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wildhosh · 1 year

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seventeen as roommates

roommates-to-lovers trope warnings: mentions of food in jihoon and hoshi’s pairing: gender-neutral reader x svt genre: fluff! wc: ~1k ☆ notes: hi guys! i’ve been consumed by this for weeks. these are all over the place. close proximity is one of my fav tropes. the hoshi one gets me the most </3 enjoy!! (not proofread)

seungcheol

he comes in shirtless from a run, fixing himself a glass of water in your shared kitchen. you literally cannot look at him. the blush rushes up and threatens to spill over you. he notices. he walks extra close to you as he makes his way to his room.

jeonghan

the landlord made a mistake and double-booked your studio apartment. there’s nothing you can do about it for at least the first month because you already paid your rent. you can’t afford to find anywhere else. so it’s you and jeonghan in a singular large room; the only privacy you can get is in the bathroom. as much as you want to be mad at the situation, at jeonghan, you can’t help but notice how pretty he looks while he sleeps and how soothing his mindless humming is as he cleans.

joshua

you’re studying the same subject in university and you share a study group. the group decides to move in together but as they grow and change, they fall out of their study habits, bar hopping almost every night, leaving the apartment alone to you and josh. your nightly study sessions turn into movie nights and cuddles on the couch. when you wake up in his arms, late for the class you share together, you have no regrets.

jun

you share a bathroom that connects your room to his. your schedules line up almost exactly, with you both getting ready at your respective sinks each morning. he always tries to talk to you while you’re brushing your teeth. you hope that maybe, just maybe, he might eventually ask you about your day when you don't have a mouth full of toothpaste.

hoshi

although you spend most of your days apart, you gather without fail every night in your room where hoshi lays on your bed, swallowed by your pillows and stuffies. you eat a snack and ramble about your days. sometimes you watch a movie, sometimes you listen to music, and sometimes you simply lay in silence. it starts to feel like home. he starts to feel like home.

you know something’s changed in your heart when you catch yourself smiling and your face growing warm at the note on the counter. something along the lines of “saw you ran out of that disgusting snack you love that i always tease you for, i’ll pick some up on the way home. love, hosh” with a poorly sketched drawing of his favorite stuffed animal in your collection eating said snack.

wonwoo

you needed a place to live and your friend is like well there’s an extra room in my house. as you move in, you walk past a room playing soft music with an unknown guy inside it. your friend is just like “oh yeah that’s wonwoo. don’t mind him.” but his soft, shy glance at you from across the room as he turns the page of a book you love makes it difficult to put him out of your head.

jihoon

he’s literally never home, always coming in during the wee hours of the night and leaving before the sun rises. yet when you do see him, you're drawn to him. he has a charm to him, and you start to love simply sleeping under the same roof as him. you feel bad that he’s always working so you start to cook dinner for two, making sure the meal will keep well in the fridge, eating your own portion, and packing the other in a dish that you put in the fridge. you leave a note on the counter before you go to sleep: "jihoon, for you. eat well and take care of yourself." i wish you could see the soft smile that grows on his face as he reads his name written in your handwriting.

dokyeom

you’re new to the city, his friends have all moved away. he’s the only one left in the city when you move into the room that used to be his friend’s. he was worried he would be lost without them, but showing you around the city and sharing your nights together fills his heart more than he ever thought it would. you make it worth staying.

mingyu

he’s scared of storms. you aren’t. on a particularly rainy week, he feels like he’s going insane. he swallows his pride on the third night of constant thunder and knocks on your door. you’re shocked at his urgency and disheveled state. “i can’t sleep,” he deadpans, pushing by you into your room, taking a seat in your desk chair, and running his hands through his hair. whether it’s reading him a book, watching a movie or listening to music with him, or talking to him, you calm him down. he needs you, and you don’t mind being needed.

minghao

he’s a recluse honestly. he isn’t 100% comfortable with you so you only really see him every now and then, whether it’s in the kitchen cooking up a single-serve dinner to take back into his bedroom or throwing his clothes in the laundry really quickly (he doesn’t separate lights and darks) before retreating again. it’s for this reason that it shocks you when he invites you to join in on a game night with his friends. he catches himself smiling at your interactions with his friend, heart warmed by your giggles.

seungkwan

he’s your best friend before moving in together and remains your best friend. expect him to be on your bed every night telling you everything about everything. the proximity has you noticing things you never have before, like the way his eyes sparkle in the dim light of your room and how they refuse to leave your face as you tell him about a new song you like. your breath quickens as the butterflies in your stomach threaten to break out.

vernon

you get used to the bass lightly bumping through the walls. home feels empty without it. it’s when you find out that the music he plays is his own that everything changes for you. the music isn’t home. he is.

chan

your undergarments end up in his laundry somehow. he is too scared to give them back to you. after about a week of missing them, you have to ask him if he’s seen them. he pulls them out of the top drawer of his dresser. when he sees the curious look on your face with your eyebrows furrowed together, he blushes profusely, rushing to explain himself. you just giggle at him.

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teddie-bear420 · 2 months

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CHARLIE AND VIVA

The princess of hell and her trusty knight are on a mission to save sinners souls!

Doodles and rambles under the cut, and I mean like walls of text

be aware I make shit up a lot, I was very high on drugs and gay sex

Welcome to the show I’ve made in my head, ok where to begin? I guess with how boring I find Charlie nd vaggie in the show proper, I like them, they just don’t have any real spice to them. Charlie is a just a girl, she has no real friends and just surrounds herself with others problems. Check out the beginning of episode four, husk just says that out loud, we saw it once with angel dust and then they totally drop it for the rest of the show. I wanted to see Charlie fail and get back up again, but we don’t see that! Idk maybe I want more out of the text but I hated to see Charlie act like a baby, not a young woman, I makes me so mad that she isn’t really friends with anyone, no fun dynamics, Charlie kinda just looks at her guests and ‘employees’ but she never sees them. I mean like give me some bff moments with Charlie, she has no friends, she a loser baby!

Vaggie is the best better at making friends, and enemies honestly she is the second protagonist. I hated her until I saw her fuck ass bob. I fell in love

Ok so I made a prequel hazbin design that I just fell in love with, here she is. Ok so girls is bugs, vaggie is a moth and lute is a mantis, they grew up together in heaven. Being raised to be an exorcist was pretty sweet except for the military indoctrination!

Wonderful lute convo here

So vaggie is now in hell and is saved by Charlie, who believes that vag is a sinner. Eventually they get together romantically and start working on the happy hotel project, then they get angle dust as a guest. You know the deal, but how did vag get with Charlie? Who asked who out? I love how loyal vaggie is to Charlie but WHY is she so loyal? I think because Charlie wanted to ask about vaggies life and she took the opportunity to become a new person !

