#to form. in the style of the first couple issues. and i think the style and colouring still look great.

[atissi]

WOW...............tf2 man. tf2...........................

[kathaynesart]

Took a bit of time to myself to finally sketch out my vision for Frida based off Andy Suriano’s Farewell. More design thoughts under the cut.

I know some were wary of her appearing too feminine, but honestly I enjoyed the challenge of finding a way to feminize the base turtle model and stay true to Andy’s wonderful design. I don’t want her to just look like her brothers in a show that embraces their differences.

The biggest thing I added to her design was an exposed heart. My own little twist inspired by a real life issue some turtles deal with as well as a fitting ode to the artist she is named after, Frida Kahlo, who often drew herself with her heart floating outside of her body. (And yes I made the creative decision to keep her heart at her center as with many turtles.)

This deformity occurred during her mutation where the sudden growth spurt tore open a hole at the seam of her plastron. She has survived as long as she has because of Big Mama who uses mystic wards to keep her heart physically safe and emotionally numb. If you look closely to her plastron in the show it’s not actually a natural body part but rather seems to be an attachment of her trench coat. Likely a false cover to hide her obvious weak spot (or at least that is my head canon!)

I love the idea of her and Donnie having something they can relate to and I’m sure he’ll be happy to design chest armor for her down the line once she’s free of Big Mama. Maybe someday I’ll figure out her full Mad Dogs outfit, but for now this is just her base and bandana.

As each of the boys embodies a shape, I found it all too fitting to have Frida’s be a heart. It’s honestly a cool shape that uses both rounded forms and sharp points, which I think would encapsulate her character well. Prickly on the surface but a softy deep down. I tried to find less typical ways of feminizing her. Sharpening her beak and digits while retaining the style of feminine eyes present in most of the female cast but matching it more closely to the unsettling shape of the eyes on her assistant’s mask.

Her markings are a color flip of Mikey’s, where as his are yellow spots with orange outlines hers are orange with yellow outlines. Coupled with her yellow eyes to match Donnie and Raph, it gives her this fiery vibe that I think still sets her far apart from Mikey.

The mask was honestly the hardest part. I love that it further accentuates her heart motif and made her more expressive, but just giving her the obvious bow and calling it a day did not sit well with me. I decided to try more of a high ponytail look, but I think it still needs some work. I’m pretty sure I like her with yellow though, both as a nod to Jennika and the idea of April giving her something of her own to help form the bond between the two.

Would love to flesh her out further but back to my usual stuff first.

[zorosbeau33]

Oi, you wanna die? Zoro x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble

❖ One Piece, Zoro x gender neutral reader

❖ Scenarios/Drabble, Established Relationship AU, Protective Boyfriend Zoro

❖ TRIGGER WARNING Unwanted advances from a third party, 18+ Only due to theme

❖ wc: 1706

❖ Prompt "You said no and they didn't listen how does your partner respond?" ❖ Masterlist ❖ Luffy Version

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you all enjoy~ A couple people had requested more of the crew so here is Zoro for a start! I wasn't quite sure where to go with it but I think this will suffice for now!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The marines didn’t seem to notice things were amiss, then again none of them probably dared to imagine the legendary Straw Hat pirates would crash a military gala. Zoro himself fidgeted behind his mask, eye sweeping the room and numbering dozens of high ranking officials. This was definitely not his scene, stuffed into a black and sparkly prince costume with black jewel encrusted mask? Yeah not his style at all. The amount of men and women he’d shrugged off, or downright snubbed tonight in favor of finding more alcohol to drink was staggering. Not that he’d noticed, after one dance that he’d only done because Nami threatened him to do it to blend in long before they’d actually broken in. Flirtations were not his strong suit, and being a firm believer in no ending all advances he was disgusted when several people tried to laugh it off and continue in their attempts to touch him. 

All of this has culminated in the pursing of his lips as he tried not to sneer in disgust. Leaning against a pillar during a brief moment of quiet to himself Zoro once again scanned the room. It was beginning to unnerve him, sure he could see Nami fitting in without any issues wrapped in the arms of a high ranking admiral. Hell he could even see precious precocious prince Sanji with a line of women waiting to dance with him. That might come to bite them in the ass soon if the jealous glares of the womens husbands and wives said anything. However Zoro believed the cook would reap what he sowed and that it was none of his business. What nagged at him however was the evident lack of…you.

For three hours they had patrolled the floor and the garden, and yet you were no where to be found. A frown did manage to tug his lips downwards when he moved around a thick crowd of people and up the stairs. Yes, he should leave it be and concentrate on the mission of extracting all the information they could while Nami stole the key off the admiral and passed it along to Luffy, Robin and Brook. But the nagging sensation of you being missing for THIS long? Nothing normally could stir him to panic-reasonable panic. His captain falling in the water or slingshotting directly at his face was reasonable panic. This was not such a time, bubbles seemed to turn to knots in his gut. His scar itched. 

Halfway up the stairs he heard it, unable to hide his reaction as he perked up swinging his head around towards the sound of a familiar laugh. Zoro felt you before he saw you, Haki registering your presence far closer to him than he had anticipated. In fact there in the middle of the group of people he had been made to work around several times, stood your glorious form. Nami had outdone herself with your outfit and Zoro had almost swallowed his tongue on the ship when he first saw you. Now even more so under the glitter and glow of the chandeliers, your laugh made the tension melt from his muscles while he stopped his prowling to take you in. In this atmosphere you were radiant, seemingly to have been born out of the most beautiful emerald just to grace the presence of those around you. The jewel encrusted mask covering your face only added to the mystery around you, causing those around you to lean in all the closer. Perhaps you needed no savior, though Zoro felt it his first duty as the man that belonged to you. Swordsmiths above he was so smitten with you, lingering on the stairs above your group to watch you, scowl melting into a tender smile. He would have to apologize to Nami and Luffy later, his sword was supposed to belong to his captain then the mission. But here the only person he could allow claim to him was your radiance. A betrayal he was sure they would understand, it was common knowledge to all of the crew that his heart and soul had found their home in your hands. 

So imagine his rage when your smile fell away into a look of shock, yanking your arm back from the grips of a pot bellied slobbering ‘gentleman’. Capable like he knew you were, you quickly extricated yourself from the pudgy admiral who reeked of weaks old cheese and beer. The gaudy prince attire nearly popping buttons off as the heavy drinker puffed himself up indignantly. Zoro would miss the next few moments as he rushed down the staircase and began to force his way through the gasping and shocked onlookers who had until this moment been fawning over your intelligence and eloquent words. His fury was three fold for he knew how hard you had practiced to learn all these speech patterns and points of talk to be a good distraction as needed by the plan. However when the noise of a slap rang out he couldn’t help but bark a command for the people in front to move.

Being all of military standing or married into, they felt his haki and heard his commands and moved apart at once. Years of training telling even the higher ranks this must be someone  with power and the gravitas of higher station To do such a thing at the military gala. Relief infantesimally warmed his cold gaze, the sound of the slap had in fact come from your strike and not the admirals. Zoro knew this man too well, he’d bought and blustered his way up to the position he was in now, and falling out of graces with Akainu’s strength based rule had resorted to underhanded trickery and binge drinking. 

“Once a sleeze ball always a sleezeball.” scoffed someone in the crowd as a woman pulled you closer to herself and away from the enraged man before you. Bits of wien splattered down his front as he spluttered and clutched his hand to his chest, beer belly nearly busting his gaudy belt buckle. 

“Admiral he started it! They told him no and he tried to force it! Should we court marshal him?” A young Captain stepped forward to report to Zoro, also taking on a defensive stance in front of you. To your credit you were playing the distressed and meak house spouse very well, although he knew just from looking your strike had most probably broken at least two of the mans meaty fingers. Thankfully it seemed his display had caused others to believe him to be an important military official rather than raise suspicion about his person. Zoro gathered himself together, he couldn’t afford to make too much of a scene here. While everyones masks and disguises made the party much safer for them to intervene. They did not need to draw to many eyes upon themselves or else the costumed Zoro’s in the crowd might jog someones mind to realize the real one was standing in front of them. After that it would only be a matter of minutes before the others would get picked out from the crowd as well. 

He needed to protect you, but in a way that would seem appropriate and take attention off of you both and quickly. Squaring his shoulders Zoro tutted and switched all his weight to his right foot, arm resting on the hilt of his single sword. Adapting the posture of a haughty admiral was not difficult it often amused him when he was a bounty hunter to see all of their posturing, the arrogance was easy to emulate. A flick of the hand had several people stepping forward seizing the admirals wrists and forcing them behind him. 

“This is a party, I advise you keep your voice down before I report your misdeeds to headquarters directly…” His deep voice rumbled and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Take him out of here without a scene, knock him out if you have to. The part-the gala is a place only those of high standing are allowed. Such behavior will not be tolerated, have him placed on trial…tomorrow morning he can sit in the cells for tonight.” 

The man bellowed his outrage, stating his rank and to unhand him right this moment. In an instant Zoro’s hand was around his skull, and squeezing. Rage turned into pain and he gasped spluttering in pain, the captains almost dropping him in shock at the speed of Zoro’s moves. 

