#white boy fanfiction

[white-boy-bracket]

Showie woke up on the right side of her bed. This was odd. Why was she-

Something warm.

“Aaah!” She let out a shriek and kicked out desperately, her foot connecting with something- she swung her arm in its general direction-

“FUCK-, Showie, OW.”

Oh. 

Oops.

Heart racing, she quietly scooted off the right side of the bed and slid down into the space between the bed and the wall. 

A pause. Silence, broken only by Xigbar’s groaning. Oops.

Chest heaving, she asked, “A- are you okay?”

"Can't ever get a decent sleep in this place," he muttered. He sat up, a hand covering the steady stream of blood coming from his nose.

Showie peered over the edge of the bed, watching him limp towards the bathroom, blood dotting her marble flooring. She would have to clean th- she would have to get that cleaned. By a. Not by a kin. 

She lowered herself so she was laying on the cool marble floor, the same temperature as her skin. Or the temperature of her skin normally. Now, the left side of her body was warm. :(.

What had happened? Why was- what?

She should be relieved, she supposed. When she’d awoken, she’d thought it was-

She hummed to herself, hitting her forehead with her palms (clink, clink, clink). No. No, she wouldn’t think of that. She didn’t have to think of that. There was no reason to think of that. It was Xigbar, she didn’t need to worry. She was safe. 

She didn’t feel safe. She felt small. Her heart still raced. She was thinking about it. She was thinking about it.

--

Holding a wad of toilet paper up to his nose, Xigbar limped back into the main room just in time to hear Showie (hiding behind the bed) sob.

“... I'm not going to make you talk. Clearly whatever that just was was some kind of response." He paused, as if debating his next words. "... But if you want to talk, I can listen."

He heard a little gasp between sobs. 

Maybe 30 seconds later, he saw Showie peek out from behind the bed. Pale as a ghost. Paler than a ghost. Hair the same color as her skin, the same color as her eyes- huh. 

She said nothing. Just stared at him for a while. Felt reminiscent of when he’d been teleported into this tournament to begin with. 

When she finally did speak, her voice sounded small.

“I thought you were [Name redacted]. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“[Name Redacted]?”

“M- m- my [relation omitted]. Sorry.”

“Ah. In that case, I think I got off easy with just a bloody nose and a bruise," he quipped. 

She didn’t laugh. He thought she closed her eyes, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. 

“Want me to kill him for you?”

Silence.

“He still alive?”

Silence.

“I. I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe. I’m not sure.” She pressed her face into the bed. The white comforter was the same color as her, Well. Her. Her whole she. Xigbar briefly considered what a nightmare it would be to lose her in a snowstorm. Smack right into her. Get another bloody nose.

“How long ago did you last- Like, when’d you…?”

She pressed her face further into the bed. Her reply came out so muffled he couldn’t hear it. 

“Huh?”

She lifted her head, “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I ran.”

Silence. 

“Oh. Well.”

Silence. 

“I should.. Sleep somewhere els-”

“No!” Her head jerked up, her eyes wild, “I- I me- I mean-”

He held his hands up in surrender, “Alright.”

“A- alright.”

“Okay.”

“Oka- sorry.”

A bit of blood dripped from the toilet paper onto the floor.

A pause. 

“I’m gonna get new- I’ll be back.”

When he got back, she was sat on the very edge of the bed, blankets pulled around her in a manner that was probably supposed to be like her cloak. Looked a bit silly, though. Xigbar didn’t mention it.

“I was thinking,” She said. 

He waited. 

And waited. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking. Um.”

He waited. 

“Yeah?” 

“We. um. We should.”

“Yeah?”

“Check the spike pit.” He got the feeling this was not what she was originally going to say. He didn’t mention it. 

“Check the spike pit?”

“For bodies.”

“They’re in there. I saw them.” And he did. It was a bloody mess. 

“We should check for bodies that shouldn’t be down there.”

A pause. 

“To revive.”

“Oh, right,” He said, “Forgot that was something you did.”

Silence. 

Silence. 

He crossed to the wreckage of the bed the kins had brought in for him and tossed Showie her cloak. She was looking the other way, though, so instead of catching it, it covered her like a cartoon ghost.

--

He looked at the (pink) tablet she’d handed to him as they descended the stairs into the (now spikeless) spike pit. She’d made him open yahoo dot com, like someone who’d learned of the internet five minutes ago. 

“What are you having me look up?”

“Go to tumblr.”

“What? Why?”

“Go to tumblr.”

“Okay, okay.” He went to tumblr.

‘@showierunner’ was logged in. 

“Showierunner?”

“I had that url before I knew you.”

“Okay, doll,” He said, not believing it.

“Hm.”

They reached the bottom of the spike pit. Bodies lay strewn across the floor. 

They approached the body of what probably used to be an old man. A massive hole had been stabbed through the middle of his chest, and he was covered in blood.

Showie knelt down and waved her hand over the body.

Gabriel Agreste. Deceased

The words appeared over the body in pink cursive font.

“Type Gabriel Agreste into the search bar.”

“On tumblr?”

“On tumblr.”

“As a search engine?” Xigbar’s finger hovered over the search bar, “You know there are. Actual search engines?”