I think having char be the ray of sunshine in such a violent place attracts the lost and broken to her is cool. Vaggie tells ridiculous lies about her human life like being ran over by a horse. And being a pirate captain. Vaggies colors go from green to purple, aesthetic goes from Joan of arc lesbian to a captain Ching Shih lesbian yknow what I mean?

Charlie is taken in with this eccentric woman and befriends her. And also when Charlie and vaggie start to get closer char gifts her the red ribbon that vaggie wears all the time. The pink red is Charlies color and it sticks to all of her friends! Like when angel and Charlie get really close she gifts him the hot pink gloves and he wears them for the duration of the show. (I’ll write about that in another post lol)

MY CHARLIE loves to feed people food she’s made, so she just keeps feeding vaggie and the she starts to beef up, buff 5’4 vaggie lets gooooo. They cook food together and help sinners together. I forgot to mention that Charlie in my perfect world does actual charity work, she works down at the soup kitchen and cleans up the parks and gives people work, Charlie is just constantly busy and never gives herself a day off. Vaggie does her best to help while constantly working on her prodigious.

These girls also work at the local theater! They do a lot of dress up! And i really liked the idea that Charlie is astanged from her dad and is no contact with him. So she isn’t some princess that’s throwing money at the poor. She builds her own motel for the happy hotel project so that when it is destroyed they can build the hotel proper and have an actual emotional impact.

A little comic I sketched of out, Charlie was calling her dad for help with the hotel but he completely shuts her down and calls her idea dumb, I liked when Lucifer was a shitty dad that called Charlie a failure, instead of some sad loser who forgets to call his daughter, like I have a shitty dad and he tore down lots of my ideas and then is confused when I don’t talk to him.

Like idk how there are so many characters with daddy issues but they all are poorly written…

What else is there? Ermmm, I suppose I like Charlie as a demon that looks the most human out of the cast, like sure she has clown makeup as skin but giving her round ears and a demon tail looks super cute. And in the first few episodes Charlie hides her tail and uses it as a belt, and as a show of faith she reveals her tail to the hazbin gang!

#teddz stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #chaggie #charlie x vaggie #vaggie x lute #hazbin hotel redesign

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visceravalentines · 2 years

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I wish you would write a fic where….

Sinclair bros. gang bang tbh

Alright Nonnie, here we are. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while but the maximum number of people I've ever had sex with at the same time is one (1) so it was kind of daunting to tackle three at once (heh). It got away from me a little bit on the buildup but I hope you like it! Happy to write more like this in the future so if you want me to give it another shot, lmk.

The Sundress

Poly!Sinclairs x Hinge!AFAB!Reader

Smut, group sex, oral, voyeurism, praise kink/dirty talk, no pronouns used but reader wears a sundress, gets called "doll" and "pretty"

This morning you decided to wear a very particular sundress.

You found it at a thrift store on a solo venture into town. It was cute, had a tiny floral print and ruffles on the straps. It wasn’t completely your style, but there was just something about it. It fit your frame perfectly and at the same time, it was both scandalously short and devastatingly low-cut. You wondered if it was too much as you gave the skirt a little twirl in the dressing room mirror. There was a time when you wouldn’t dare wear something like that out of the house for fear of the attention it would attract.

Now, however, the only attention that existed in Ambrose was much more than welcome.

You went ahead and bought it. The thought of each of your boys’ reactions made you giddy and a little smug. You hung it in your closet and waited for the right day to come along to bring it out: a day when you felt especially sexy and particularly devious. A day when things had finally calmed down after a long and busy week in which you all barely saw each other and most definitely had not spent any quality time together.

That morning, you took a few extra minutes getting ready. The stars had aligned for your little plan. Your hair was gorgeous. Your skin was glowing. You looked like a snack and felt like one too. You practically pranced down the stairs despite admonishing yourself to play it cool.

Bo and Vince were at the breakfast table, enjoying a leisurely morning after the hectic week. Bo had his nose deep in a Clive Barker novel, absently sipping his coffee. Vincent was chewing on toast and sketching.

“Good morning,” you say cheerfully, pulling open the fridge and leaning forward just a little to see if there was any orange juice left.

You hear Vincent stop chewing. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you watch him hit Bo in the arm, his eye glued to you.

“What the hell d’you – oh my.” Bo’s eyebrows shoot up and he immediately places his book facedown on the table. “Well good mornin’ to you, doll.”

You flash them a sugary smile as you pour yourself the dregs of the juice. Vinny’s eye is wide as a saucer. Bo is actually licking his lips. “Did you guys sleep well?”

“Sure did,” Bo says. “What d’you have planned for today? Anything…in particular?”

You perch on the edge of the table, skirt sliding up beneath your ass just a little bit. “It’s supposed to be real hot today, so I figured I’d go through and water all the flowers one more time.”

Vincent is scribbling absently back and forth over his half-finished sketch. “Good plan,” he signs. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be alright. I can manage a hose, you know.”

“Yeah I bet you can,” Bo murmurs.

You smile at him. “What do you have on the list today?”

Bo talks and Vinny signs at the same time.

“Nothin’ much – ”

“Basically nothing – ”

“ – just gonna clean up around the station a little – ”

“ – probably going to do some inventory of art supplies, super boring – ”

“ – definitely gonna be, y’know, a little bit lonely….”

“ – could use some company for sure….”

A giggle almost escapes your lips. “Well, maybe I’ll catch up with you later.” You hop off the table, adjust your skirt, flounce to the doorway and then turn around. All eyes flick back up to your face. “Hey, when does Lester get back?”

“Lester?” Bo says flatly.

“Late, I think, very late,” Vincent signs.

“Oh, okay. Good to know. Bye guys.” You give them a little wave.

The morning passes with a shocking number of chance encounters. Something is broken in almost every building you visit, and Bo simply must fix it today. Similarly, Vincent informs you he needs to do a spot check of wax figures to make sure they’re holding up alright, and wouldn’t you know it, there are flowerbeds nearby every single one.

Watering flowers is hard work, and you can’t possibly be blamed for the sheen of sweat that glistens on your face and arms, nor the number of times you are required to bend over a planter box, nor the fact that you filled the watering can too full and splashed a little water on your bodice and Bo missed his aim with a hammer and smashed his thumb.

When the heat of the day rolls around in the mid-afternoon, you decide to break for lunch and head back up to the house. The twins are nowhere to be found. You are halfway up Main Street when the rattle of a familiar truck engine reaches your ears.

You turn around and beam at Lester, who is quite literally hanging out the driver’s side window. “Hey stranger!”

“Hey yourself,” he says, parking the truck in the middle of the road. “You look – well, now – that is a mighty fine dress.” He blushes.