“OI…do you wanna die?” Zoro growled lowly so only he and the two captains could hear. They froze and stared in shock and fear. The rage he had felt upon seeing the man place his hand on you without your consent, causing his pupils to dilate. Haki spreading over his fingertips hidden only by the gloves that accented his outfit. Blood pounding in his ears, ready to lay this man to sleep for his crime. The smell of the admiral wetting himself hardly registering to his senses, how dare this scum…Barely reeling himself in Zoro leaned back out and let him go. “You already placed your hands on my partner and now you disgrace this place. Get him out of our sight.” 

Turning quickly on his heel Zoro took his handkerchief out and wiped the makeup from the admiral off his fingers in a show of disgust. Reeling in his rage before stopping in front of you again, thanking the woman in a low murmur as he took you from her grip. People bowed and scuttled out of his way while he hurriedly guided you away to the gardens, arm wrapped securely around your waist. Once in the open air he sighed in relief and slowed down checking on you now as he readied himself for Nami to beat him over the head once you returned to the ship. Yes you could have defended yourself, and you certainly had but he would always be here to ensure that you would be okay. Even if you teased him for his bad acting skills for the rest of his life, you being safe and your boundaries being respected were far more than worth it in his mind.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

☕️ CM Meet Cute Fics 📚

Hey friends! I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who participated - You are appreciated and the diversity only makes these events better.

Without further ado, here are all of the entries + recs for the Meet Cute Challenge! 🤗

@emberfrostlovesloki 's Masterlist of Entries: This lovely prolific writer has entered several fics, which include Hotch/Reader, Emily/Reader, and Spencer/Reader fics! Check out their page for even more!

P.S. At the end of this post, I included all my fics for this challenge!

SFW S.R./GN!Reader

Heart Language by @foxy-eva: Spencer has a crush on his doctor (and the feeling is mutual)

Warmth by @cecedownbad: A mystery man stumbled on to you, his gestures alone changing the dim scenery into a bright fantasy.

And in the Beginning... by @milla984: After spending a day at D.C.’s multifandom convention, Spencer spills his coffee on Reader.

(Not So) Stupid Things by @railingsofsorrow: Reader is a detective on a case the FBI is called to work on. While trying to make a good first impression, they forget that Spencer doesn't shake hands.

Frights & Fractures by @therealmsdelulu: Spencer accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and Reader, a scare actor, breaks character to help.

Style Theory: Fashion student Reader meets their favorite scholar and teaches him a lesson in self-love.

SFW S.R./Fem!Reader

The Perfect Seat by @/foxy-eva: Reader's never liked crowded trains until a handsome stranger fell right into her lap.

Funny Thing Fate: Autistic!Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Coffee Caramels by @007reid: Reader sits next to a stranger in the theater, but the two end up bonding when there's a technical glitch.

Every Single Day by @astrophileous: When his daughter demands to hear the story of how Spencer and Reader met, he must oblige.

War and Peace & Coffee by @drgenius-reid: Spencer meets a lovely stranger in a coffee shop where they read together.

NSFW S.R./Fem!Reader

In Full Bloom by @/foxy-eva: A random interaction between Spencer Reid and Reader leads to weeks of longing and yearning until they decide they have spent enough time being strangers

Get Lucky: It’s 3AM and a pipe burst in Reader’s apartment. She is soaked, angry, and forgot her wallet and phone. Her neighbor Spencer tries his best to make the night not terrible.

Elevator Pitch by @reiderwriter: Getting trapped in an elevator is never fun, but at least the attractive man sharing the metal box of death has an interesting idea about how to can pass the time.

And for my Next Trick... by @reidmotif: Reader and Spencer unknowingly match costumes at a Halloween party.

Assorted Fics (A.H., D.M., E.P., T.L., P.G.)

What a Ride by @alluring-andrayav: [SFW, Hotch/GN!Reader] Whilst on a bus ride to work, Reader gets knocked into a very handsome strangers lap.

Midnight by @foxy-eva: [NSFW, E.P./Fem!Reader] Emily is the most stunning woman Reader has ever seen, so she makes sure their night together doesn’t end anytime soon.

Falling for Me Already? by @alluring-andrayav: [SFW, Derek/Fem!Reader] It's Reader's first day of work, and her heel breaks. Thankfully, Derek is there to catch her.

Supervisory Special Agent by @alluring-andrayav: [SFW, Derek/Fem!Reader] Reader already met Derek, but neither of them realize it for a ridiculously long time because she has much bigger issues to worry about.

October by @gaelic-symphony: [SFW, Temily] The couple arrives in a couple's costume.

Adding It All Up by @masterwords: [SFW, Hotch/William LaMontagne Jr.] Hotch follows Reid and Jack into a haunted house. Inside he meets a ghost and stumbles right into some unexpected arms.

Collision by @codename-mom: [Gen Fic, Hotch & Penelope] A brand-new BAU is forming but there is still someone missing. The team masterpiece: a technical analyst.

Co-Creator NSFW Entries (S.R./Fem!Reader)

Devil in the Backseat: Reader is a little too much for Spencer (he’s into it).

Yellow Light: Everyone thinks Reader is dangerous. Probably because she’s Cat’s sister. But is that why Spencer likes her?

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

All Legs: Tall!Reader. Spencer meets a woman at an event and finds he really wants to be under her heels.

Co-Creator SFW Entries (S.R./Fem!Reader)

Serendipitous: Spencer’s pretty sure Penelope mixed up his blind date.

Dead Air: Professor Reid is hesitant to be a guest on his old student’s true crime video series, but is surprised to find it’s not so bad.

Porcelain: Autistic!Reader has a meltdown in the cafe. Luckily, there is a Dr. Reid nearby.

Baggage Claim: Autistic!Reader is having a hard time at the airport.

Mister Spencer: Reader has a crush on her child’s teacher.

Maddening One, My Goddess: Spencer has a one night stand… on February 13th. The next day, he is confronted with a familiar face on his pre-planned double date.

Studious Shadow: Reader’s crush won’t stop avoiding her at work and she thinks he might hate her.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

Happy Reading!

Is your entry missing? DM me and I'll add you!

[nonuify]

Omg, I just read your Joshua headcanons and… WOW! Absolutely speechless. Could you maybe do it with Jun too <3? Just like the person that requested the Joshua one, I’d love to read both BF and NSFW headcanons, but if you don’t have time, I’d love some NSFW Jun headcanons, hehehe. Have a nice day, love your work :)

ᝰ.ᐟ 🥣 — M.JH ; ! boyfriend headcanons

sfw & nsfw is included ! minors do not interact 18+.

📓 ! I think junhui wouldn’t be talkative at first not bc he doesn’t want to but because he is too shy or scared to fuck up infront of a beauty like you.

📓 ! when he warms up to you I think he’s very clingy like it’s so adorable, like everything about him you would know & vice versa.

📓 ! cuddling is a must for you both, like attachment issues? yes you guys are so physical, & you aren’t shy about it cuddling, kissing, holding hands that’s just your thing.

📓 ! random thought but when you saw junhui’s drama you sulked cuz your boyfriend is your boyfriend like what??? he spent the whole night apologizing in every way possible making it up for you & showing that your his :(.

📓 ! junhui loves to send you couples stuff & say “could be us” then with a heart emoji like yes boyfriend of the century.

📓 ! ou you have to tell him that you love him before practice or anything he has or my man is gonna sulk!

📓 ! I think he would send you pics of something saying it reminded him of you because huihui is so whipped for you like-.

📓 ! oh you guys would do the eyeball color bracelets trend like it’s so you guys.

📓 ! sometimes I think jun likes to be a little spoon when you guys cuddle, he feels so much warmth & love from I can’t my finger on it it’s seems so him coded.

📓 ! you guys would go to these cat cafes together & like spend all the day laughing at how the cats are cute, plus hui would kiss you like every second bc of how cute you are !!.

📓 ! with fights I think junhui is more well avoidant of arguments, I think you & junhui would have a more communication style of arguments, you guys would avoid the actual yelling, & dramatic scenes.

📓 ! also I think jun loves leaving hickeys on you but not on a sexual basis but moreover because he thinks it’s a sacred way of showing his love & affection.

📓 ! also he would have a wall of your pics in poloroids like it’s so cute ( you have it too btw ).

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ nsfw starting from this point.

📓 ¡ now I think junhui could be a sub or dom but totally leans in a dom side but he’s such a fucking tease not a mean dom no but he’s looves to tease you.

📓 ¡ like I said junhui looves to mark you up every inch of your body like from neck to ass to boobs he will not be satisfied till he marks you up.

📓 ¡ his foreplay is crazyyyy, like he doesn’t get to babymaking that fast he will tease you till your begging, tears are falling down your cheeks, I think he loves to play with your tits & clit so much edging you till you squirt from being overwhelmed lol.

📓 ¡ idk why but I think he has a lil bilingual kink here or there, like he’d call you his dirty princess in mandarin & you don’t know what he’s saying, you’ll just moan out from how hot he is saying that.

📓 ¡ when he subs, you both love when you put a lil heart butt-plug in him like my baby is gonna be so hard just from the thought of that.