“I like to see what people post about them. It gives me more information about what kind of person they are than their wiki pages do.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, typing it in.

“What do you see?” She said, poking at the wound with some kind of stick. He wasn’t sure where she’d gotten it, though.

“Uh, looks like he got second place in a shitty dad tournament,” he said after scrolling past many, many gifsets.

“Hm,” She said, standing up. She nodded to him, and they walked over to the next body.

She knelt beside a body wearing jeans and a button down.

Jon Arbuckle. Deceased.

Before he had the chance to type it in, she was walking over to the next body.

“What, no chance?”

“Garfield annoys me! Too many people per round yell because he’s an orange cat!” She waved her hand in annoyance like she was trying to shoo the idea away.

“Don’t you like Firestar for that same reason?”

“Firestar is different. He remade himself and became a great leader of his clan. I like that.”

The next body. An old man in a fancy, old timey looking suit.

She didn’t even stop. “That’s George Washington,” She explained, “I only put him in this poll to die-”

“Damn, Showie-”

“I’ve taken some interest in Stanley- before yesterday, I mean- and I noticed the two of them- not him and george washington, him and Cesare- they’ve been spending time together.”

“You know the white boys by name?” Why was he looking them up?

“The ones that got past round one,” She said dismissively.

The next body. A blonde teenage boy in a white overshirt and jeans.

Adrien Agreste. Deceased.

“Agreste. Gabriel’s son?”

He typed it in. Gifsets. Art. “What are you looking for? Text posts?”

“Anything with the vibe.”

“How’s this for the vibe?” He showed her a piece of fanart that had the boy blindfolded and crying. 

“Hm.” She took the tablet. Her hands practically glowed in the darkness of the pit (she hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup). She swiped her finger across the screen, then frowned, and tapped a few times. 

She made a noise of disapproval and grabbed Xigbar’s hand? And started using his finger to scroll?

“Showie, what-”

“It doesn’t recognise my finger.” She said by way of explanation.  

“How do you use it normally?” His wrist was twisted in an uncomfortable way.

“Those touchscreen bandaids.”

Huh. okay. 

After a moment she handed the tablet (and his hand) back to him, “We’re reviving this one,” She said, lifting Adrien up and draping him over her shoulder effortlessly. 

She walked right past a few more bodies without stopping. And a cookie? A few bodies and a cookie. 

She paused over one corpse, “Ugh! Paul Matthews. He went against Garfield in the round where you smuggled yourself in. I actually tableflipped that one. Too many people yelling! But here he is! Back because of the food form.” She sounded disgusted. 

Something was off about the body. Xigbar nudged it with his foot, and-

Not a corpse. Paul Matthews jumped and whimpered, then quickly went still again like they somehow hadn’t seen that.

“Oh.” She said, sounding very annoyed. 

Xigbar summoned one of his arrow guns and aimed it-

“Not yet, Xigbar,” She raised a hand.

“You. Paul.”

He played dead.

“How did you survive?”

He played dead. In one hand was clutched a lunchbag. Did he bring a snack to the death match?

She kicked him. This time he stiffened but otherwise didn’t react. 

She was getting frustrated, Xigbar could feel it. She kicked him again. 

“Stop playing dead! I know you’re alive!”

“Hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right?” Xigbar said, waving his arrowgun a bit.

She seemed to consider it. Then she appeared to get an idea. 

“Guess we were wrong, Xigbar!”

“What?”

“He’s dead! Must have been a final firing of the nerves!” She said, clearly acting (poorly) (he got the sense this was on purpose).

“You sure?” He said, playing along.

“Yeah! I’m sure! You know when you catch a fish, and you chop its head off and then cut the entire body into little pieces, but the head keeps moving and the mouth keeps trying to breathe? Sometimes for hours?”

“Sure,” he said. If she said so. 

“Must have just been that. Let’s go ahead and head back to the apartment, and press the button that drops all of the bodies into the incinerator!”

“Incinerator?!” Paul Matthews gasped.

They both turned to look at him.

“Do I kill him?” Xigbar wanted to. He wanted to kill him. Blow off some steam. 

“I almost respect the audacity to lay there and pretend to be dead after squealing like a kitten,” She said.

“Audacity or Idiocy.” 

“Hm. Perhaps the second one.” She walked closer to Matthews, being sure to keep her head low, “What do you think, Paul? Are you stupid or just impertinent?”

He stammered, and Xigbar laughed, “Guess it's the first one.”

“Hush,” Showie said, amused, “Let him speak. And Paul, there is a correct answer.” She leaned down to get a better look at him.

It was then that his hand, which had been creeping into his lunch bag, suddenly jerked upward.

The gun inside the bag fired directly at Showie’s head.

[amymone]

Galatea rolled a ball of clay between her palms, warming it. It felt good in her hands. After a moment she opened her hands like a book, staring at the perfectly round ball of clay inside. She pushed a thumb into the center, leaving a print, then crushed the whole thing in one hand and began to work it again. 

She liked working with clay, she thought. She came from a family of sculptors, after all. And she was the family sculpture. 

