make a power move

[do-you-read-me-00fu]

———————————————

“Batteries?… check. Charged up power cells?…check. New depth module for Dr. Spaghetti?… check.”

Appsro mumbled along to his mental list of gathered supplies, preparing himself for tomorrow.

It felt good to get back into the fray. Being motivated to stay on top of things again, and not mindlessly watching the days idly flash by.

After all, he's about a side quest away from getting cured. Of being ridden of this godforsaken disease that's caused him nothing but headaches, irritating rashes, or at the worst, losing consciousness out of exhaustion.

Course, maybe he could’ve been cured sooner if he didn’t abandon the whole mission to hide away on the island… but that wasn’t his fault. He was abandoned first.

And he didn’t abandoned the mission he… just took a break.

A very long break, though his time on the Floating Island were relatively peacefully, when all he had to worry about was his garden of lantern fruit, or back up batteries for his flashlight.

But now, no longer feeling so scared or alone… it was easier to jump into the waters of this hostile uncharted world again.

He had Neebs by his side again. Same ol’ annoying and, slightly snobby Neebs who, can’t shut up about his over-glorified parking spot from his recent promotion but, he’ll take that talkative hick over Simon and his unreliable ass in a heartbeat.

And with his help, he’ll finally get a step closer to getting the hell off of this miserable planet, if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“Alright, that should cover all my bases for tomorrow,” Appsro mutters, nodding in satisfaction at his progress.

“Now what else do I need ta collect for that hatchin enz—”

“Seems like so much work just to get yourself back home?” The Voice interrupts his train of thought, taunting him with his own voice in it’s usual saturated distortion.

Appsro’s eyes narrow at the unfavorable return of The Voice, rolling his eyes at its presence. He would’ve thought by now the personification of his loneliness and insanity would’ve died when he left that island. Yet, it still haunts him.

Annoyingly so.

“Yeah well, I’m almost done. Gonna get all the ingredients for Big Momma’s egg hatchin soil, then I’ll be cured and can shut off that alien quarantine gun.” He huffs, a slight mix of irritation yet confidence in his tone.

He then turns away from his diving suit’s backpack inventory, stretching a little.

“Still gonna be a few years of waitin around for that damn rescue ship ta come, but I’m just stayin positive here. Better than goin back to that island and havin ta hear you bitchin constantly,” He snorts, definitely intending that last statement to insult The Voice.

Even if… insulting The Voice would just be insulting himself.

But his comment didn’t ruffle it, as The Voice simply replies. “You really think the company has kept their word and will attempt to retrieve you?”

Appsro grimaces at the thought, not before scoffing at it. “I’d fuckin hope they do… and they better. Cause I swear if those bastards don’t, I’m gonna have a few choice words for Alterra when I do eventually get home,” He bares his teeth slightly.

A yawn then escapes his lips, signaling to him it’s about time to rest up. He trails over to his base’s circuit breaker box, opening it up to switch his base’s interior lights to a dimmer setting.

“Mm… you know, there is… another way, to get off this planet?”

Appsro stops mid-task, his hand wavering over the switch. His brows furrowed for a moment, before glancing away from the electrical panel.

“… Whadda mean?”

“The race who came before you, the ones who’ve built the facilities and bases… their portal gates lay around these lands, yes?”

“Uh… yeah?” He raises a brow, answering in a slight snide tone, yet was growing increasingly intrigued.

“There is a grander portal gate… a phasegate they once called it. It connects to portals beyond this planet, to other worlds

They’ve certainly been to your world once… and it is certain a phasegate resides there, somewhere hidden…”

The blue-haired survivor blinks, his eyes slowly widening at what is being implied. “A portal to… my world— Earth? Wait— you’re sayin there’s a giant portal somewhere here that can just take me straight home??” He was almost in awe.

It gently chuckled at his excitement, pleased by his reaction. “But of course… however, it also hides somewhere here. It is much further away. Far away.”

The Voice reluctantly adds. “And the facility baring the weapon needs to be shutdown. It cannot be properly activated if not…”

However, Appsro was just grinning, rubbing his hands together while a plan forms in his mind. If turning off the quarantine platform and sailing around to find a giant portal was all it took, he’d say his luck had finally turned around. Big time.

“Well, if I had some coordinates now, that’d be fuckin perfect.” He chuckles, slightly giddy at this revelation.

“Fuck the rescue ship. I’ll just use that as my ticket outta—“

It dawns on him.

“… How… how do you know this?” He asks in a blunt manner, his brows furrowing in thought as his body tensing up, feeling uneasy.

“Is it so important of how we know?”

“Considerin you’re just a figment of my fucked up imagination, yeah! Yeah I’d like to know how the voice in my head knows shit that I didn’t know anythin about!” Appsro sternly barks, not at all liking the ambiguity of this confrontation.

The Voice didn’t answer back immediately, almost to purposely keep his nerves on the edge.

“Perhaps… we are more than just the voices in your head?” It gradually spoke, it’s voice sounding less and less like his own.

“… What? What are you—“ He mutters in confusion, taking a step back from where he stood.

“What? Oh come now, think about it? You really thought you just, out of the blue, started going insane right after being told you might be?”

He hears The Voice darkly chuckle. “We’ve thought you’d catch on months ago… but no… you just seem to be the oblivious type.”

Appsro clenches his fist, baring his teeth as he points at… well, nothing in particular— but, he’s pretending this mysterious entity is where he’s pointing.

“You better start tellin me what the hell is goin on. If you’re not a voice in my head, then what are you?!” He growls, looking around the room as if it’ll appear before him in the flesh.

“Oh please, there is no need to panic? We are your friends~” The Voice teases him in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"We thought you'd be happy to realize you weren't going crazy after all~"

“F-Fuck off,” He quickly retorts, trying his best to be unwavering despite how freaked out he is.

“Whatever the hell you are, get the hell outta my—“

He’s interrupted by an object swiftly covering his mouth. He jolts, not having enough time to properly process what’s going on as he glances down… only to see a hand being the culprit to shutting him up.

More specifically, his own hand.

A muffled gasp escapes him, in confused panic, he first tries to swing his hand off of his mouth. Only to realize it wasn’t responding, not budging.

He grips his wrist to yank off, and when that doesn’t work, tugs the arm attached to the disobeying hand.

But no matter how much he tried, it wouldn’t move. As if in this moment, it wasn’t him who was in control of his own arm.

“You talk too much, you know that?” The Voice whispers, but not in his head… no, it whispered in his ear. He heard it in his ear.

Appsro immediately jerks his head over to where he heard it… only to see that no one was there to begin with. His breathing heavies.

“Ohhh, you poor, pathetic creature. So scared when he’s no longer in control~” The Voice cackles, amused by the human’s torment.

Muffled spews of words came out of his concealed mouth. He keeps tugging and yanking at his wrist and arm, desperately anything to free himself from his frozen hand, but to no avail.

Something began to creep up behind him, an unidentifiable object causally placed on his shoulder. His body jolts again, yet in this state, he felt unnaturally planted, unable to move even if he wanted to.

Despite feeling the weight of something gripping onto his shoulders, in the corner of his eyes, he still saw nothing.

“Now.” He felt another object touch him, this time, cupping his cheeks.

“Let’s try this again.”

———————————————