📓 ¡ junhui has a must to words of affirmation during intimacy even if it’s a simple “I love you” it means so much to him to know the feeling of during love making .

📓 ¡ he has a thing for seeing his cum all over your back & ass, it just makes him wanna go for more seeing all his liquids all over you, assures him that your his & only his.

📓 ¡ oh he looves you riding him, it’s his fav position he absolutely fucking adores it !! like seeing you all needy bouncing on him tits going up & down with you ugh :(

📓 ¡ also he adores dryhumping omg, like he would absolutely fuck you just from clothes on, seeing the big patch forming on your panties would make him hazy.

📓 ¡ huihui is obsessed with you, when you dress all up pretty for him in a pretty lacy set with some stockings god you know your in for a night.

📓 ¡ I just have a thought of him having his cock pierced like it’s so fuckin hot when the slides in you, you feel that cold feeling of the metal in you, you would just scream from that.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! i hope you enjoy this bby!!!

[snalsupremacy]

12 MANGA BY LGBT+ CREATORS

Happy pride month!! My time has come. Years of seeking lgbt manga lead me some great finds, and here's all the ones written by openly LGBT mangaka!

1- Our Dreams At Dusk by Yuhki Kamitani, an asexual x-gender creator!

A classic in the lgbt manga niche. Literally google "lgbt manga" and you'll find this one in the top results. It's popular for a reason! Starting Tasuku, a gay teen, the manga deals with members of the queer community from all walks of life living in a small town, and how being queer impact their lives. Yuhki Kamitani's poetic and abstract story telling abilities enhances a simple story line into one of the best emotional roller-coasters you'll ever ride on. TW: Attempt suicide, mentions of said attempt, groping of a minor, lots of homophobia

2- I Think Our Son is Gay by Okura, a gay creator!

An ADORABLE story about a progressive mom trying to learn more about how to support her closeted gay son without making it obvious that she knows. Super sweet and adorable, and the author's notes were so touching! queer joy all around

TW: Discussions and verbal displays of homophobia

3- Boys Run The Riot by Keito Gaku, a transmasc creator!

Another classic in this niche. The story follows a trans boy named Ryo who bonds with the trouble student Jin over men's fashion, and together they decide to start a fashion brand. It's refreshing to see the struggles of a trans boy portrayed so genuine and authentically.

TW: Gender dysphoria, outing

4- My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Kabi Nagata, a lesbian creator!

Kabi Nagata is an biographical essayist that publishes all her work in manga form. In one of her most popular works, My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, Kabi tells the series of the events that led her to sleeping with a lesbian sex worker. Bold and authentic, Kabi has no fear to portray the ugly and fucked up parts of mental illness, in turn crafting an intimate and touching story.

TW: Self-harm, eating disorder, lots of discussions of mental illness, sexuality, and gender.

5- The Bride was a Boy by Chii, a transfem creator!

The biographical tale of the author, Chii, from realizing she's trans to meeting her husband, all told through 4-koma stories! The adorable chibi art-style and light-heartedness of this manga is sure to warm anyone's hearts! It's great to see the story of a trans woman told in such an optimistic and happy way. Details like the pop-ups of information about LGBT and Trans issues to the game-board illustrating her transition journey really show how proud Chii is of her identity, as she should!

TW: None that I remember

6- My Brother's Husband by Gengoroh Tagame, a gay creator!

The #1 non-sexual Bara, made by the #1 bara author. Tagame may be more known for his NSFW works, but his first SFW serialization shows the experience he's gained through the decades working on manga, even winning multiple awards (-) . After single father Yaichi's estranged brother passed away, Yaichi gets visited by his Canadian husband, Mike. A beautiful and sweet story of dealing with loss and overcoming homophobia, ft the cutest little child character and a very healthy divorced couple!

TW: Nudity (Technically non-sexual, but Tagame is a bear and it shows), Grief and loss of a loved one

7- To Strip The Flesh by Oto Toda, a transmasc creator!

An anthology book of various stories by Toda. The first of which, To Strip the Flesh (Where the manga gets its namesake) is inspired by the author's experience with dysphoria and coming out as a trans men. Toda was the assistant of Tatsuki Fujimoto (Chainsaw Men) during the serialization of Fire Punch.

TWs: Gender Dysphoria, gore, mutilation (no blood shown), house invasion, nudity, hunting and skinning of animals, gunshot wound, mysoginy

8-Gay Fuuzoku no Mochigi-san - Sexuality Is Life - by Mochigi, a gay creator!

Originally published on Twitter, Mochigi tells of his experience running away from home and coming to work in the bustling Shinjuku Ni-Chome, Tokyo's gay neighborhood. Through his sex work and work in gay bars, Mochigi tells an authentic story of the ups and downs of the gay culture in Tokyo.

TWs: Though not visually graphic, it goes into a lot of details about gay sex work

9- Vassalord by Nanae Chrono, a transmasc creator!

Y'all aren't ready for the synopsis... ok so this cyborg vampire who works for the Vatican is frenemies with this fuckboy vampire. They fight then make up then kiss and break-up (YOU!). Together they go on missions set by the church. Extremely emo and edgy vampires, actually really great action, and all the charm of early 2000's BL, now with extra blood! Nanae Chromo came out on twitter as trans only recently, and many news sources including Anime List still lists him as Female unfortunately.

TW: Bloody fights, enough homoeroticism to make your teeth rot

10- X-Gender by Asuka Miyazaki, a X-gender creator!

Miyazaki (AFAB) realizes at age 33 that they not only are X-gender, but like woman as well! The relatable and awkward biographical story of the author's experiences and new discoveries about their identity and the community. The manga also takes the time to explain all the terms used in the LGBT community, making it very accessible to those out of the loop! Also, the art-style is very cute.

TW: Lots of talks about sex and gender, possibly other things as I have not read it yet

11- Why I Adopted my Husband by Yuta Yagi, a gay creator!

The cute auto biography of Yuta and Kyota, a gay couple who have been dating for almost 20 years. The manga talks about not only their relationship, but also what it's like to live as a gay couple in Japan, and the draws and benefits of adoption as a way to seek the same legal rights of straight couples.

TWs: None

• Final Word •

I made this list to celebrate all the brave people who are open about their identities, but I also wanna point out that there are incredible LGBT manga out there written by anonymous or even straight creators!

Happy pride month to everyone but specially all the people living in places where it's not safe to be openly LGBT, everyday that you breathe is an act of rebellion, and we should be proud of that!

Here's a quickie of some other LGBT manga that didn't make the list for some reason or another- hmu if u want more details on them or just wanna talk about lgbt manga in general!

[straylightdream]

what am I missing? | 3racha

act one: “Maybe you should have a friend help you.”

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

series masterlist

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐚𝐧: these will be shorter Drabble style chapters. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. Please fill out this form.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole, oral (fem & male receiving), piv, unprotected sex, groping, threesome, use or traffic light system, choking, and spanking, more warning to come.

The feeling that you’ve missed out on something your whole life isn’t something you can’t seem to push away. In your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you repressed your sexual awakening.

Your lackluster sex life has only been linked to your commitment to someone else in the form of a relationship. In all your years you’ve only had sex once outside of a relationship. Your one attempt at friends with benefits crashed and burned when Mingyu finally slept with you once and got a girlfriend the following week.

Your weird relationship with sex and its connections to intimacy might have to do with your own struggle of self acceptance. You’ve always grown up not happy with your own body. You’ve never been a small girl and you thought you had grown to accept that, but deep down inside you haven’t. You have a wall built up that allows you only to sleep with someone you “love” because you think they’re attracted to you.

The high walls you built up protecting your heart might have gotten in the way of truly letting you explore your sexual side.

Your sex life has been connected to two boys. First there is your long term ex boyfriend Yunho. Your former best friend turned boyfriend. Your relationship bloomed in high school in an interesting way. Fresh out of a relationship Yunho admitted to you he liked you after a night of drinking hidden away from his unknowing parents. Your heart raced at the thought of your best friend liking you back. Soon after a drunken kiss that night you were a couple. Your relationship with Yunho wasn't always sunshine and roses. You broke up often and he even dated girls during your break ups. But for some reason you couldn’t let him go.

Your sex life with Yunho was vanilla at best. The boy barely knew how to make you come. He tried his hardest, but many nights you were left faking it. Being with Yunho was a learning experience for both of you. His only experience was with his ex before you. Many nights you fumbled around his bed trying new positions but often not succeeding.

Six long years of your life were spent with him. With Yunho there was no dramatic fall out. A small break up had happened the same as many times before. But this time you were trying to be friends. In this short period of time he met Yuqi and fell hard.

You watched him fall in love with a girl as your friendship drifted apart. Soon you led completely different lives and didn’t talk anymore.

After Yunho and you broke up you grew closer with Chan, Changbin, and Jisung. Their friendship was truly what got you through your heartbreak. Many nights were spent sitting on Changbin's couch watching as Chan attempted to make a beat while Jisung freestyle rapped. Your time with your friends really made you feel like yourself again.