“Thank you!” You give him a twirl.

His mouth is actually hanging open. He quickly closes it and swallows hard. “Y’know, I would…I’d offer you a ride, but…how ‘bout I just walk you home instead?”

“I would love that.”

Lester climbs out of the truck and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He is remarkably clean, nothing but a few bloodstains below his knees. He offers you his arm, which you gladly take.

“Don’t you need to move the truck out of the road?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Nobody comes here anyway. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, just watering flowers. It’s hot today.” You toss your head, fan yourself.

“You’re damn right. Been workin’ up a sweat, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Geez.” He cannot take his eyes off you. “Where’re Bo and Vincent?”

“I’m not sure. They’ve been hanging around all day, but I haven’t seen them for a minute.”

“Yeah I’ll bet they have. You’re prettier than a field o’ phlox, honey.”

You squeeze his arm. “Thank you, Les.”

He stops at the edge of the yard. “Hey listen. Lemme go change outta these clothes, then why don’t you and I sneak over to that lil meadow on the east side o’ town? Do a little catchin’ up.”

“That sounds lovely.” You start towards the house.

“Ah-ah, why don’t you wait here? I’ll just be a minute.”

You frown innocently. “But Lester, it’s hot.”

“Well I’ll grab you a drink and bring it back out with me. I jus’ don’t want you gettin’ sidetracked is all.”

“Okay I guess.” You shrug your bare shoulders.

“Be right back, sweet pea.” Lester kisses your cheek, immediately turns bright red, and practically leaps up the front steps and into the house.

Today has been quite the success so far, you think as you kick at the edge of the lawn with a sneakered foot. You’ve been in Ambrose and involved with the Sinclairs for a good while now; it’s nice to know you can still fluster them when you feel like it.

You wait around for a fair few minutes before the front door opens and Vincent steps out, beckons you. “Hey angel, why don’t you come inside? I’m almost done with lunch.”

“Aw Vinny, that’s so sweet of you. But I told Lester I’d wait for him to finish changing.”

“C’mon, you know he’ll be a while. He’s got no concept of time.”

“You’re right about that. I am pretty hungry.”

You climb the stairs, step inside. Vincent shuts the door. Your eyes fall on Lester, who hasn’t even changed yet, standing next to Bo, who has his arms crossed over his chest. Vincent comes up behind you, weaves his strong arms around your waist, holds you against him. You furrow your brow in mock bewilderment. “What’s going on, guys?”

“You’ve been a regular little cocktease all day, that’s what,” Bo says.

“Me?”

“Yeah you.”

“It ain’t fair,” Lester pipes up.

“Prancin’ around all day lookin’ like that.”

You can’t help but smirk and shrug. “Sorry.”

Vincent drops his hands to your hips, pulls you a little closer. You feel a half-established erection pressing against your ass.

“Well, lucky for you, we’ve all come together and decided on a solution,” Bo announces, moving leisurely toward you. “You wanna put on a show, darlin’? We’ll let you put on a show.”

A thrill shoots through you. “Well I suppose that’s only fair.”

“More’n fair, I think,” Bo says as he squares up in front of you.

The first press of Vinny’s lips to your neck sends chills down your back. Bo takes your chin in his hand and bends to capture your mouth. You feel Vincent suck at the thin skin behind your ear, relishing the salt of your sweat.

Already your brain begins to fray with the input of so many sensations at once. You put one hand over Vincent’s, grip Bo’s shirt in the other, and have almost forgotten there are three Sinclair brothers when you feel a gentle brush of fingers on your left thigh, then your right, and then Lester’s hands are beneath your skirt and sliding your panties down. You wonder where he can possibly fit in this arrangement for only a second before you feel his tongue on your sex.

A hopeless moan escapes your throat and Bo breaks your kiss. You open your eyes and note with satisfaction that his face is flushed beneath that smug expression.

“I sure do love seein’ you flustered, darlin’.”

“Right back atcha, sugar,” you say.

Oh, but he does love a spitfire. He seizes your lip with his teeth, running his thumb over your collarbones. Vincent slips the straps off your shoulders and continues his adoration of your skin. Lester, ever the dark horse, already has you unsteady on your feet with long, slow licks. You weave your fingers through his hair and arch your back as Vinny’s deft hands slip beneath the fabric of your dress to cup your breasts.

When you cannot possibly hold yourself up any longer thanks to Les’s ministrations, they disentangle themselves for a brief, heartbreaking moment so you can weave to the couch. You ease yourself back against Bo’s chest, let him hold your wrists in place around his neck, all but trembling with anticipation as Vincent positions himself at your entrance.

“Now darlin’,” Bo murmurs in your ear, “I don’t want poor Les feelin’ all left out here. So why don’t you keep your eyes on him while Vin makes you feel real good, alright?” You nod desperately, lock eyes with Lester, who winks at you. Bo cups your jaw, thumbs your lip. “An’ I’ll be right here, makin’ sure you know what a good job you’re doin’, what pretty sounds you’re makin’. Does that sound okay, doll?”

You open your mouth to respond and Vincent, ever the opportunist, picks that moment to ease himself into you, all the way, an inch at a time. The whine this elicits from you is positively wicked and you hear Bo chuckle against your temple.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so much fun.”

As Vincent picks up the pace, hands running over your legs, you do your best to keep your gaze fixed on Lester, whose hungry expression leaves you feeling a whole new level of naked. All the while Bo pours a steady stream of praise and filthy commentary into your ear, rutting against your backside as his twin draws a series of sinful sounds from your lips.

Eventually Vincent trades Bo and Bo trades Lester, and you have the unique and genuine pleasure of experiencing the techniques of each one of them in quick succession. Somewhere along the way you are lost in oblivion, your body electric, lavished in kisses and caresses and admiration from all sides.

When at last you are spent and so are they, Bo brings you a glass of water, Lester plants a tender kiss on your brow, and Vincent carries you up to bed.

And that sundress sits in a heap on the floor, forgotten for now, until the next time you decide to capture your lovers’ attention.

#poly sinclairs #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #vincent sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #asks #anon asks

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maccaronimassacre · 8 months

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Some angsty Ethan Headcanons because I’m procrastinating.

A/N: Should I be doing the coursework that I was supposed to do over the summer? Maybe. For now here are some headcanons while I question my sanity (Who knows, maybe I’ll do some more for my favourite mold man.).

—————————————————————————

Ethan definitely viewed himself as an alright looking guy. Not ugly but not incredibly attractive either. Just kind of average. However, after Louisiana his self confidence tanked HARD.

Ethan’s the type of guy to cover his mouth with the back of his hand when ever he laughs or smiles, but the way his eyes crinkle and squint after a particularly funny joke is beyond adorable.