The studio was empty, the house quiet. It was eerie, she thought. Normally her daughter could be heard making some kind of chaos- picking a fight with a bird, challenging someone to a footrace, running full speed into walls just because- but her daughter wasn't here anymore. And she wouldn't be here. Not ever again. 

A tear slipped down Galatea's face and off her chin, landing on the pillar of ivory she was sitting on. She wasn't sure why she'd let her go. There wasn't anything wrong with home, but she'd felt some… tug. And an uneasy feeling. And she'd let her go. 

She squeezed the ball of clay and stared at it and it forced its way through the spaces in between her fingers. 

But no matter. It was approaching dinner, and her husband was sure to be hungry.

She went into the kitchen, ladling some soup into a bowl she'd made and walking into his bedroom with it. She didn't want him to need to leave his room, not after what a day it had been. 

She handed him the bowl, smiling. "Here, honey!"

Pygmalion didn't smile back. Her heart sank slightly, she hated it when he was unhappy with her.

He said, "Galatea."

"Honey?"

"Where is [CHILD NAME EXCLUDED]?"

'No. ' said a voice somewhere inside. How odd. 

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Stranger and stranger.

"Galatea. Answer me."

She opened her mouth, ready to respond, but the words caught in her throat. 

' No!'  

Why couldn't she-

"Galatea!"

"I'm trying! " She exclaimed desperately- then stumbled back as the bowl of hot soup was thrown at (and shattered on) her face. The wounds stung with the salt of the broth.

"You killed her!" Pygmalion loomed large over his wife, staring up at him from the ground where she'd fallen.

She tried to protest and found, again, she couldn't . Tears came to her eyes, and she shrunk back, raising a hand to shield herself-

" Get out! " He shouted, and she scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping and falling and she hurried out the door. The sun was setting fast on the horizon, a sight she couldn't stop to marvel at as she fled. Get out , he'd said. Get out.

Galatea got out, disappearing into the treeline.

-

It seemed like hours before she finally made it to the other side of the woods.

In the distance loomed a large and imposing… something . And on the other side, a sort of cabin. Blood running down her face, feet aching, scalp still tender from the scalding liquid, she thought whoever was in the cabin may be able to help.

She trudged through the slightly overgrown field, climbing over a few tree trunks that seemed to have been thrown, leaving deep gouges in the ground. 

She knocked on the door of the cabin, and a sea-green eye appeared in the slot in the door. 

It opened. Oh, he was a son of Lord Poseidon for sure- the dark hair, the green eyes- he even smelled faintly of sea salt. She dipped her head.

"Another one?" came a voice from within the cabin.

"Shit, she's all beat up-"

Galatea felt her cheeks heat up in shame as she was ushered into the cabin. 

"What happened?"

' No!'

"I-" she managed, "I had to run, I was told to get out-"

"It's okay-" said the son of the sea god, "You're safe here. We'll protect you from them."

She nodded, feeling her shoulders relax, " Thank you." It was so good to know that she was safe here. Safe from whoever they were. 

A blonde boy she thought may be a child of Persephone gently pulled a shard of pottery out of her cheek. He laid his hand on her face and glowed- literally glowed . 

Healed. 

" Thank you," She said.

"Don't mention it." Said the blonde boy.

"What's your name?" asked the son of the sea, "If you remember it."

"Galatea. Where- where am I?"

"Galatea." His brow furrowed. "I'm Percy. Welcome to the Cabin."

[karinamariee]

sweet

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

warnings: smut w no plot, mdni!!

a/n: idk what i’m doing w my life😭i also rushed that’s why it’s so short. I HATE THIS!!

———————————————————

��fuck yeah,” whispered drew quietly as he pounded into you not so quietly. you had nothing to say, nothing was coming out of your mouth, you couldn’t even moan. everything was just so overwhelming. the way his dick would squelch inside you made your toes curl.

“i love you, i love you,” you moaned loudly. drew lowered himself on his elbows, both of them trapping you in between, but the way your legs laid on his shoulders, him hitting the right spot, you could care less. your arms moved to his back, nails digging into the white skin.

“you feel so good,” said drew. “so fuckin’ good.”

he moved his hand down to your clit, circling the bud slowly, making your arch back. your eyes crossed and moved to the back of your head. you could feel your orgasm getting close.

“you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” groaned drew. you heard his breath on your neck. he went quicker, trying not to cum too quickly. he would rather wait for you.

“right there,” you moaned, “just like that.”

he picked up the pace. you could hear him groaning in your neck as you came silently. it was too good to make you say anything. your toes curled and uncurled as it was overstimulating you.

“just like that,” drew said. “this pussy is so fuckin’ sweet.”

[greengoblinswifey]

White Boy of the Month- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings: smut, jealous!reader, unprotected sex, oral(f receiving) creampie, praise kink, established relationship, this monstrosity i conjured up.

author’s note: i’ve only ever written smut for characters and not actors so i feel a bit weird about this, hope you guys like it regardless. ps: this is all just fantasy <3

Nicholas was everywhere these days. TikTok’s new “white boy of the month”, and it seemed like everyone had taken notice. You were lying in bed, scrolling through TikTok, watching yet another edit of him. The one that kept popping up on your feed was to "Shake Dat Ah" by Bossman Dlow, and it had blown up. The video cut perfectly between slow-motion shots of him smiling and laughing, looking so effortlessly handsome with that amazing body. You couldn’t help but watch it on repeat.