Your second sexual encounter was Mingyu, a six one boy who was too good looking for his own good. You worked in a restaurant with him and Chan. For a while he was a part of your friend group. Your friendship started out with innocent flirting, and soon led to something more. Anyone who worked with you assumed you were a couple. Mingyu loved to make you blush. He couldn’t seem to talk to you without flirting with you. Innocent flirting turns to something more when he texted you asking if he could come over to kiss you. With butterflies in your stomach you told him to come over.

One month and three days you spent hanging out and making out with Mingyu. Many times with you shoved up against the wall kissing you like his life depended on it. From the first kiss you told him you wouldn’t sleep with him. Your resolve for your one rule faded when he picked you up one night at two in the morning. In the backseat of his car after he promised he wouldn’t hurt you. He made a promise that even if he didn’t like what he saw under your clothes he would still want you, and that quickly disappeared three days later. It all came crashing down when a completely oblivious Miyeon told Mingyu she liked him. What followed was an extremely awkward conversation with Mingyu after work standing in front of his car.

Your failed relationship with Mingyu didn’t break your heart, because truly you didn’t love him. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though. You trusted him to not use you. The whole experience in the backseat of his car left you feeling discouraged. Wondering if anyone would ever truly like what they saw when it came to you.

You kept your little rendezvous with Mingyu a secret. Deciding not to tell your three best friends about the mistake you made. You couldn’t push away the nagging thought that maybe Mingyu didn’t like what he saw when you were naked in the back of his car together.

Sitting on the floor of Chan’s apartment you can’t help but be lost in your own thoughts. You’ve been experiencing an internal crisis recently. Yesterday you had another sexual encounter that did nothing but discourage your confidence. Changbin set you up on a date with one of his coworkers, Dawon. Your date was pretty nice and after you took the big step to sleep with him. Everything was going well but you could tell that he wasn’t into you the whole time. He was a man desperately trying to get off. Laying on his bed staring at the ceiling nowhere close to your own release you instantly regretted your choice.

A heavy sigh passes your lips looking up at Chan. Closing his laptop he looks at you knitting your eyebrows together. With Chan, things have always been easy. He’s always been a form of emotional support for you since you met. He has a special ability to read how you’re feeling. You’ve never been really able to hide anything from him.

“(YN)?”

Picking a piece of greasy pepperoni off your pizza you hold it up before tossing it into your mouth. Glancing up you find him still staring at you.

“What’s with the heavy sigh?” he asks, sitting his laptop on the couch next to him.

“Nothing,” you don’t know why you’re not just being up front with him. If anyone isn’t going to judge you it’s Chan.

“Just tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want to ask twenty questions right now.”

Sitting your pizza down on the plate you look up at him. You suddenly feel embarrassed at the thought of bringing your sex life with Chan.

“You remember my date with Dawoon?”

Slowly he nods, “was the date bad?”

“The date was fine. What happened after just left me not feeling the best.”

“Did he hurt you?” Chan was starting to sound angry. He’s always been very protective of you.

“No, not at all. I was just left feeling not necessarily satisfied.” How do you tell your best friend who you have never spoken to about sex that you tried having sex on the first date and the guy didn’t even try to get you to orgasm.

“Wait, did you have sex with him?” His eyebrows shot up and he looked at you like you told him the most insane thing he had ever heard in his life.

“Yes.” Sheer embarrassment flushed over you suddenly. Your whole body burned up to the tip of your ears.

“How bad was it?”

“Let’s just say he was desperate to finish and I didn’t you know…” you would rather the earth swallow you whole then say the word orgasm to Chan.

“Cum?”

You nod silently.

“How was he that selfish?”

“I don’t know but it was a terrible experience. I feel like everyone has an amazing sex life and I’m just lost, not sure what it’s like.”

His eyebrows knit together as he stares at you for a long moment. You can’t push away the embarrassment you’re feeling after even telling Chan about this.

“Maybe you should have a friend help you out.” His comment catches you off guard and you can’t help but wonder if he’s offering his service or if suggesting you should ask someone else.

“Maybe.” You respond.

[runesandramblings]

I Just Want You

Word Count: 1400

Pairings: Fili x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Royal wedding plans begin to take their toll, but there's only one thing you require to make the day perfect.

Requested by anon so I don't have a way to tag you I'm sorry! But I hope you enjoy. 😇

“What do you think, nâtha? The lilies or the orchids?” 

You buried your face in your hands. The pounding against your temples, something that had become a familiar sensation as of late, began to worsen as you tried to piece together any coherent sentence. There were only three words that came to mind, the same three words you’d uttered countless times over the past several weeks. 

“I don’t know.” 

The joy of yours and Fili’s engagement had subsided the moment you’d broken the news to your families. With FIli being the crown prince and heir, there was no way Dis and your mother would let it be a simple affair. Invitations had already been sent out to every corner of Middle Earth, and you’d been occupied from sunup to sundown every day with planning. The dress, the flowers, the food… 

You were from a simple merchant family. The pomp and ceremony of royalty made no sense to you. Where you’d grown up, weddings were a simple affair. Most couples in your small village chose to elope rather than go through the bother of an elaborate ceremony. You’d have been more than happy to do the same. However, your mother and future mother in law had both been quick to dismiss the idea. 

“It’s no matter, dear. We have time to decide.” Your mother pulled several small scraps of fabric, ranging from the purest snow white to the creamier shades of ivory. She laid them out against the table and gestured to each. “Which color do you think for the dress? We’ve got to begin sewing soon if it will be ready in time.” 

Before you had the chance to respond, Dis laid out several different styles of gold and silver fabric beside the scraps your mother had laid down. 

“And what of the trim? You’ve got to decide if you prefer gold accents or silver. But I do suppose that would have an effect on the choice of flowers…” She trailed off, lost in her own world of thought. 

You could feel your pulse radiating against your temples as the migraine that had been forming worsened. This was the issue exactly. It wasn’t just selecting a dress. It was selecting a type of fabric, a trim, lace… And that had to coordinate with the flowers or else…

Or else what, exactly? Would the world cease to exist if the flowers and trim didn’t go together? Would Mahal himself descend from the sky if the food and the wine didn’t pair perfectly? 

You looked from where you sat at the head of the long, carved wood table to the opposite end. Fili sat on his own, silently working through a stack of parchments Thorin had given him. He hadn’t been overly involved in the plans, as your mothers had taken over almost immediately. But you’d expressed to him how stressful the process had been, and he’d decided to come sit with you for moral support. He met your gaze and gave you a gentle smile. It sent butterflies through your stomach, as it always did. He was all you needed, truly. You could get married in the same, tattered old dress he’d met you in carrying a bouquet of wildflowers for all you cared. As long as he was there, it was all you required.

“(Y/N)?” 

Your mother’s voice brought you back to the less desirable reality. She and Dis were both staring at you expectantly, the colored swatches of cloth still spread out across the table in front of you. 

“Silver or gold-”

“First, she has to decide on a shade of white. Which shade do you prefer, (Y/N)?” 

“Well it might help to decide on the accent first, then she can pick a white that goes with that.” 

As Dis and your mother began speaking over each other you buried your face in your hands once again. The pounding against your temples became rhythmic, a steady thump that seemed to grow louder and louder as their voices overlapped. You felt as though you might go mad if the pounding and the questions didn't stop soon.

“(Y/N)-” Dis started. 

“I don’t know!” You cried again, finally raising your head to look at the two of them. “I don’t know, okay? And I don’t care. Just pick a color. Whatever you both want.” 

You flung yourself back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. It was unlike you to have such an outburst, but you were exhausted. There were too many questions, too many decisions. You’d be more than happy for them to make the choices and just tell you when and where to show up on the day of. 

“And what do you want, amrâlimê?” 

The three of you turned your attention to the end of the table as Fili piped up. He’d laid his parchments to the side. His eyes were not on either of your mothers, but on you. You could see the genuine concern etched in the lines that furrowed between his brows. He knew the planning had begun to take a toll, and now he was able to see the full amount of stress that you were under. 

You felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes. 

“I just want you.” You said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your mothers exchanged shameful glances across the table, finally seeming to realize just how much they’d piled on you at once. FIli’s expression softened as he continued to look at you, his eyes never breaking away to look at anyone else in the room.

“Could you leave us for a moment?” He asked. 

Dis and your mother stood silently, collecting the fabric and other wedding items they’d strewn across the table. You felt Dis place a hand apologetically on your shoulder as she followed your mother from the room. 

Once they’d gone Fili’s smile widened. He extended his hand to you, gesturing for you to come join him at the end of the table. You stood and quickly walked around to where he sat. Once you were within his arm’s reach he grabbed you, pulling you down by your waist and plopping you into his lap. As soon as your legs touched his he stretched his face up to your neck, peppering light kisses up and down your collarbones. You giggled as his mustache braids tickled the exposed skin of your neck, his lips working their way up to plant kisses along your cheeks. He finally found your mouth and pressed his delicately against yours, making it the gentlest and sweetest kiss of them all. 