He impulsively wanted to shave his head after the events of Dulvey out of sheer desperation to get rid of the mold on his body.

He probably scrubbed himself to the point where it hurt just to feel clean again.

Definitely wears long sleeved shirts and hoodies or even watches to cover the scars on his wrists.

He can’t stand looking at photos of himself or looking in the mirror, feeling like something is constantly looming over him and reminding him that he will never be the same person he was before Dulvey.

Enjoys making small sketches of all the people that he meets whether it’s a cashier from the local grocery store or Chris after a day of training under him.

Ethan never draws himself though and if he does they are usually scribbled out or torn up immediately after.

Always makes a conscious effort to stay out of photos or have himself be the camera man. (Most likely afraid of ruining the photo or feels undeserving to be included in such a special memory).

He can’t stand the look or smell of raw meat after the Bakers so he’s usually the one to cut vegetables and prepare side dishes while his partner is the one to cook and prepare the meats.

Before Dulvey he found bugs annoying and creepy but after Dulvey he developed a legitimate fear of them, including insects like butterflies and moths.

#ethan winters #resident evil 7 #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters headcanons #ethan winters angst #headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

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McGee x reader - this moment

When you have time, could you write something abt artist reader and Tim relaxing with each other on a day off. Maybe Tim is playing his games or typing away on his typewriter and reader is sketching away in their sketchbook but they have writers block so they decide to use Tim as their muse? Just extreme fluff please 😭 if there is anything else you’d like to add, please go ahead! Thank you 🫶🏼 - Anon💜

Sometimes you liked spending time with Tim, learning about the games he liked or just watching films or just talking.

Today you were sitting on the couch, sketchbook in your lap as you listened to music through headphones.

He walked in and when he saw you sitting there he smiled and got changed, heading over to his computer he sat down and loaded up one of his games.

You knew he’d come home, he had made you a drink and sat it on the table next to you, but you were so immersed in what you were doing you didn’t have time to process it.

You sighed, flicking to a clean page, you got up and pulled your headphones down around your neck, taking a sip of your drink you stood up and stretched.

“Hey darling.” You spoke softly.

Tim pulled his headphones down and turned around, smiling softly at you.

“Hey, you seemed really focused so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He took his headphones off and stood up, walking over he slipped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck.

“That’s alright, how was work?”

“Not to bad, one day I’m going to smack DiNozzo though.”

You laughed a little and leant up, pressing your lips softly against his in a gently kiss and he softly kissed back.

You pulled away and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Just ignore him Tim, you’re twice the man he’ll ever be.”

“Thanks sweetheart.”

He gave you a quick kiss and you rested your head on his chest, and you both just stood there for a few minutes happily holding one another.

“Im going to go for a bath, do you want me to order food after?”

“I’ll do that don’t worry, I’ll get your favourite.”

Tim kissed you again and let you go for you bath.

You were in there longer than you though, just relaxing and enjoying the warm water and when you got out you realised the food had come.

Tim was back at his computer and you just walked to the couch and sat down, looking at your sketch book then to him you picked it up.

You kept looked at the pages and at Tim, very carefully drawing, making sure to pay close attention to the detail.

Tim had no idea what you were doing, even as the hours passed and you started new sketch after new sketch.

When he realised what time it was he shut down his computer and stood up, stretching.

“Sweetheart?” He asked softly.

He turned to the couch and saw you fast asleep, sprawled out, book on the floor.

Tim laughed a little and walked over, kneeling down he picked up your fallen pen, and set it on the table.

Then he picked up your book, going to close it he stopped when he saw the sketch on the page.

Looking at it, he smiled and just admired how well detailed it was, every careful stroke of the pen, every careful attention to detail.

Smiling to himself, he closed the book and set it on the table and brushed some hair from your face, kissing your forehead.

Standing up, he carefully picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, laying you on the bed as he walked over to his side and laid down.

He laid there just looking at you, a smile on his face as he reached out and gently touched your keep.

“Tim…” you mumbled.

“Go back to sleep…” he whispered.

You just nodded tiredly and got into a more comfortable position and reached out, lightly grasping on shirt.

He smiled and ran his thumb along your cheek.

He just admired you, taking his ever possible moment of this as he could, burning the imagine in his brain.

Reaching over, he pulled you into his chest and tucked your head under his chin and closed his eyes as he held you lightly

#ncis #ncis x reader #ncis x you #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis fic #ncis fandom #mcgee x reader #timothy mcgee x you #timothy mcgee x reader #McGee x you

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snakegorl212006 · 9 months

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The “little things” they do (Ignihyde)

-------------Idia------------------------------------

Being watched is something I grew accustomed to. Living with ghost watching your every move. Idia is no different although he tends to avoid me then most. Prefers to be on his own and barely bothers me unlike his younger brother. idia is a man of secrets and every time i clean or spend a night over here there’s always some specific room he doesn't want me to visit or stumble upon. He’s simply a normal shy stereotypical ghost. But lately he’s gone creeper. Sometimes i can see a flicker of light in my room every now and then or he just looks at me behind some corner. I should be used to being watched but….idia’s glances are the most chilling.

“Idia” i spoke which made him jump from his seat. He turns around to me all timidly “y yes” he asked “you know you can just come talk to me” i stated and he nods “then why do you just stare at me all day” i asked “doesn't the others do the same thing” Idia replied “yes but even rook says hello to me. You don’t have to be so shy. Feel free to be open” I stated before walking off. I suppose I let my guard down around him but he’s too timid to even interact with me. So I thought…

Idia asked me to clean his lab so I obliged and aided in his organization. While cleaning i came across a picture. It was a well done sketch of a person in some school uniform. The date seems to be somewhere in the victorian era like 1800’s. They somehow have my face. There were more papers of this person below and notes scattered around. I never read the notes, only saw pictures. Similarly to the build of ortho, this person was a build for some doll. This doll model had my name as the name for the doll. Maybe it’s something like Cater. I brushed it off and placed back the loose papers in the folder. Once I was done cleaning I began to head out of the lab. Once out i saw a door open. I assumed idia was there so I went to the door and entered the room. The room was pitch black so I had to feel around for a light switch. There wasen’t a switch but there was a string which I pulled on to illuminate the room. Paper scattered around designs,outfits, part blueprints. Everywhere and scattered around. All had something in common each had my name on them. In the center of the room was a life size doll. This doll had the same uniform as the picture found in the lab and it had my face “you weren’t suppose to see this yet…” a voice spoke from behind. Idia stood tall in the darken corner. He walks up the the doll and fixed the clothing “do you....like it” he asked “this is supposed to be your present when you die” Idia explained “I’m not dying yet” I replied “Oh I know. I prefer you to stay alive just a little longer” Idia stated as he looks at me “I want to reminisce how you look just like them” He smiled “same face. Same scars…almost like a digital copy” Idia list “once i can make my attachment to your soul. You’ll be able to use this doll. Like you’re alive. Like ortho. Wouldn't that be cool” Idia said “what if i don’t want a attachment” I asked “like you have a choice” he frowns as the tips of his hair turns red “ok…” i mumbled “so do you like it so far” Idia asked “ya.. Keep up the good work” I replied which made him soften “I’ll continue to work hard..for you” He smiles not caring if i lied through my teeth.