You were so engrossed in it that you didn’t notice Nicholas walking into the room until he stood by the bed. Your eyes widened as you quickly tried to scroll away from the TikTok, but it was too late. He caught you.

“You’re watching the edits again, aren’t you?” Nicholas chuckled, his lips curving into that playful smirk you knew too well. “Enjoying them?”

Your face warmed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “I enjoy having you in front of me way more,” you teased, giving him a wink.

He grinned and joined you on the bed, lying beside you. He nestled his head on your chest, his face resting against your tits as he made himself comfortable. You resumed watching the TikTok, this time paying attention to the comments. As expected, they were filled with thirsty women.

“He’s so hot, I can’t take it!” “Nicholas Chavez is my husband now, no one can tell me otherwise.” “I’m gonna need him to come over here and shake dat ah for me.” “Fuck me daddy.” “I need him so fucking bad.”

You rolled your eyes at the flood of heart-eye emojis and wild comments, but couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. Nicholas, sensing your shift in mood, peeked up at you.

“Jealous?” he asked softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hesitated, scrolling through another comment about how someone wanted to marry him and have him deflower them. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted, though you couldn’t help but smile down at him. “It’s not like I can’t see why they’re obsessed.”

He reached up, placing a kiss on your collarbone, his eyes never leaving yours. “They can have the edits, but I’m here with you.”

You exhaled softly, letting go of the jealousy. You knew you had him, right there in your arms, and no TikTok comment could take that away. “I guess I can deal with it,” you teased, your fingers brushing through his hair. “As long as you remember who you really belong to.”

He laughed, his breath warm against your skin. “Always.”

The energy between you and Nicholas shifted in an instant. His playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without a word, he reached up, pulling your tank top down just enough to free your tits. Your breath hitched as his warm hands cupped them, and you tossed your phone to the side, the TikTok edits now a distant thought, though you’d definitely be watching and gushing later. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping softly as he kissed down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, his lips pressed firmly against your clothed pussy, making you gasp. Without hesitation, he grabbed the fabric and, with a sharp rip, tore them off with his strong, muscular arms. The rawness of the action sent a jolt of arousal through you, and you felt your body respond immediately.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. Your eyes met his, and he smirked. “No woman in any comment section will ever feel my tongue on them like you do right now.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you, ravishing your clit with fierce hunger. His tongue moved in circles, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your core. His finger slid inside you, curling in just the right way, making you whimper. When he added a second finger, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your back arched off the bed as you came hard, cumming all over his mouth and fingers, your moans filling the room.

Nicholas didn’t stop, his lips and fingers continuing to work you through the orgasm, his eyes locked on your face. “So pretty,” he murmured between licks, “Your pussy looks so pretty. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Your chest heaved as you came down from your high, your mind hazy with pleasure. His words sent another flush of heat through you as he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening. “I’m all yours,” he whispered, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly. “And you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours Nicholas,” you whimpered and he smiled.

He pulled off his boxers, his big, thick cock springing free, standing hard and ready. The tip was a bright, flushed pink, curving just slightly, making your breath hitch in anticipation. He settled between your legs, teasing your clit with the head of his cock, rubbing it slowly, sending shivers through your entire body. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him inside you.

He positioned himself at your entrance, and slowly, so slowly, began to push in. His cock stretched you inch by inch, your tight pussy gripping him as he filled you. He let out a deep hiss as he sank deeper, his body trembling from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.

You clung to his arms, gasping, “You’re so big,” the words barely a whisper as he continued pushing inside, his thick length stretching you to the limit. When he was fully inside, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily before he started to move, pounding into you in deep, steady strokes.

“You’re my beautiful girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he thrusted into you. “And I’m yours. Forever. No one’s ever gonna take me away from you.”

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, your clit rubbing against his hard, muscular body as he drove into you. His pace quickened, and you looked up at him, heart racing at the sight. His disheveled hair fell into his half-lidded, pretty eyes, his lips flushed and parted, groaning your name over and over like a chant, like he was worshiping you.

Your own lips parted in a moan, his name spilling from you like a prayer, like he was your priest, the only one you could ever confess to. The pleasure built inside you with every thrust, his body, his touch, his words claiming you completely. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was worshiping you, and in that moment, you were lost to him, praying with every moan, every cry of his name.

Nicholas could feel how close you were, your breath quickened, your moans growing louder, and your pussy gripped him like a vice. His eyes darkened with desire as he watched the way your body reacted to his every thrust. His cock throbbed inside you, and with a low, husky voice, he rasped, “You’re so beautiful, baby. You’ll look even more beautiful cumming on my cock while I’m fucking you like this.”

His words ignited the fire inside you, pushing you past the brink. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed through you, and your body trembled uncontrollably. Your pussy tightened around him, squeezing him as you came hard, your walls pulsating and clenching around his thick cock. He groaned deeply, feeling every spasm as you drenched him, but he didn’t let up. He kept thrusting, his pace relentless, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, letting you ride it out fully.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growled through clenched teeth, still lost in the tightness of your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, feeling your warmth and the way your pussy gripped him like you never wanted to let go. He thrusted in harder, determined to give you more, to show you just how much you drove him crazy.