You felt a contented sigh escape your lips as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. You rested your chin on top of his head as your fingers began to slowly brush through his hair, careful as always not to disturb his perfectly placed braids. The feeling of his arms wrapped snugly around your waist had already alleviated the nervous pit in your stomach, and you wondered how it could have only been moments ago that you were stressed to the point of breaking down in tears. He was your safe place, your calm within the storm. 

“We don’t have to make it into a spectacle, you know.” He murmured into the collar of your dress. “It can just be the two of us, whenever and wherever you want.” 

“We can’t.” You said, wistfully. If only it were that simple. 

“And who says so?” 

“You’re the prince-”

“To hell with that.” He said, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “Thorin’s already given his blessing for us to skip the whole affair.” 

“But our mothers-”

“To hell with them too.” His expression quickly changed from confidence to one of fear as he looked over his shoulder. “Don’t tell them I said that.” 

You giggled again, pulling him closer to you as he nuzzled his face into your neck once more. 

“Amrâlimê, I will go get Balin right now and have him perform the ceremony in this very room.” He continued. “I don’t need the flowers or the food or the party. I just want you, too.” 

You pulled back again, just enough to look down into his eyes. He was smiling up at you, his eyes sparkling with the same joy as they had the first day you met. He was all you needed, now and forever. 

“I think that sounds absolutely perfect.” You said, brushing back a few loosened strands of his golden hair. “On one condition.”

He looked at you expectantly as you continued. 

“You have to tell our mothers.”

nâtha - daughter

amrâlimê - my love

[seakicker]

☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

[its-time-to-write]

AH I've been waiting for requests to be open! i love love loveeee your writing!! I've been in dire need (if you feel like writing it lol) of reader comforting jamie after the locker room scene w his dad at wembley.. like maybe instead of roy hugging him the reader swoops in? you do you! thanks!! <3

Listened to 17 Pushing 24 by Sabrina Sterling while writing this. Highly recommend ✌️🥲

i know what i’m doing

Sometimes Jamie wonders if you two are attracted to each other due to your compelling need to take care of everything. 

It certainly was difficult at first, both of you with residual issues due to your upbringing. His as the only son of a single mother, yours as the oldest daughter of a large family. 

Those types of child-caretakers aren’t always compatible. Jamie’s much more lighthearted about the way he tries to control everything, and you’re more serious.

You’d think it would be easier, both of you taking care of each other, except for the small fact that neither of you were capable of accepting help from the other. 

It came to a head one evening when Jamie came home to you crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the tasks you had yet to complete before going to bed. 

“Love, I can help you,” Jamie had said.

“No! It’s my laundry and my responsibility and you already have enough to do without me burdening you even more,” you replied before dissolving into more tears. 

So yeah, it was a whole thing. It involved therapy and everything.

But you’re moving past it. You’re both getting to a point where each of you can receive the same love that you’re giving, however strange it may feel. Jamie even let you stay home from work to take care of him when he was sick a couple weeks ago, something that was pretty much unheard of up to this point.

You’re channeling the need to control things in healthy ways, like having all of AFC Richmond over to Jamie’s giant house for potluck-style family dinners. Or hosting non-video game nights, where FIFA is strictly banned as a form of entertainment. Or themed outings where everyone had to dress as something that shared the first letter of their name and then go see a movie at the local theater. 

Stuff like that. 

You’re the brains, Jamie is the execution. You can see Isaac side-eyeing him a couple times, making mental notes about temporary captains in the event that he can’t play a match. 

Jamie’s gone from Richmond’s resident prick to Richmond’s resident morale-booster.

He comes home one evening with brighter eyes than normal.

“Babe,” he calls before he’s even in the door, “Coach said I can go back to being a prick again.”

“Ted said that?” you ask from your spot on the couch. You’re laying down length-wise with your legs dangling off the end.

“Fuck no,” Jamie replies, “Roy.”

“Oh,” you say as Jamie plops his bags down. You sit up a little so he can have a spot on the couch. He pats his lap so you lay back down, head on his thigh.

“Roy said that Ted fucked me up, so ‘when it’s appropriate’” (he uses air quotes) “I can be a prick to the other team.”

“That’s nice, babe,” you say, “but how do you know when to do that?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach said he’d give me a signal. Don’t know what it is, though.”

You say, “hm,” then lapse into comfortable silence, Jamie’s hand running through your hair.

—

The prick signal worked so much better than you could have thought. It’s the best. You see Jamie go from playing defensively to being completely offensive, screwing with the other team’s heads. You scream and clap as he scores, while Keeley practically throttles you with joy.

Now it’s late after the game, and the lads are all over at Jamie’s. They’re absolutely exhausted, but buzzing with energy. It isn’t until about 1am that they disperse to the various guest bedrooms and pass out on top of each other. You catch a glimpse of Dani cuddling Jan Maas who’s asleep in a starfish position as Colin sneaks in to draw on their faces with sharpie. 

“Don’t tell anyone it was me,” he whispers. You zip your lips and head to the master bedroom and pretty much fall onto the right side of the bed.

Jamie comes in shortly after, saying something about Isaac telling a bedtime story. He burrows under the covers and you quietly shriek because he’s placed his ice-cold hands on your ribcage.

“How are you so cold?” you whisper.

Jamie shrugs sleepily. “Dunno,” he whispers back. “Got ice in my veins, I guess.”

You smile. “You’re tired, aren’t you babe?”

Jamie shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “Nah, ain’t tired. Thinkin’ about our match against Man City.”

He says it casually. Too casually.

You see, both you and Jamie have this thing where the more nonchalantly you say something, the more important it is.

You prop yourself up a bit so you can face him and scratch his head. He sighs and leans in.

“You nervous?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head. “Not to see the team. Lookin’ forward to seeing Pep. It’s just…” he trails off.

You whisper, “Yeah. I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. Don’t forget that. I’m here no matter what.”

Jamie says, “hm,” and then he’s asleep.

—

You’re running. 

You’re running faster than any of the boys on the pitch had run the entire match, and you’re pushing past people in a way that Keeley would later describe as “absolutely fucking feral.”

It happened like this:

The game was over. Richmond lost to Man City.

You were on your way to see Jamie and the rest of the team.

You were, maybe, three floors away? when Rebecca got a text from Ted, showed it to you, and before you knew it you were flying down to the guest locker room to find Jamie.

Of course his dick father would show up to make this day worse. Of course he would.

You’re ducking under security and pushing your way to the locker room in a flurry of motion, then immediately stop.

It’s silent, absolutely silent. 

And so still.

No one moves a muscle as your eyes land on Jamie, clinging to Roy like he’s a lifeline. Roy. Roy Kent, self-proclaimed Jamie-hater and staunch advocate against physical touch.

Jamie’s eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open at the sound of your tentative footsteps. He lets go of Roy for a moment, but only so that you can grab him in the next.

“Right,” says Roy, “Everybody get the fuck out!”

There are no complaints as the lads hurriedly grab their bags and exit the locker room.

Roy nods in your direction before leaving, and Beard mouths, “take your time.” You’re not sure where Ted’s gone off to.

Jamie feels like he’s going to collapse if he stands any longer, crushing you in the strongest grip you’ve ever felt.

“Oi,” you say gently, “let’s sit down, yeah? You don’t have to let go.”

So now you’re on the bench in Jamie’s lap, scratching his head in the way he likes, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Fucking stupid,” he says, voice muffled.

You ask, “What?” because surely that can’t be what he just said.

“I said it’s fucking stupid,” Jamie says, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m a fucking adult. Don’t need to be crying about stupid shit, especially not in front of the lads.”

“Oh, right,” you say before you can stop yourself, “because crying after your dick father tried to swing at you when you set boundaries for the first time ever is a completely unreasonable response.”

Jamie is still in your arms and you cringe. Curse your stupid, logical tongue.

Jamie finally says, “Didn’t think about it like that.” He sighs. “It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing, innit? Him showing up here like that. Didn’t need the lads seeing that.”

You kiss his forehead. 

“The only person it’s embarrassing for is him. Not you. You’re absolutely fine, Jaim. If anything, the boys are going to look at you better for finally understanding the shit you had to grow up with.”

Jamie nods, but you’re not sure if he believes you.

“Jamie,” you say firmly, “It’s not your fault. You handled it the best way it could have been handled. You did a great job.”

Those words seem to do something to Jamie, and his face takes on an expression you’ve never seen before

He asks, “You think so?” in such a forlorn manner than you have the sudden urge to find James Tartt and kick him in the balls with steel-toed shoes. You briefly wonder if Roy and Beard would like to join you.

“Yes,” you reply forcefully, “Yes Jamie. You did a wonderful job in a shitty situation and I’m very, very proud of you.”

Jamie doesn’t reply, just holds you tighter if that’s even possible. He takes a deep shuddering breath, but it’s the first real one he’s taken this entire time. 

“I told you I’m here no matter what,” you say. “Just like all the times you’ve been here for me. Now I’m here for you.”

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Something I'm curious to see with Heart Killers::

*** FIRST AND FOREMOST: I'm talking SHOW. I know what happens in the novel, this is about the SHOW, I dont care about the NOVEL. SHOW.

I don't believe the show will end with anyone in the main duos dying. This clearly from ep 1 isn't that kind of story.