----------------Ortho-----------------------------------

“Big sister, where are you?” ortho asked. I was currently in the kitchen making a snack for myself “I’m in here” i called a doll like head popped though the corner. “Can we go outside” Ortho asked “sure. Idia’s locked in his lab again” i asked and he nods “it’s fine though he’s busy with your gift” ortho said with a smile. I know what that gift was. I stumbled upon it the other night. There’s nothing gift worthy about it. “When will you think you’ll use it” ortho asked “i…I don’t know” i replied “Big brother worked really hard on it so I’m happy you like it” ortho smiled and i just nod as i finished up my food “hmm how would you want to die. I can do it painlessly if you like” Ortho asked “painlessly” i questioned “I did it with idia so i can do it for you too if you like” the child beamed. My blood went cold as i let this information sink in. “dose Idia know” I asked and he nods enthusiastically “He understands how lonely it is being dead so I had him join me” he smiled “If you’ll allow me. You can join us and we wouldn’t be lonely anymore” He stated. “Well how about we don’t talk about it and plan a surprise for your brother” I stated trying to change the topic. Ortho beamed and nod “come on let’s go in town and look for something” Ortho said as he dragged me by my hand so care free like this conversation never happened.

#twsited wonderland haunted au #twisted wonderland ghost au #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere platonic #yandere platonic ortho shroud

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skribleskrable · 1 year

Photo

A little sketch that turned into a slightly bigger project. Maybe I’ll clean it up /fix it a bit and put some color on it tomorrow or some other day. (also really wanted to get Irvine’s dirty magazine in there somehow, but just didn’t work :P )

#rinoa #squall #ff8 #ffviii #final fantasy viii #skribleskrable #final fantasy

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c0ffinshit · 2 years

Text

Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome (The Grabber x Reader)

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

A/N: hello all! i really liked how this turned out so if this does well, i’ll make this a series!

I DON’T CONDONE (Y/N)’S ACTIONS, THIS STORY IS FICTION AND SHOULD REMAIN FICTION, PLEASE DON’T DO ANYTHING IN THIS STORY IN REAL LIFE.

word count: 907

warnings: yandere-ish, stalking, (y/n) is a cop hater (as she should), a bit of bribery, mentions of past kidnappings, paparazzi by lady gaga core, albert just needs a break (he has been thru ENOUGH)

Hybristophilia (also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome) a form of paraphilia (abnormal sexual desire) involving sexual attraction to people who have committed some sort of "outrage.”

You’ve been obsessed with Albert Shaw since you saw his police sketch in the newspaper. Your life stopped being yours and started being his at that moment. Anytime he kidnapped another child, you would cut out the article and pictures and tape them above your bed. You figured out who he was long before the cops could even guess. Your job was to protect him and throw off the pigs the best you could. It went as far as you getting a van that looked like his to drive around it. Every dollar and coin you got from my job would go into a jar, saving up so you could move into the house next to his. Every Saturday, you would deliver him letters that you would write yourself. And the minute you got home, you would wait patiently for a reply that would never come. Maybe he didn’t have any family members or fans that wrote him letters. Either way, you wrote to him any chance you got. When you wanted to see him, cute dates you two could go on, among…other things. You never got as far as that. As much as you wanted to cut off your hair and glue it to a sheet of paper. He’s the man of your dream; you didn’t want to scare him too bad.

You went out one night; you can’t remember when. All you can remember was he finally got caught. At first, it was a surprise when you heard the news. Your jaw dropped when you looked at the TV and saw his face all beaten and bruised. The friend who was with you didn’t know of your…obsession, for lack of a better word. So when you started crying, she was confused and tried her best to comfort you. You tried to explain through your sobbing, but she only shushed you and told you, ‘everything was okay.’ But it was the light of your life that was in jail and away from you, something you couldn’t bear. You had to see him; You didn’t care what I had to do.

You waited until you got home the next day to call the police department to see if he was taking visitors. They said no. That he wasn’t taking visitors and probably never will since he doesn’t have any family that’s alive. Your heart broke, he couldn’t see you, and you wouldn’t get any updates on where he might be or what he might be doing. Lying was the only reasonable option in this case. The following day, you woke up early and put on your nicest-looking clothes. Making sure to cover your face just enough so no one would recognize you. And you walked about five miles to the police department, where Albert was being held.

He will be so thankful to see me.

The big dark building stood tall, almost threatening. But you weren’t afraid of some men in a blue uniform. As you entered, the sound of shoes hitting the linoleum floor filled the silent room.

“Hello, officer, I’m here to see Albert Shaw,” you said, trying to barely higher a voice than your own.

“Family only, lady,” the officer had a harsh tone, like a knife.

“Oh, but I am,” you slid the cop forty dollars, “I should be on the list,”

His eyes spark, and he takes the money.

Oink Oink, you thought as he escorted you to a chair with a phone.

Now the only thing between Albert and you is glass. His face is barely visible when you finally spot him turning the corner. He looked so bruised and bloody, but his cuts were clean and healing, for the most part. Albert finally sat down and picked up the phone.

“What?” he asked, his voice sour and gravelly. Finally, his voice.

Your face lit up, and you took off your disguise, “Al, honey, It’s me,”

He looks up and groans, “Christ, (Y/N), can’t you leave me alone?”

You looked at him, your confusion running clear, “What?”

“Can’t you take a hint? Why don’t I respond to your psycho-sexual letters? I’ve through enough in the past twenty-four hours,” he puts the phone down and places his hands on his face.

You were so confused. Didn’t Albert love you?

“But Al, we are meant to be together–”

He picks up the phone again, “BUT THERE IS NO US! There has never been this ‘soulmate’ bullshit you constantly talk about in your letters. You hardly know me!”

You put the phone down, fighting back the tears. With your hand against the glass, you hoped Al’s hand would follow yours and apologize.

“Give it up (Y/N). I can’t give you what you want–”

You let your hand fall back to your side. You gingerly pick up the phone again, “Yes, you can, I know you can. I’ve seen and followed everything you’ve done. You’re a sweet guy; just give me a second chance,”

Albert places his hand in the same place your hand once was.