His own release was building fast, but he held back just long enough to murmur against your ear, “It’s my turn now. And you know what I want.”

Without hesitation, you arched your back for him, pressing your ass high in the air, presenting yourself to him as he moved behind you. Nicholas positioned himself between your legs, guiding his cock back inside you with one swift, hard thrust. You moaned at the feeling of being filled up again, his cock stretching you as he pounded into you from behind.

His grip tightened around your waist, and each thrust was more powerful than the last. His hands occasionally left your hips to deliver firm slaps to your ass, the sound of his hands meeting your skin echoing in the room. “God, look at you,” he growled, his voice low and thick with lust. “So fucking sexy. And this ass, so fucking perfect.”

You glanced back at him, your half-lidded eyes catching sight of his toned, muscular body—his abs flexing with every thrust, his biceps bulging as he held you in place. His messy hair framed his chiseled face, and the raw look of pleasure etched into his expression was enough to make you moan his name all over again, lost in the sight of him.

The pleasure built quickly inside you once more, your pussy gripping his cock tighter, squeezing him as another wave of pleasure started to overtake you. Nicholas could feel it too, his cock throbbing inside of you as he growled low in his throat. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m close, baby.”

You were desperate, your voice needy as you begged, “Please, Nick, cum inside me. I want it. Fill me up.”

He hesitated, smirking as he slowed his pace for just a moment. “I can’t hear you,” he teased. “You’re gonna have to say that louder, baby.”

Your desperation heightened, and you practically screamed it this time. “Cum inside me, Nick! I need it! Please!”

With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into you one final time, holding you close as his cock pulsed inside you, releasing thick, hot spurts of cum deep within you. He moaned your name as he came, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pressing you against him as he filled you up. He didn’t pull out right away, instead, he relished the feeling of being inside you, his cock still throbbing, every muscle in his body tense as he savored the moment.

Before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, pulling you on top of him. His cock was still buried deep inside your pussy as he shifted the position, thrusting up into you gently now, making sure you squeezed every last drop of his cum out. You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy gripping him as he guided your hips slowly.

Nicholas gazed up at you, his hands tender now, caressing your waist as he whispered between kisses. “My baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.”

You leaned down to kiss him softly, your heart swelling at his words. “I love you too,” you murmured, your voice tired but full of affection.

Nicholas kissed your forehead and whispered against your skin, “I’m so happy my career’s taking off, and no matter what, you’ll always be by my side, and I’ll take care of you every step of the way. You deserve the world.”

You smiled softly, resting your head on his chest as he moved to get up. “Wait,” you said, stopping him. “Don’t go. I just want to stay like this, with you inside me, and I wanna listen your heartbeat.”

He grinned, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close again. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” He kissed the top of your head and settled back, letting you rest against his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear as you both drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied slumber, completely wrapped in each other.

[oxymoronicdumbass]

second stage of fandom is wanting to make a reference to your show, but not being able to because the reference is to a fanfic, and it is almost guaranteed that even among fellow members of the fandom, nobody will understand what you are talking about

[ervotica]

this smut is all well and good but i fear i want patrick in domestic ways.

him waking you slowly from a nap with a warm palm that slides the length of your neck, a thumb that drags slow lines below your ear. kisses to the corner of your mouth. lazy days where you do nothing but watch movies and fuck each other to sleep - and then fuck each other awake again. him teaching you to play tennis and trying - and failing - to keep that fucking smirk off of his face as you pout and whine and stomp your feet, insistent that you suck. cheering you up with his chin digging into the soft dip of your neck as he mouths at the exposed skin. soft smiles. yelling as you bite his knuckles playfully. relentless teasing. big fights and the tearful reconciliations that follow.

and, yeah, really fucking good sex.

[raekensluver]

ᴍʏ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ — 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

ʟᴜɪɢɪ ᴍᴀɴɢɪᴏɴᴇ

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Characters Bios for The Boys in the Boat

[ghoastixx]

Bringing your slashers/horror characters to Thanksgiving

Includes: Michael Myers (OG), Beetlejuice, Billy Loomis & Stu Macher, J.D., Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly, Poly Lost Boys, Carrie White

Includes: gn reader, swearing, pet names,

———————————————————————————-

Michael Myers

In reality, this man is not going to your family’s Thanksgiving. He’s not even taking his mask off.

But let’s pretend!!

Let’s say you DID get Michael to take off his mask and venture out of your home for Thanksgiving.

You told your family that he was mute, some understood that better than others.

Grandma? Loves him for some reason.

“Hi baby, is this Michael? Oh hi sweetheart, how are you doing, come let’s get you guys seated.”

She’s so sweet he’s so unused to it other than from you.

He would freak out a lot of people by sitting there and just staring at everyone.

He’s so big and tall compared to everyone, grandpa would ask if he could help him move a dresser or some shit.

“Come on Michael, we’re gonna be late!” You called, waiting patiently by the door.