Logic says a happy ending is Lilly (Khun Mae) probably dead, minimum in prison forever. The couples free to live within the lives they established (so, running Heart Burger, the tattoo parlor, and the auto shop).

But will Fadel and Bison pay for their crimes?

Korean dramas trend towards brutal realism, and within that framework they'd have some form of prison time, depending on what they're given for cooperating with police (which they logically would as moral redemption for viewers).

But Thai dramas don't necessarily trend towards that. Sometimes, but it isnt as hard a rule as you see in Kdramas or also often (but not always) Cdramas.

Two Worlds, for example, Tai has a pretty huge body count (as does pretty much every major character except for Khram, to be honest), and yet he gets his happy ending, zero issues.

So do FadelStyle and KantBison skip off into the sunset immediately, or do Fadel and Bison have to serve some kind of jail time (I'm talking in years, but like, less than 5 because I doubt the show would divide the duos for that long, even fictionally)?

And if they serve jail time, Style and Kant would obviously be able to visit.

Which is a roundabout way of asking how slutty do you think Style would dress and act during his however long visits with Fadel to give the man enough material to burn through over however long they're apart without getting himself a prison bitch?

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Heya Misfits! I've decided to write a quickie for ya. It just clicked in my mind, and I'm recovering from a cold, so what better way to get my creative juices flowing than with some fluffy cuteness.

Body Swap, Chaggie Style:

Charlie and Vaggie have a massive fight, Lucifer wanted the girls to stop fighting, so he shoots them with magic like a kid yelling at his friends and yelling, "Stop fighting!"

It was the start of a sad morning. A huge fight between Charlie and Vaggie caused the two to sleep in different rooms, making the others worried. Lucifer, being the sweet dad he is, decided to do some magic to ‘help’ the girls make up.

“Hmm?” Charlie awoke feeling heavier than normal. She dragged her figure out of bed only to go face first into the carpet. “Ow!” She groaned, rubbing her nose, but blinked, feeling a more angular nose than her usual black button nose. The princess started to panic and went to the bathroom mirror. “WHAT IN SATAN?!”

On the other end, Vaggie grumbled, sitting up rubbing her eyes, but when she opened them, she blinked. “What?” She could see out of both. However, that wasn't the only thing. She felt heat surging through her body, plus she felt something weird with her feet. “Aye meirda?!” She gasped once she moved the covers and saw red hooves.

Both girls stared at the mirrors, each seeing the other, Charlie saw Vaggie looking tired, as she saw the dark circles under her girl's lone eye. While Vaggie saw those beautiful ruby eyes puffy and swollen with the latter not bothering with switching to her red pajamas.

The fight played on in their minds, Vaggie had spiraled again with her self worth issues as yesterday had been particularly bad, and Charlie was too busy planning for the new hotel to recognize her girlfriend needed her.

Charlie felt the phantom pains act up and blinked wincing. “Fuck…” Her body trembled. “Oh Vaggie, why did I ignore you when you were in this much pain? Then again you always did know how to hide it..” She sighed lightly stroking the old scarring where Vaggie's eye used to be.

Vaggie in Charlie's body felt the stress and massive flux of emotions the princess had to deal with, plus the ever present demonic form that ached to come out, which red horns and a tail did peek through. “Charlie..” Vaggie sighed though blinked seeing the massive scribble pile on Charlie's desk. Carefully as to not burn any she peered over and stared. Surely enough it was so many apology notes with tear stains, drawn in many colors. Vaggie smiled a little, however her eyes widened seeing something under the notes, a small box labeled ‘For Vaggie, with love Charlie.’

“Better not, I can't seem to control what I set on fire..” Vaggie sighed with another fire coming onto the couch this time. “Shit!”

However when she was extinguishing said fire, she saw her own body come into view. “Oh uh hi..” Vaggie blinked, looking a little messy.

What happened next was Charlie tackling Vaggie and hugging her tight, and sure enough she looked like a cute crying mess. “I'm so sorry!” It was weird hearing her own voice as Vaggie blinked realizing how small she must look to Charlie.

It felt weird, yet Vaggie couldn't stop a demonic purr from escaping. “I'm sorry too hon..” She had to bend down to hold Charlie close.

The two stayed close to one another until another fire occurred on the carpet which made Charlie giggle. “Can't handle my pyrokinesis yet huh?” She asked as Vaggie grumbled. “Deep breaths, like this.” She smiled, showing Vaggie how to control the magic and the demon.

After a couple of deep breaths, Vaggie managed to stop setting things on fire for now. “And uh, how do you put these away?” She asked, pointing to the horns and tail.

“Hmm?” Charlie blinked though her wings popped out seeing the form. “Huh?!”

This got a flustered groan from Vaggie as she hid her face. Though this made Charlie give a devilish smirk. “Before you say anything babe, yes I do think your demon form is hot okay?”

“It is weird to see myself like this, but I will say, I do look pretty hot.” Charlie giggled again. “But since you're in my body Vaggie, can you see how I view you?” She asked though she struggled to fold in the wings.

Vaggie blinked but smiled softly. “I do hermosa..” She replied feeling the rampant emotions grow calmer. Though her expression grew sad, she was about to speak when Charlie placed a finger on her lips.

“Don't be sorry ok? If anything, this little experience has helped me understand you a little more even though I thought I knew everything.” Charlie grinned despite the trembling.

Vaggie looked at her hand and flexed her fingers. “I see what you mean sweetie, but here let me help you with my wings.” She smiled moving behind Charlie who blinked curiously. “Give them a stretch. Like imagine another set of arms on your back.”

Charlie nodded and did so, she smiled, able to move them a bit better, though couldn't help but flap. “These feel so weird but also very strong..” She grinned, turning around and wrapping both her and Vaggie in a cute wing cocoon.

Vaggie felt that black tail with a red heart in the middle of its tip slink over and wrap around Charlie. “Shit, your tail has a mind of its own!”

“Sorry about that, it's just you're like my rock Vaggie, you keep me grounded when I often get swept up in my own little world..” Charlie admitted though smirked as she lightly traced the tail. “I can see why you do this, it's fun seeing me get flustered huh?” She added being cheeky.

Vaggie grumbled feeling the shiver and blush. “I'll admit yes it is, but hon you haven't told me what you see from my view.” She answered changing the subject.

“Oh right, sorry.” Charlie giggled but blew at the bangs in her face. Getting the ok, Charlie closed her eyes in deep thought, she saw the darker thoughts of the self-hate, the guilt, and the need to be useful to Charlie. It hurt seeing this but Charlie opened the lone eye and looked at Vaggie with a loving gaze.

“You ain't alone in the self hate Vaggie.” She took hold of those hands. “But you're more than what you were back then, what I see now love, is someone who gets giddy over new weapons, loves tacos, can bark orders like a sexy drill sergeant, and most of all, I see someone who cares deeply for me and for everyone in the hotel, a kind yet stern person. Seriously meeting you was the best thing that's happened in my life.” She grinned though blinked, feeling teary eyed again.

Vaggie just stared but couldn't help it and grabbed Charlie holding her close in a big hug, nuzzling deep into her neck. “Oh Charlie…” Her voice came out cracking as she just sniffled.

However magic surged as the two switched back, making both let go and blink. “Huh..”

However the girls giggled and cuddled again enjoying the new found appreciation for one another. Vaggie felt those loving hands gently massage her back when the wings were tucked back in. “Hey, I know you're strong, but whenever these flare up, please don't hide it from me..” Charlie spoke softly, her natural tone being music to Vaggie's ears.

“If that's the case, please don't try and do everything alone hon, I'm the hotel manager for a reason you know.” The smaller woman replied, moving back to look up at those ruby eyes. “I support you with everything you do, but I can't help you if I don't know what's going on babe.”

“I know. Also sorry about your nose, I uh fell onto the carpet..” Charlie gave a sheepish grin though left a gentle peck on said nose.

Vaggie smiled softly. “Well I'm sorry about setting fire to our room, and… Seeing that little box.” She replied as Charlie gasped. “No, I didn't look inside.” The angel added, making Charlie sigh in relief.

“Good cause, it is a surprise..”

“Well can I see it now?”

Charlie beamed and nodded, poofing the box into her hands. “I took up a little hobby kinda like dad did, but I'm not very good, so..” She rambled, blushing.

Vaggie blinked but opened the box. To her surprise, it was the cutest little dark grey leather pouch with wings carved into the flap. The stitches looked a little crude, but it added a handmade charm to it. “You made this..?” She looked surprised, holding it.

“Yeah… It started out as a way to keep my hands busy since I kept digging my nails into my palm..” Charlie started to ramble as she giggled. “Next thing I know, I was having fun and making things. To which my dad kept snatching up for himself because he's weird like that.”

Vaggie planted a soft kiss on those lips to show her appreciation. “It's beautiful, hon, thank you..” The kiss made Charlie flutter, and she gave a love struck gaze.

The princess smirked and started to spoil Vaggie some more as things started to lead to the two getting hot and heavy. The hotel was fine. Sure, they can get in a fun love making session, right? After all, make-up sex is the best part of making up with your lover. Plus, Charlie wanted nothing more than to get her hands on her gorgeous girlfriend, and Vaggie couldn't help but indulge her since she craved that loving touch.