He lets out another heavy sigh, “If, and only if, I get out, I’ll give you that second chance,”

You wipe my eyes at the happy news, “Oh heavens, thank you, Albert, I’m so grateful–”

“But we do it on my terms, alright?”

You nod your head vigorously, “God, yes, thousand times yes!”

He gently smiles, “Now, tell me about yourself. Not what you want to do to me, tell me things about you,”

#The Grabber #the black phone #the grabber x reader #ethan hawke #ethan hawke x reader

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ramblingoak · 1 year

Text

My Husband Is Now Bones, Chapter 5: Zombie Queen

Thank you to @rabidghoul for the zombie!Terzo sketch! I love him.

~ Omega and zombie!Terzo’s story is now complete 💜 ~

Previous Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

This is for the Ghost Creative Challenge put on by @petrifyingpapas . The first week’s theme is “Resurrection”. Thank you to @kissingghouls for helping me with this story and for cheering Zerzo on.

Terzo x Omega (major character death, murder, horror themes, decapitation, blood, zombie violence/gore, once more for the people in the back: ZOMBIE VIOLENCE/GORE, ZOMBIES DOING ZOMBIE THINGS, NSFW, 18+ only MDNI)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Hold still or I’ll have to start over.”

Terzo huffed, but obliged, settling back against the wall. They were still in the catacombs but Omega didn’t plan on being there much longer. Terzo was getting antsy being stuck in the dark and Omega didn’t blame him. He belonged upstairs walking the halls of his abbey. He deserved to feel the sun shining on his face.

Omega just needed to finish his damn paint first.

He smoothed the brush along the bridge of Terzo’s nose, laughing when the man’s eyes crossed trying to follow the movement. Terzo reached up and attempted to grab at the brush, clinging to Omega’s hand for a moment before bringing the back of it to his lips and mouthing along the skin there. Omega brought his other hand up and slid his fingers through Terzo’s hair, laughing when Terzo nearly purred as he scratched his nails along his scalp.

It wasn’t that long ago they were doing this very same thing in Terzo’s bed and the thought made his heart ache. He planned on devoting the rest of his life to making sure they could continue to enjoy moments like that, like this. So much had happened since that day, so much had changed. The feel of Terzo’s tongue on his skin brought his thoughts back to the present and he looked down to see a playful smile on Terzo’s face.

Well, not that much had changed.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Omega!”

He tensed at the voice, shushing Terzo when he started growling. He had just gotten him calmed down after all the excitement when he got back from upstairs. Terzo had been having a hard time sitting still after eating and Omega needed to get him cleaned up so he could bring him back there.

So he could bring him home.

It had taken longer than he had thought it would for Copia to come find them. Omega had expected some more of his Ghouls at first but there hadn’t been any sign of them. He liked to think that maybe they were scared after seeing what Omega had done to Aether and Swiss. At how he had made sure their blood decorated the walls of Terzo’s room.

Omega hadn’t wanted to kill them, he had considered them his friends at one point. But they had made their choice and Omega couldn’t forgive them. Terzo wouldn’t have wanted them to live anyway. The look of glee on his face when Omega had brought the parts of them he had decided to gift his Papa with had been beautiful, but it was nothing compared to the look on his face when he gave Terzo Imperator’s head.

Terzo had cooed and reached shaking hands out for it, his gloves covered in gore from Mary and the Ghouls. Omega would need to figure out how much Terzo needed to eat to sustain himself, to keep him alive. Right now he didn’t seem to want to slow down, pulling the Sister’s head into his lap and gazing into her face.

“Omega! Omega wh-what’s happening?!”

He ignored the Cardinal and knelt down in front of Terzo, Imperator’s head still in his lap. Terzo had refused to let go of it, snarling at Omega when he had tried to take it. When Terzo didn’t look at him right away he ignored the mess on his chin and gently gripped it so they could look into each other’s eyes. Terzo tried to say something so Omega shushed him and leaned forward so their foreheads met.

“This is all for you, Papa. You know that, right?” He felt Terzo’s head move up and down against him and Omega smiled. When he let go of his chin and moved away Terzo’s head tried to follow him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something. “It’ll be ok. I’ll take care of you.”

They both turned when they heard Copia shout again, much closer than before. Omega pressed a quick kiss onto Terzo’s forehead and stood up, accidentally knocking into one of the piles of teeth Terzo had made. Once he had finished eating everyone he had started making piles of bones and such around him. He hissed at Omega and reached a hand out to scrape them back together, the nails of his gloves scratching against the stone. When Terzo pouted up at him Omega gave him a wink and headed towards the door.

“Don’t worry, Papa. I’ll bring you back some more.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ EPILOGUE ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

His Papa looked as handsome as ever.

Omega had gotten him into a clean set of papal robes. Ones free of blood and gore, of the smell of death. They sparkled in the moonlight streaming in through the chapel windows. His eyes sparkled too as Papa glanced around the room, but they rarely left Omega.

There weren’t many that stayed after word had gotten out about Imperator and Copia. Omega hadn’t let himself be bothered with it. He had been busy helping Terzo settle back into his room, back into his role as Papa. There had been Ghouls to banish, ones he didn’t trust to be loyal to the church. To the new Church of Emeritus.

(It wasn’t going to be called the Church of Zerzo no matter how much Cowbell begged.)

Obviously he had summoned Cowbell back. Most of the older Ghouls actually, those that were with Primo and Secondo. Special was probably the most important as according to Cowbell he had the most experience with resurrection magic. There had been a few that hadn't wanted to, a few that decided to stay behind but Omega respected their choice. He respected anyone’s choice. The atmosphere in the abbey was definitely different than before and no one needed to stay who didn’t want to be there.

Omega’s next goal was to bring Terzo’s brothers back. Cowbell thankfully seemed to know a number of occult practitioners besides Mary and he had been working to contact them. They hadn’t deserved what Imperator had done to them either and he wanted Terzo to have his family back. Cowbell was confident he’d be able to find someone to get the job done.

The Ghoul had learned not to bring up fixing Terzo though. For Omega there was nothing to fix, despite what he had demanded of Mary at first. As the days had worn on all Omega could see was his Papa, his lover, his husband. Terzo was perfect the way he was and Omega didn’t want anything to change.

Terzo reached a hand out his way, almost like he knew Omega was thinking about him. The bones that he had sewn onto the back of Terzo’s gloves clicked together as his fingers stretched out towards him. He let Papa take a hold of his hand and Omega reached up to smooth some of his hair back behind his ear.

While his white eye was as striking as always the green one had taken on an almost purple hue. Jagged red streaks ran along from the pupil across the rest of his eye. He had seen a few siblings flinch away from it but Omega thought it was beautiful. A purple eye to match his own purple gaze. It was just another sign they were meant to be together.