When you both arrived at your family’s home where Thanksgiving would be hosted this year, Michael was very tense. Very rarely did he ever take his mask off and he hadn’t had a thanksgiving in years. You took his hand and brushed your thumb over your knuckles as you walked inside, taking your shoes off. Your grandma greeted you with a hug and a comfortingly sweet voice.

“Sweetheart! So glad you could make it! Is this Michael? It’s a pleasure to meet you young man,” your grandma said with a smile, touching his hand which made him tense. “Come now, let’s get you guys seated before the food gets cold.”

Mikey was nervous walking through the house, seeing pictures of grandkids and uncles and cousins, seeing everyone seated.

Your grandpa took liking to his muscles,

“Yeah! Looks like you could get the job done, you mind helping me move some boxes in the garage? My back isn’t as nice as it used to be and my kids are pieces of shit.”

“Dad😡”

———————————————————————————

Beetlejuice

Yeah he can pretend to be problematic for thanksgiving.

Would purposely scare the shit out of your cousins.

Your family calls him musty..

Your emo cousin likes him though!!

“Y/N…get him out of here he stinks!” Meanwhile your dead boyfriend is sitting across from your emo cousin who’s lowkey studying him over. He’s just letting them too, he says it reminds them of Lydia.

Your family is boring to him, he’d much rather have thanksgiving at your own house with Lydia and Adam and Barbra.

“Come on babes, this is boring, we’re out of here,” he states as he takes a Turkey leg and promptly leaves the home, hand in yours.

———————————————————————————-

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Your parents and family do not approve.

They’re mostly confused as to why you brought two boys with you. They call it slut behavior.

Billy’s family most likely can’t even get through a normal dinner, let alone Thanksgiving, so he was down for coming.

Stu’s family were out of town and he didn’t want to go to some fancy thanksgiving with a lot of people he didn’t know. He’d rather stay in Woodsboro and get drunk for Thanksgiving, but being with his partners worked too.

Your family is way turned off by Billy, they think he’s rude, where as they think Stu is too energetic.

Billy and Stu would find any excuse to dip, letting them have private time, away from everyone.

Stu would make dirty jokes at the table in you and Billy’s ear.

You get a lot of side eyes from everyone..

You knock on the door with both of your boys, only to be greeted by a strange look.

“Y/N, baby, you brought your friends? How..nice..”

When you were all sat down at the table, your aunt started,

“Two boys Y/N? You friends from school?” Your uncle interjected

“I recognize you Loomis. You better not be causing any trouble.” He practically growled. Billy just nodded.

Lots of apologies to your boys after.

“It’s alright baby, it was bound to happen,” Stu said, grabbing a beer from his fridge

“It’s alright puppy, the food was good,”

———————————————————————————-

J.D

Would genuinely probably be the politest to your parents and family,

Got to make a good impression!!

He’d stay close to you the entire time, making sure to show off who he was to you,

God don’t even get him started on his opinion on politics PLEASE..

I feel like he’s the type of guy that your parents would be nice to in person but when he leaves everyone’s like “he’s so weird?😀”

The type of guy to call older relatives ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’

Would hit the deserts HARD

“Sweetie your new boyfriend is very nice,” your grandma hums as you help with the dishes, he sits in the other room, arguing about politics.

“Yeah, he sure is something,”

“I’m very glad you could bring him,”

Your aunt walks in the room, shaking her head, “he’s really weird honey,” you looked at her with a confused facial expression, “I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just.. odd.”

———————————————————————————

Otis Driftwood

You’re eating dinner at his house. Nothing else.

——————————————————————————-

Baby Firefly

Would actually try to go to dinner with you if that’s what you really wanted.

Would probably make an okayish impression on your family,

They think she’s energetic and odd,

She knows…a lot,

I like to think that she does like domestic feelings, so she might actually love to go to your thanksgiving,

You’re holding her hand as you drive back to the firefly home, smiling as your stunning girlfriend rambles next to you.

“It was so fun! Thank you for taking me baby,”

“Of course,” you hun as she continues to speak very highly of the little tradition.

———————————————————————————-

Poly Lost Boys

Your parents are very thrown off when you tell them that Thanksgiving needs to be a little later than 1:00 this year because your boyfriends get off at 5:00.. (when it gets dark)

They are even more thrown off when four bikers walk in with mullets and frills and no manners at all.. well, the quiet one has manners.

David would try and make a good impression while keeping up his ‘I’m the top dog’ behavior.

Dwayne just wants to help out and actually make a good impression.

Marko will spend most of his time with any pets and Paul will follow in foot.

They house down food. It’s sort of embarrassing

Your parents are so thrown off it hurts.

“Sweetie where did you meet them again?” Your mom whispers to you from across the table,

“So, boys, what do you do for work?” Your father questioned, each boy having a way different reaction it looks suspicious.

Your parents just nod and try there best to get through the dinner.

After dinner it gets even worse, they’re all over you, touching and giving little kisses during conversation, right in front of your parents.. god it was going to be a long night.

———————————————————————————

Carrie White

Genuinely would do her best to come to your thanksgiving if her mama let her.