Thus the day went by in the new hotel, love was in the air once more as downstairs, Lucifer looked quite pleased with himself even if the spell was kinda a spur of the moment to get the girls to stop fighting. Though in his room, when he went to his closet, all the cute little leather objects Charlie made had come piling out, burying his royal ass alongside his massive rubber duck collection.

[jester-lover]

Hi I hope you’re doing well! ^^

I saw that your requests were open and o was wondering if you had any hc with L.j with a chubby/plus size fem reader who’s really insecure about their weight and how they look 24/7 nsfw or not, it’s totally okay! ^^

I’m dealing with severe body dysmorphia right now and I feel like I keep getting worse.

I love your writing so much and the way you write everyone, and I just wanted to say to keep the amazing work!💕

Feel free to delete it if it’s not something you’re comfy to write for! I’d completely understand

As always, stay safe and remember to hydrate <3

Pretty Lady

Cw/female reader, angst, fluff, insecurities, comfort, SFW, body image issues, food/eating/weight mention, this post is a bit longer than my other ones, because I personally wanted to write it

Laughing Jack x fem! Chubby! Reader

Hey nonnie, I know how difficult it feels to not belong in your own self, especially when it comes to weight. I know how repetitive the ‘your beautiful!’ comments can get, even if they are absolutely true. So I’ll just let you know that I wholeheartedly hope that you find happiness with yourself, that you find contentment with yourself. This is something I wish I heard in my times of trouble. You are completely free and valid to feel however you feel, but please know that there is always something beautiful in the world waiting for you.

Jack is such a tender hearted fool for you

His soul is wrapped around yours in an everlasting hug, and he’s forever grateful you chose to keep him around

What confuses him at first is your sudden reluctance to accept the little hard candies he makes specially for you

Jack tries to think of the reasons why you’d reject his treats, perhaps you have developed a new taste?

To his surprise, when he goes to your room to ask about it, he discovers a saddening scene

Clothes scatter your bedroom as you sit on your bed in your pajamas, crying into your hands

Your breathing begins catching, which takes him from his trance as he reaches to stroke your back and press you against his comforting form

“Dearie? What's the matter? Are you hurt?”

Jack will wait as long as you need to, letting you cry it out as he gently presses kisses to your temple

His hands wrap themselves around your soft midsection as he sweetly coaxes you to lift your head up to meet his eyes

As you explain your worries to him, Jack feels whatever leftover heart he has begin to break

Tears speckle his eyes as he looks at you, his hands that rest on your waist begin shaking a bit as he speaks up again, seemingly soaking up all your pain

"But beloved...there is so much more to love about you...you mean so much more to me than your gorgeous appearance."

Jack holds you in his lap, and whilst being mindful of his claws, traces the features of your face, whispering little complements as he kisses you gently

Throughout the next couple days, he'll distract and uplift you with various services and simple delights

He'll cuddle you in your sleep, preferring to spoon or hold you against his chest as he shares little stories and anecdotes

Jack has seen almost 200 years of beauty standards flying in and out of style, and he knows they matter for nothing

He'll assist you in small self care activities throughout the next couple days, like long bubble baths and painting your nails

these activities bring you closer together, and he just basks in your presence

"Being around you is an honor, my love, something I've been blessed with."

He practically worships you, treating you like the beautiful woman you are

He loves it when you show off your outfits for him, a little fashion show where you two parade around in ridiculous outfits, laughing at one another and toppling over in each other's arms

Jack loves you, all of you, including your body. He finds you deeply attractive and he wants you to see that too.

[eri-pl]

As I said, I am having a Finrod phase, in particular a "Finrod talking to [a character I never before realized he would interact with]" phase.

So, Sauron. No, not the song duel. But a couple of things, more or less noncanon. [Long post after cut, mentions of Sauron's various deeds but not detailed]

Sauron early (just after the War of Wrath, he goes with Eonwë) redemption arcs.

So how would the interactions between him and Finrod look?

First, there's the "I tortured you and got you killed" issue. I think if Sauron was actually remorseful, Finrod would forget that without a problem. (Again: in my reading of it, as opposed to many people's readings, Finrod is not traumatised. It was hard, but he did heal, mentally too.)

Second, there is the more difficult issue of "You fed my men, for whom I was responsible, to a werewolf". finrod would not let it slide unless all of the Ten forgave Sauron. But I think they eventually would, following Finrod's example. Not as fast as him, but not very slowly either.

Third there's the "You tortured my half-cousin at Morgoth's orders," which is even more of an issue, because said cusin is in the Halls of Mandos (at best) and probably won't get to forgiving anyone for a long time. So, for sake of exploring the situation, let's assume that Morgoth did the torturing himself, because, I don't know, he found it fun?

And the general "You tortured people and spirits" but this is not personal, so Finrod would not feel like it's his job to be angry about it, it's the role of the Valar to judge Sauron, and they did. (Have I forgotten something ugly that Sauron did in the FA?)

So assuming all that, and assuming that Sauron— ok, I should call him Mairon at this point— would be allowed to roam relatively freely and talk with people, I think he and Finrod would get along relatively well. Not very well, but well.

Because assuming all is forgiven, and looking just at the personalities — Finrod loves bling and gems and gold. Mairon in many fanons loves bling too, and even if he personally doesn't, he's a Maia of Aulë (even if he shifted to, say, Nienna, because it fit more with his mental state now, he still has a lot of skill). He would be great working with gems, we know that he canonically was great working on jewelry with elves even when he was evil, and I would assume being good makes him more attuned to beauty.

Also, I have a strong HC that Finrod would build something similar in style to Nargothrond (simply because it was beautiful) and I can very well see Mairon helping with that, and trying to convince Finrod to make everything more symmetrical (with little results).

And Mairon, being one of the few have-been-evil Maiar (and much calmer than Ossë) would, I think, understand a certain melancholy that Finrod has. the mourning of the things we lost by our bad choices. Like Nienna's mourning for Arda Marred, but more personal. More "we have a part in this".

And this would first take some convincing (probably by the Teleri) for Mairon to agree, but they would reenact the song duel. It would feel liberating for both of them, to be able to face it and smile. And they would learn that they really like singing together, like making arguements in the form of a song. (Often about the role of symmetry in art)

Mairon would not understand Finrod's deeper philosophical, how to call it, unrest? But he would respect that there's something he can't understand (It's probably one of the most important lessons he needed to learn to come back). That's why they would never be really close: their deepest passions are just too different.

2. Canon Sauron

They would not talk after Finrod's death, of course, but Finrod would have thoughts.

Imagine: Second Age, Numenor is built, Finrod visits it once in a while, then they get a little less friendly and he gets distracted by an architectural project, or child-raising, or whatever and when he emerges back into the world, Tar-Palantir is nearing the end of his reign and everyone is forbidden from visiting Numenor, because it's too dangerous for the Elves (morally, spiritually).

And then Pharazon claims the throne and the repressions return (those things are known in aman to those who are interested and trusted to be able to handle difficult knowledge — like Finrod — because the eagles and the palantir of Tol Eressea and wasy like that).

And those Men are claiming what?

Finrod begs to be allowed to go there, to talk to them, because he would tell them all the things— he is denied, and of course he knows better than to disobey the Valar. But it does take Námo for Finrod to stop asking.

And then Pharazôn captures Sauron, and this feels bad, this feels so bad, and it does become bad, and the palantir cannot see into the golden dome, but a lot of Men start appearing in the Halls of Mandos, and some of Námo's Maiar, unlike their lord, do gossip.

@edennill you asked in one post: do all the Númenoreans even land at the Halls? I would say: there won't be a clear, provable no (Námo does not say and none of the Maiar knows all what's going on in the Halls) but there would be such gossip. And a lot of speculations as to what this means. And the Maiar would bring the discussion out to all the Eldar who would be interested in listening to it. Definitely they would gossip about it to Finrod, after all this is the kind of thing he seemed interested in.

Imagine Finrod standing at a seashore cliff, looking East and screaming in a powerless rage until his voice runs out.

And then the fleet sails and again it takes a very clear and direct order for Finrod to not wait for them at the shore. And after the sea settles, after the Undying Lands are sundered, he stands at the shore again, wailing, mourning, screaming wordlessly, because he would not dare say the questions that are circling in his mind.

(And just after he calms down enough to return home, he gets visited and yelled at by Curufin's wife or whatever relative that stayed in Aman for not having been there with the rest of the family, and doesn't he even care aboyt Tyelpe? And he asks "What happenned with Tyelpe?" and gets slapped in the face.)

(Yes, Finrod, like all the Noldor, has some hyperfocus tendencies. And maybe not very much contact with the Feanorian side of family at this point.)

And then he learns that, by the way, Glorfindel was sent to Middle Earth to deal with Sauron. Because, you know, there may be a Balrog involved eventually. And no, he cannot go too. First, there may be a need for stealth and second, he clearly is not impartial about the whole Sauron situation.

It takes some processing and some more questions for Finrod to realize that yes, Sauron is very likely still alive.