Terzo‘s hand squeezed his and Omega smiled at him. The necklace of bones that he had made Terzo rattled as he fidgeted in his seat. The bones and teeth of Copia and Imperator seemed like a fitting thing to use for his Papa. Omega reached over and straightened it for him, smiling as the teeth rattled together. Terzo leaned back and purred, always pleased when Omega fussed over him.

Maybe he’d make him a crown of bones next.

The chapel doors swung open then and he helped Terzo stand up to welcome their congregation. He heard Terzo start to sniff the air and growl so he shushed him, ignoring the snarl he got in return.

“You just ate before this, Papa. Remember?”

He was still getting the hang of how much Terzo needed to eat. Too much and he would get irritated easily, snapping at even Omega for the smallest thing. It was worse when he ate too little though and Cowbell was already whining about having to summon more Ghouls so soon.

When Terzo continued to growl and fidget Omega helped Terzo sit back down and then looked over to where Special was waiting and nodded. The Ghoul walked behind the pulpit and brought out what still always seemed to calm his Papa down. Omega ignored the murmurs building in the crowd and just watched as Terzo clutched Imperator’s head to his chest, smoothing a glove covered in her own bones over her hair.

He motioned for Special to get the items for communion and raised his hands towards the rest of the chapel, pleased when they all stood. Terzo’s eyes were on them as they filed into the aisle and prepared to accept His body and blood. Omega could smell the fear in the air, but if any were too scared they were welcome to leave. Cowbell had been worried someone might try to hurt Papa, but that was one thing Omega wasn’t concerned about.

He had promised Terzo that he wouldn’t leave his side. He’d promised him that he would protect him from anything and anyone. Omega meant to keep that promise no matter the cost. His Papa could also hold his own now though, better than before at least. And if anyone did try something and Omega wasn’t close enough…well...

Terzo was always hungry.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Next part in the series: A Gift Of Bones

my masterlist

my ao3

#petrifyingpapas #my fics #my writing #terzo x omega ghoul #papa emeritus iii x omega ghoul #terzo x omega #papa emeritus iii x omega #terzomega #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #omega ghoul fanfiction

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dont-touch-the-phlebotinum · 1 year

Text

With a faint ding the elevator doors peel open. Steve's been reassigned enough times by now to know the drill, and this, stepping out into a narrow, dingy sub-basement corridor, isn't it. The place seems more likely to house cleaning cupboards and dusty storage rooms than offices. If he thought his own cubicle upstairs was depressing, it's nothing compared to being forced to work down here every day.

It doesn't exactly fill Steve with confidence.

"This way," says Agent Cunningham. The click of her heels echoes off the bare walls as Steve follows.

"So, are the rumours true?"

"I don't know what rumours you're talking about."

"Cunningham," says Steve.

She stops with a sigh and looks back at Steve. "He's mostly harmless," she says.

"But he likes the freaky cases."

"Well that's why you're here, isn't it, Agent Harrington? And if your record is any indication, you shouldn't have any trouble at all finding a scientific explanation for those freaky cases."

She turns and walks ahead, leading Steve farther into the forgotten depths of the building until they reach a door with an X on a scrap of paper taped in place of a name plate. Cunningham raps primly at the door – not that anyone inside is likely to hear it over the heavy metal blaring from within – and lets herself in.

Steve takes a cautious step after her and peers around the room. It's more of a closet than an office, the precariously stacked archive boxes and piles of manila folders loaded atop every surface only adding to the claustrophobic feeling. Newspaper clippings are pinned to the walls alongside blurry photographs of dark shapes in the sky and what Steve's fairly sure is another Bigfoot hoax. There's even a poster of a UFO right opposite the door, for God's sake.

If someone was trying to decorate for a deranged conspiracy theorist, they'd come up with something like this.

Steve wonders if maybe that's the point.

Finally his eyes land on the mop of dark curls bent over the desk, haloed in cigarette smoke and bobbing along to the music until Cunningham turns off the stereo.

"This had better be good, Chris."

"Eddie, this is Agent Harrington–"

He spins around in his chair to face them, and Steve's eyes track over him; the scars on his left cheek, faint but still visible; the shirt sleeves rolled past the elbows to reveal tattooed forearms; the dark eyes glaring back at them. He doesn't look like a conspiracy loon. He doesn't look much like a federal agent, either. What he looks like is the kind of guy Steve would drag home from a seedy bar and never see again come the morning.

Steve shakes away that thought.

"I told you I don't need a partner."

"And I told you that decision is out of your hands," says Cunningham. She turns to Steve with a smile, as if the two of them aren't currently being glowered at from across the room. "Steve, meet Agent Munson."

"Harmless, huh?" mutters Steve.

"Mostly. I'll leave you two to get acquainted," she adds, louder, and gives Munson a stern look. "Be nice."

Before either of them can protest she's stepping out of the room. The door shuts behind her with a definitive click, plunging the room into a stony silence.

When Steve looks back Munson's already watching him, sizing him up without subtlety. A hint of a wry smile hovers at his lips. "Is this a punishment for me or for you?" he says.

"Both, I suspect." There's a pencil sketch tacked up beside him – some kind of monster without a face that he's willing to bet Munson drew himself – and Steve studies it with a grimace. "You really believe in all this stuff?"

A quirk of a dark eyebrow. "You really trust your government to be wholly open and honest about the existence of the paranormal?"

"We work for the government."

"And?" he says. He shakes out another cigarette and is about to place it between his lips when he frowns down at the pack and decides against it. Instead, Munson picks up one of the pens scattered across his desk, clicking it over and over, so fast it grates on Steve's nerves.

He watches the discomfort flicker across Steve's face, and doesn't stop.

"So you're here to, what, report back to the brass that I'm as out of my gourd as you all think I am?"

"That's not my brief."

"What is your brief?" Munson shoots back. His eyes fixed on Steve are hard, but wary, perhaps. Defensive. It's not a look Steve was expecting from a man who drapes his reputation around himself like a mantle.

"These cold cases of yours," Steve says. "Maybe there is no scientific answer out there. But where there is, it's my job to find it."

"What happens when you can't?"

The words are a challenge, and after a lifetime of competitive sports the old cockiness is creeping back in before Steve can even think to repress it. "I don't think that's likely."

Munson grins and pushes himself out of his chair, snatching up one of the folders on his desk as he saunters across the room towards Steve. "Beg to differ," he says. He hands Steve the folder.

Inside is a picture of a doctor surrounded by smiling patients and a lurid newspaper headline about MK-Ultra by some writer called Murray Bauman. The publication is unfamiliar, which doesn't do much to reassure Steve that this Bauman guy isn't a quack.