She’d be all dressed up and pretty, silently so excited that she gets to go to someone’s thanksgiving.

She’s so polite and quiet around your family,

If you all say grace, she’s an active part of it.

She’d be so flustered and happy to be there,

She thinks your family is so nice!!

You knock on the door of her house for her to rush down, saying goodbye to her mama. You would say hello to Mrs.White, but very uncomfortably.. you didn’t like Carrie’s Mama.

You smile upon seeing her. She looks so pretty.

“Hey darling, you look great,”

She blushed, looking down a little flustered, “thank you,”

You open the passenger door, letting her get in and closing it for her. She felt so nice, being treated so kindly. She’d remember this day for a while.

Please send me any slasher requests,

(Although I’m more prone to write for Billy & Stu at the moment)

[simsim54]

alex: so hen, why don't you have a boyfriend? henry: my grandmother would kill me henry: henry: what about you? why don't you have a boyfriend? alex: your grandmother would kill you

[dogboyratgirl]

hey guyssssss

i'm so insane over these 2.........

[white-boy-bracket]

The Showrunner pulled out her hot-pink laptop, placed it on her lap, and lounged back in her loveseat.

Stanley had lost his mouth; as the Showrunner, it was her duty to fix that. She had put off doing it for a bit– Stanley was just Stanley, and she had hoped that the solution might come to fruition on its own– but a full round had progressed, and he was still without a mouth.

That just wouldn’t do.

She searched up ‘Stanley Parable’ in Yahoo, and clicked on the first link.

She skimmed through the advertisement for the game, and saw… no.

No! No, this couldn’t… no.

‘You will make a choice, and you will have your choices taken from you.’

No, no he–

‘You are not here to win. The Stanley Parable is a game that plays you.’

And she saw– oh.

That- that Narrator. She knew he was trouble! And now– now she knows his true nature. How he had made Stanley. How he had played with him. How he had acted affectionate towards him– no, she wouldn’t let this stand. Stanley was– and then, there, it said here that he sometimes destroyed him-

Feeling distress rise in her chest, she typed “https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard” into her search bar and hit ‘enter’. She typed “stanley parable” into the tumblr search bar and saw- well. Art people had drawn, post people made, all very clearly pointing to Stanley being controlled, having no choice- the Narrator- the dictator- controlled every aspect of his life! She saw a post about him turning away someone trying to check in on Stanley- a cage?!

M- maybe she was wrong. She typed “Narrator Parable” into the tumblr search bar, and saw- was… was that art of Stanley killing himself?

She pressed her lips together and scrolled a bit further. She saw someone posting about… the “countdown” ending… they seemed lustful towards the narrator… she clicked on the video they had linked…

He blew him up?!

Oh, no, she was not wrong. This Narrator was just like, just like- 

Her breath came in short gasps, and suddenly the cloak felt too heavy, too hot- she was sweating now, and her makeup would run-

She wasn’t wearing her heels, and her feet clinked across the marble floor as she ran as well as she could into the bathroom. She splashed her face, the cool water calming her, the runoff colored the pale color of the makeup she put all over her skin.

She had to get- she- Stanley was already away from him, but- was that- was that all she could d- ANNABETH. That girl was, what, 17? And she’d-

She felt hot with panic, and quickly grabbed some foundation powder and applied it to her face rather carelessly. 

She ran out of the room, then- stupid, stupid, stupid- ran right back in, tripping over herself and landing with a thunk. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” She whimpered, crawling across the floor to her cloak and pulling it on. She pulled herself to her feet using her chair and then slipped a pair of wedge heels onto her feet- these would help her run more steadily. 

Limping slightly from the fall, she hurried out of her apartment and into the adjacent, heart shaped room where she kept her… terrariums. She rushed over to the ornate, Victorian style dollhouse she’d retrofitted and, hands shaking, makeup dripping, pulled out a key and swung open the front. 

Annabeth looked up at her, clearly startled. She brandished some kind of weapon- The Showrunner wasn’t sure where she’d gotten that, but all the better to defend herself from-

Where was he?

The- the Narrator wasn’t in the- 

She grabbed Annabeth (gently- The Showrunner liked Annabeth) and pulled her away from the dollhouse. The girl was only a little bigger than The Showrunner’s hand. Annabeth’s makeshift dagger clinked harmlessly against her skin.

She searched thoroughly. No. Oh, he was gone alright. 

She walked a few feet over to an unused terrarium- this one like a cabin, with a small grassy area and a sand pit with a tetherball. A safe terrarium. One the Narrator had never been in.

She lifted the glass dome and set Annabeth gently inside, quickly closing it. She latched the bottom up safely. Annabeth would be safe here. No creator-predator would get Annabeth as long as she stayed safely inside of that dome. 

The Showrunner crossed back over to the dollhouse and latched it tight. If the narrator returned, he’d be locked in there alone. 

Now, to find him.

[kirbyfigure]

.🧾 ੭࣪⭒ ࣪˳ 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 ་ ᳝ ٭ 𔘓

[karinamariee]

honey

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: it all tastes and feels like honey.

warnings: smut, mdni!! pls

authors note: i like short reads im sorry😩

—————————————————————————

“fuck…” you moaned, throwing your head back. rafe had been so good at eating you out, you know it had felt like honey on his tongue. he had told you multiple times. it had felt so good.