And then he probably goes to yell on the cliffs again.

3. Late redemption arc Sauron.

…basically the same as above, but with more bluescreening on Finrod's part.

I mean, just imagine it. Finrod is so furious, and justly so, because. Just: because. (And also, tyelpe.)

But also: Sauron has been judged already and it's really not Finrod's job.

But also: he is so angry.

And it would be crazy for Mairon too — I mean, in addition to the normal crazy— because Finrod would be one of the evry few people who Gets Is. Who just get a) how bad it was b) which parts were the worst c) all the implications of him eing still alive d) how insane that is. But also, Finrod would not talk to him, or see him, because he just can't stand it mentally.

And then one day Finrod would, when wandering the shores, find a monument in the memory of Númenoreans —all of them— and there's something about it that resonates with him. there is some truth in it (even if it's too symmetrical). He would plant flowers there, and sing for long. Sometimes he would feel watched, but nobody would appear.

When he would return, there would be more flowers, and the best parts of his song carved into the stone, more intricately than he ever could. He would sing more and it would reeat for a long time: a dialogue of mournings.

[howlingdemon13]

You could use a buddy~!

Guys, you have no idea how happy I am that this is complete! You know I'm gonna be supper obnoxious now that I can turn into a demonic ghost with mommy issues. 🤪 Anyway, some notes and thoughts on this cosplay that no one asked for and no one wants~!

First and foremost, this cosplay is sort of a clonesona. I feel like (if given the chance), Beetlejuice would play around with how his clones look. Obviously on stage it’s impossible to find actors who look identical to the lead, but I like that the fandom has embraced BJ being unable/unwilling to create clones that are a 100% physical match. If that’s the case, I’m sure he throws in a more fem-presenting clone once in a while.

This doubles as a feminine-presenting form for Beetlejuice himself, too (Toonjuice has no issue changing his gender presentation at will in a bunch of scenarios, and I like to think that Musicaljuice would be the same/similar). I guess a version of Beetlejuice that’s female would be fun, but I prefer the idea of BJ shapeshifting to look and present the way he wants to (or to have fun with unsuspecting victims).

Even from the early development of this cosplay all the way back in October, choosing between a dress and a suit was like pulling teeth. I love the suit an unhealthy amount, but I wanted something distinct from other interpretations. That, and I was hesitant to lean into the hyper-sexualized looks I’ve seen from officially licensed offshoots of the character. Beetlejuice, while a self-proclaimed sexual being, doesn’t read as the kind of entity to go from generally masc-presenting all the way to hyper-sexual fem-presenting. Also, where the hell is the grime on all these fem designs???? Why does she look clean? Cowards!

I think BJ would settle on a fem-presenting form in a suit, but I also think he’s just as comfortable in a dress regardless of the pronouns/physical characteristics he’s using at any given moment. He likes his dresses and we love him for it.

Anyway-

I wanted a dress that felt “old” but not dated,so I settled on a shirt dress. They came about in the 1920’s, but didn’t become super popular until the 50’s. The cut of Beetlejuice’s suit is somewhere between modern and a style that would have been popular in the 50’s, too.

I also think shirt dresses are pretty “neutral” in that they aren’t form-fitting and they read more like a shirt from the waist up. I didn’t want anything dainty, but I wanted some movement to the fabric, and a dress does that a bit better than a suit imo. It’s why I love Beetlejuice’s first 15 minutes on stage in the trench coat. I know it’s a callback to when we first see him in the movie, but it adds a ton of secondary movement and looks cartoony when coupled with very exaggerated movements typical of a stage show. It’s why I love watching Collette especially bounce around on stage because istg he knows this (or that him growing up with the cartoon make him really lean into over the top body language and the trench coat just adds to it).

Like, look at that! Are you seeing what I’m saying? If I could animate, that would be a dream shot!

Oops, can’t go 15 minutes without thinking of the silly.

All that is to say that movement and form in an outfit, especially one for a character as chaotic as Beetlejuice, was super important to me. It’s also why I settled on long, curly hair, kept the tie, and added a bow. All of that breaks up patterns, adds movement, and is something I can put moss on. Anyway, this cosplay has a lot of little nods to the musical, cartoon, and film (but is mostly based off of the musical).

Cartoon: bugs!! Toonjuice is sometimes seen with small beetles chilling on his suit (which he inevitably snacks on). I love the idea of Beej being covered in bugs, so I felt compelled to include them on the dress and hat. It's a subtle reference, but one that I really wanted. They’re made out of scrap polymer clay and painted. Here are a few:

Film: The guide hat! It's iconic. I know that the hat made it into very early versions of the musical and promotional materials, but how it got thrown by the wayside is beyond me.

Musical: the grime and disrepair! I was heavily inspired by an early suit that is absolutely covered in moss!

I also added a lot of grime to the shoulders and hem as a callback to later versions of the suit and especially the tour version of it. I also added some x stitches since I really like the way they look on the current tour suit!

Oh, and the banjolele! Can't forget my favorite prop!

Miscellaneous: I love giving supernatural characters pointy ears and fangs, so you best believe I’m going to do the same for BJ. Slightly related, but I love the tour makeup so much. The makeup artists really lean into Beetlejuice being corpsey and I’m here for it (I essentially combine the tour and film makeup to get the look I’m after).

Oh! And snap bracelets! I remember hardcore stimming with these as a kid to the point of destroying them (then it was goodbye snap bracelets), and you cannot tell me Beetlejuice, neurodivergent-coded demon ghost, wouldn’t be the same way. Full disclosure, I had to wrap them around metal bands because these snaps are rubber and the texture is a nightmare for me, but I was determined to include them. They’re also a substitute for Beetlejuice’s watches in the film.

God/Satan, that was a lot of rambling. If you survived all that, thanks for reading!

[fl3shm4id3n]

heyyy i would like to make a request for spider-punk/hobie brown with a fem!spiderwoman!reader. the idea i have in mind is just a reader that shares the same morals/opinions that hobie has like hating the government and going against the norm. i also like the idea of the reader also having piercings and like an alt aesthetic bc i think that would fit well with hobie in a relationship. she can be more sarcastic/witty and make a lot of jokes but be really cool. it can be either headcannons or a fic but you absolutely don’t have to do it if you don’t like the idea or it’s too much to do!! thank you <3

Bₑᵢₙg ₐₙ ₐₗₜ ₛₚᵢdₑᵣ Wₒₘₐₙ ₐₙd ᵢₙ ₐ ᵣₑₗₐₜᵢₒₙₛₕᵢₚ wᵢₜₕ ₕₒbᵢₑ Bᵣₒwₙ/ₛₚᵢdₑᵣ ₚᵤₙₖ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴜɴᴋ/ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴀʟᴛ ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Hobie and reader are being little shits, that's it.

A/N: I actually like this idea, this is feeding my Hobie x goth/ALT reader hunger. I didn't have much in thought, but I manage to squeeze something out. I hope this was to your liking ♡

Masterlist

The first time you both met, everyone knew right away that you were both going to end up together. It was as if, you and him were made for one another.

You shared the same thoughts and interests, also the same style. Except, Hobie didn't do a lot like you did. You really liked to wear a lot of things flashy yet dark things.

Hobie did have piercings, but he did not have as much as you did. You also liked to wear chokers with chains, leather, and dark clothes. Your boyfriend would also steal some of your clothes, always saying that what was yours was his, and that you both shared the same style.

If you want another piercing, he'll do it for you, he did his own piercings and he wouldn't mind doing whatever piercing you wanted.

Got Tattoos? Hobie is interested in them, from the design and why you got them. He also sees them as a form of art and another part of your ALT style. Despite them being of cute or scary whatever, he loves them.

He'll offer to draw you something to get tattooed, he'll work on it for days if not weeks. He isn't just going to give you something half assed, he'll make you something that you will love having tattooed on you.

When you want to upgrade your spider suit, Hobie will help you, he'll suggest what to put and add to your suit, he knows that you like that flashy stuff, so why not put them on your suit. He likes how you express yourself through your suit.

What he really likes about you is your sarcasm, specially when you use it on Miguel and Jessica, they're cool, but sometimes they'd get on your nerves to the point that you just use your sarcasm on them. It'd make Hobie just laugh by your attitude.

Also the fact that you were intelligent, but majority of the time you use your intelligence to mess with other, specially Miguel since you know that he hates it when you do that.

You and Hobie really like to mess with others, you both can sometimes be helpful but choose not to. In general you're just like that, even to each other as a joke.

You don't have to tell people you're together, you both make it somewhat obvious that you are. You didn't over do it, you just did enough to show that you and Hobie were an obvious thing.

When you first met Miles, he noticed how you and Hobie were basically doing your own thing together, as a couple and he got curious and decided to ask if you were dating.

You responded with 'No, we just like to kiss and make out on a daily basis, Of course we're dating!' he got the memo.

The important thing to both of you is communication, if you both didn't talk, then that was a problem, speaking your minds is the thing that made you both get together in the first place.

In general, you and Hobie are just that, you and Hobie. You weren't the perfect couple, you did have your differences and issues, but you always fixed them together.