"You ever heard of Hawkins, Indiana?" says Munson.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #steddiedaily #my writing

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brokenheartedartichokes · 1 month

Text

Limits

Some days I wish to be one of my paintings

Fluid colors trapped in beautiful liminal space

And all they are is my mind poured onto canvas

My heart beating through the brush

The world being to much it bubbles up and overflows into the messy pages of my sketchbook

My pain turned to watercolor bleeding through the pages

Entire notebooks filled to the brim with pen scratched heartache

And endless renderings of your perfect face

Some days I wish I could wash away

I could drown in my paint cup and be whisked down the drain

Or maybe sat on the counter left to slowly evaporate until the sadness breaks

I wish to be in long forgotten sketch pads

Laden with long forgotten teenage dreams

I can jump through hope for the future

That leaves me longing for the past

I wish to be art

Trapped beneath always clean glass

Or maybe in a Bansky watching the world slowly pass

And I’ll be labeled graffiti and painted over

But come back again in a crayon drawing on someone’s mothers fridge

I wish to be limitless

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red-baron-wolf · 1 month

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Hello all! Thought I’d address some questions in my inbox.

Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone for all the support and concern! I promise I’m not ignoring you or this blog out of spite!

I’ll try and be more active but atm, I don’t have much new content to post. But I will post some of my own sketches and art.

“Where have you been?”

I’ve spent the last few years training to be a commercial pilot and now have a job flying. (Unfortunately not flying Typhoons like Baron does but still pretty cool)! This has however taken a crazy amount of commitment and work to afford it so been working all hours. These last few years have been mad, I’ve been dealing with some personal issues that happened that I don’t wish to disclose here but it’s been tough. Things are on the up now thankfully and I now live with my partner.

“Why don’t you respond?”

I haven’t logged into this account in ages so simply didn’t see any messages. For that I apologise, I had to prioritise my own mental health, work and career progression.

“Why no new fursuit content?”

I haven’t worn Baron in over 2 years due to being so busy. His suit is well looked after and kept brushed/clean. I want to take more photos and will do when I have time. I know I have some specific requests which I’ll do at some point!

I haven’t been to cons since 2019 and not sure if I will bother with U.K. ones again but maybe EF one day!

Thank again for your support, I’ll try my best ❤️ (I’m not flying the Q400 in the photo fyi! I fly something else similar 😉)

#baron talks #question answered #question #red answers #red talks

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pkmn-nextgenadventures · 10 months

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Since it’s Father’s Day I figured I’d clean up this year-old sketch of Cyrus with little Eris… they may both look like 😐 but they have such a close bond. Maybe I’ll write some more about them later!

#or if you feel like sending me asks about them / the gingashipping family please do #they live rent free in my head always.#pkmn fankids #cyrus #eris #art

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solarmorrigan · 2 years

Text

All headcanons on Newt’s level of tattoo coverage are good, but personally I like the concept sketches from this post because it looks like he doesn’t have any on his back (yet) and it just makes me think, like...

The first time Hermann sees Newton’s back, he’s startled.

He’d known, on a certain level, that Newton doesn’t have any tattoos back there, but there’s a difference between knowing this and seeing the sudden shock of pale skin, punctuated only by a few stray tendrils of ink and what look like a few hundred freckles.

He loves the view instantly.

It feels almost silly, certainly a bit nonsensical, because if Newton isn’t wearing a shirt then of course his torso is completely uncovered, but something about the clean skin at his back seems more naked for the lack of ink. It seems more vulnerable, devoid of armor or protection, and Newton lets Hermann see it. It feels both sacred and immensely satisfying.

[a little bit of not sfw below the cut]

Hermann becomes incredibly fond of pressing kisses up Newton’s spine, and rubbing his thumb at the nape of Newton’s neck so he can watch the flush descend, and biting and sucking at the backs of his shoulders because any bruises he leaves will show properly. He becomes intimately familiar with the clusters of freckles and finds it oddly comforting to trace their shapes at the end of a long day, brushing his fingertips across Newton’s back until Newton complains about the tickle.

Then Newton starts talking about getting a tattoo over his left shoulder blade, and Hermann can’t help but be disappointed.

“Oh,” is all he says to Newton’s announcement, barely glancing over the sketch that Newton is waving.

Newton deflates, and now Hermann feels guilty. “Dude, I know you’re not a fan of the tattoos, but I thought maybe you’d at least like to see...”

“I don’t dislike your tattoos, and you know it. At this point, I think you just take perverse pleasure in making me say it.” Hermann sighs. “It’s only that I’ll... miss certain things.”

“Certain things?” Newton parrots, unfortunately failing to grasp Hermann’s meaning.

“Certain things,” Hermann says, steeling himself for the mortifying ordeal of divulging the slight preoccupation he’s developed regarding the bare skin of Newton’s back. “Things like your freckles.”

Newton snickers, but he looks pleased. “I’ve got freckles pretty much everywhere, man, you can look at the ones on my face any time.”

Hermann hums. “But it’s not the same. And I’ll miss seeing the way the muscles flex under the skin. It’s a better view unobstructed by any ink.”

“Uh huh?” Newton says, his smile fading into something a little more interested.

“I’ll miss the way the... marks I leave show up against your skin,” Hermann ventures, and is rewarded by the dart of Newton’s tongue as he reflexively licks his lips.

“Well-”

Hermann goes for broke. “I’ll miss seeing it all presented for me, just your naked skin, when I have you laid out under me in bed.”

Newton makes a short, strangled sound. “Well, I could, uh. Maybe be convinced?” he manages. “You know, to put the tattoo... like, somewhere else.”

“Could you?” Hermann raises his brows.

“Maybe.” Newton smirks at him. “If you make a good case.”

Hermann feels he makes an excellent case, pressing Newton into the bed and laying him out precisely as he’d described. He lavishes attention on his bare back, sucking kisses across his shoulders and scraping his teeth delicately down the curve of his spine while he fucks into Newton with deep, slow rolls of his hips. He tongues his favorite formations of freckles and presses his thumbs into the dimples at the small of Newton’s back, and if the way Newton continuously cries out and pushes up into Hermann’s touch is anything to go by, he also feels that Hermann is making a very good case.

“Alright,” Newton pants some time later, still lying face down on the bed, more puddle than man, “I can get the new one on my thigh, or something.”

Hermann, worn out himself and draped at Newton’s side, only hums.

“Unless, y’know, you’ve got any objections,” Newton continues, one eye slitting open to look over at Hermann. “Like, any particular fondness for that area that you wanted to register for my consideration.”

“It is a nice area,” Hermann replies, sly and sleepy. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Eye closing again, Newton smiles into the bedsheets. “Awesome.”

#newmann #newt geiszler #hermann gottlieb #pacific rim #hermannnewt #solar wrote

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