“yes, baby, you taste so good.” rafe said, then shoving his face back in your folds.

“your tongue feels so good,” you whispered, but loud enough for him to hear.

he went ham on your pussy, making sure all you remembered was his name. but you remembered everything about him. the curves of his body, his beautiful eyes, his striking smile, and those fingers that would fuck your hole so fucking good. you could never forget him even if you tried. you had loved it. you had loved him.

“i’m gonna cum,” you said. “fuck, i’m gonna cum rafe. fuck, fuck—“ you came all over his tongue, gripping his head harshly since he had his buzz cut. he stuck his tongue out, making sure to catch every drip of honey he could.

“this pussy is mines,” said rafe, moving back up your body. “this pussy taste like honey.”

you kissed him harshly, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“just like honey,” he said, pulling himself out of his jeans.

[shaylogic]

"Oi, don't wait up for me, yeah?" Charles informs Edwin, "I'll be in Crystal's room all night."

"Charles! I'm surprised at you," Edwin exclaims, looking flustered.

"It's not like that, mate--she's been having nightmares about David and I've agreed to keep her company. Said she feels safer with a friend looking after her, y'know?" He shifts from one leg to the other, one hand rubbing his other arm, absent-mindedly. "It's not a big deal, alright? Just didn't want you wondering after me." He shrugs non-chalantly and gives his partner a gentle clap on the shoulder before re-entering Crystal's room.

She's already changed into her sleep clothes and curled up under the covers. Crystal meets Charles' eyes and pats the bed beside her. With a small smile, he approaches and sits on the side of the bed, leaning on one hand and looking down on her.

"Would you like to talk before bed, or should I leave you to it?"

Seeing him only sit on the edge, she takes his hand and guides him to lay down next to her. "C'mere. Just lay with me, okay? If you don't mind. . .?"

His eyebrows raise and a twinkle of excitement crosses his eyes that he fails to suppress.

Crystal rolls her eyes at him and he chuckles. She pulls his arm over her side and holds onto him as best she can, letting out a long sigh. Charles feels a fluttering sensation in his chest, like a memory of a quickening heartbeat.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sure it'll be less interesting than however you usually spend your nights, and I'm not much company to you when I'm asleep."

He grins, fingers attempting to brush lightly along her back. "I wouldn't say that."

She looks him up and down. "Oh, geez, you're not gonna' like, stare at me all night are you?"

"Well, I don't sleep, but I could try closing my eyes and laying here with you. Seems restful, anyway, doesn't it?" Her brow furrows, and he mirrors her expression, sobering up. "I'm not sure, uh, what your plan was?"

". . .I guess I'm not sure, either. I just didn't want to be alone in this big, empty room tonight."

"You could invite Niko across the hall for a sleepover," he teases, tempting her to explain why she chose him.

She recognizes this immediately and narrows her eyes playfully, pursing her lips, and refusing to take the bait. "You've got a cricket bat handy if any other ghosts or demons decide to pop up overnight. Niko would probably just talk their ear off and try to set them up with each other."

He chuckles. "Tough to argue with that."

. . .

After a while, Crystal's breathing slows, her chest rising and falling in smaller increments. Charles does observe this for a moment, before realizing he's doing exactly what she told him not to do. He shifts so he is staring up at the ceiling.

He can't feel Crystal's breath and warmth beside him. Without looking at her, he could forget she's there. He could just be laying alone in this bed for no reason.

He turns onto his side again, facing her and snuggling as close as he can without phasing into her. He has to focus to keep his form solid enough for her arm to rest on.

He closes his eyes and replicates breathing, concentrating on being present, and trying to remember old sensations. How would this moment feel, if he still had his body?

A cold chill runs down his core and he tries to focus on the memory of body contact sharing warmth.

While Crystal has one of the best nights of sleep she's had in weeks, Charles struggles to remember how it felt to be alive.

[white-boy-bracket]

Showie woke up on the right side of her bed. This was… unusual, but she didn’t feel the panic she had felt the last two times this happened. It was probably because Xigbar seemed to insist on the left side of the bed. The warmth on her side was Xigbar. She took a deep breath and yawned. Her sheets were a different texture than normal. That was odd. But not alarming. 

“[OMITTED LAYER 2]?”

She froze. 

“[OMITTED LAYER 2], I know you’re awake. I saw you yawn.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe. She stayed still. Like a statue.

Her heart was beating so fast it hurt. Oh gods. 

This was just a dream. She’d had this dream before.  

“I don’t know who gave you that ghastly coat, [OMI-2]-ie, but I got rid of it. A figure like yours shouldn’t be so covered up.”

The coat? Xigbar’s coat? He got rid of it? 

Xigbar’s coat was never in her dreams. 

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

She heard footsteps come from across the room. She couldn’t run.

So she just stayed perfectly still.

Like a statue.

FUCK IT

Showie and her Ex-Husband from @white-boy-bracket are now in the running! Why? Because why the fuck not

also Stanley and The Narrator are back in the running, going against Showie and her Ex!