#he also learned some basic hygiene

[emilicious0]

Could you do more of nsfw headcanons for Lucifer please?

lucifer's nsfw alphabet

I decided to do this wayyyy, hope I will saticify your requests

MDNI!!!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

really caring, always making sure that you are okay after you guys are done

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves his hands and he likes seeing them on your body; lives for thighs and your neck (buries his face in there)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

creampie, creampie, creampie. loves to feel like he is marking you as his.

also loves to see his cum on you (like your stomach).

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

has hard time with cumming on his own, and always needs you to do it

(and sometimes he wishes you would spank him, but he is too embarrased to tell you that).

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I mean he has experience, but... yeah, you need to teach him or you can learn together ;)

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

face-off (likes to kiss you) and cowgirl (wants to see your face).

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

it depens, but he can allow himself to be a little silly (if it makes you happy).

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he is very well-groomed and always tries to maintain hygiene when doing such things.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he is so romantic like- no sexy things if you are not in the mood

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

masturbates a lot, but like I said has a problem with cumming, he needs you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

humping (a lot of it, in his clothes as well), sub!/dom! relationship, slight degradation

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

his office, and bedroom... anywhere in his house, but never outside.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

you. especially when you act all dom to him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

hurt you while during it or doing it when you don't want to. also never extreme stuff like choking, he is too sweet.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he likes to give and receive equally (PLS RIDE HIS FACE)

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

his pace is rather sensual, but when he is about to cum, he starts to go faster.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he is not a fan of quikies, he wants to devoure you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he can take a risk and try something new, but again, he is never going to hurt you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he can go all night... this man has some crazy stamina.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

no... he never tried them and why, when he has you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn't like to tease you, but likes when you tease him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he is pretty loud and expressive.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he is a total sub.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

12 cm (4,7 inch), with erection 18 cm (7 inches).

long and slightly veiny.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

when it comes to you, it's pretty high.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep )

straightly after you two clean up, he snuggles close to you and you both fall asleep.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader

[lovemomhatepolice]

rafe cameron nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Well, it depends on your relationship. If you're just a fling sex that happened at a party or friends with benefits, don't count on appropriate behavior after. Rafe can have any girl, so he doesn't pay much attention to it. However, if you're in a relationship together or in the pre-relationship phase and you've totally turned his head, oh girl. Rafe will stand on his head as long as you are happy and properly taken care of. Baths, long cuddles, and even conversation (something that wasn't popular for him before) are standard after your intercourse.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I don't know if Rafe has a favorite body part in himself. In general, he thinks he is a handsome man - well, and he is not wrong. He likes his athletic arms and chest, because he pays a lot of attention to that when he exercises. He likes his face because he knows very well how charming he looks. And I think he appreciates his penis. It may not be the most beautiful part in the human body, but his… God. In you, he loves how small you are compared to him. Regardless of your dimensions, you will still “hide” behind him. He loves to see the difference in the size of your hands. He always laughs at how his hand could be two of yours. Well, and he loves your pussy. He has already pronounced her his property, so you can tell for yourself how much he likes that body part in you. Especially since you fit together like a puzzle (well, maybe Rafe is slightly too big, but everything will fit)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves to see you in his cum. More than once he ends up on your breasts, buttocks, belly…. Wherever he could. And the very fact that you bravely swallow everything after a blowjob each time literally puts him on cloud nine. He may not be a big fan of ending up on your beautiful face, but in the mouth is something else. D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He loves that you are his pillow princess, but there are still thoughts in his head that he would like more of your dominance. The sight of you bouncing on him has sunk so deeply into his mind that he wants it more and more… E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Rafe is experienced, let's not kid ourselves. Before his relationship with you, he had plenty of girlfriends for one night or a few times. However, the fact that he wasn't more involved with any of them definitely changes things. Thanks to you, he actually learned what he really likes and that sex doesn't have to be a purely physical activity at all. But going back - he is experienced. Damn experienced and he knows what he's doing. With his hand, with his tongue, with his cock… F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Rafe's favorite position is definitely missionary or one where he is between your legs. He likes to be in control, plus he likes that he can change the angle of his entry into you, so these positions allow him to do so perfectly. In addition, the sight of your face directly in front of him, on which are painted various signs of the pleasure he is experiencing…. Your neck, which is covered in plenty of hickeys in no time. And your lips, which are locked in a kiss. Yup G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He's not some super playful during sex. Rafe focuses on intimacy and closeness, not silliness. He's not likely to be able to fool around. Of course, there are moments when you giggle or say something funny, but mostly your intercourse is focused on the romance of the moment. H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Rafe is all shaved up at the bottom. He hates hair that would unnecessarily get in the way. And he thinks having them is not very hygienic. As for you - he would also prefer you to be completely shaved or at least properly trimmed. I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

At first, for Rafe, sex was only something physical that could give him vent to his excitement or anger. Only with you did he discover that it could also be something else, which is why he is just learning. However, over time you began to notice that he was giving you more and more compliments during intercourse or wasn't afraid to make noises. So yes, you are on the right track. Maybe soon he will even leave rose petals on the bed or light candles?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He doesn't do it often because you are side by side usually, however, he has something he really likes about masturbation. He likes it when you see him do it. Sometimes of himself he just makes you watch and counts down how long you can last without touching him. And vice versa - you do the same. K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) I think Rafe has a lot of kink. But such a strongly dominant one is breeding kink. Especially with the death of Ward and Rafe's decision to move out of Tannyhill and any homes that had ties to his family. Yes, this is the time when the oldest of the Cameron siblings sees himself in the family with you and your children. He himself doesn't know what kind of father he would be and the thought scares him a little. But the mere fact of seeing you in your pregnant belly with his child, Mother, it drives him so much. L = Location (favorite places to do the do) There is no suitable place for Rafe. In fact, he could fuck you even in an open space in the park if you wanted him to. You like to experiment, so your sex takes place there and then when you feel the urge. However, let's not kid ourselves, most often it takes place on your bed or in the shower. Or in the kitchen or living room… M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) There is no particular thing that after excites you in a unique way, but if you just have an attitude, Rafe feels the need to punish you for it. He hates it when you tease him, but at the same time it excites him so much that he repeatedly lets you do it. Oh, and of course the skimpier dresses he buys for you himself.

A/N: next part is already here! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

#outer banks x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe x reader #rafe cameron drabble #rafe imagine #obx rafe cameron #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut

[natti-ice]

Tom Riddle NSFW Alphabet.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, under the cut are NSFW headcanons

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Tom can be quite rough during sex, he has a lot of aggression that releases during sex so he makes sure you're okay afterward. He doesn't mean to hurt you. He cleans you up after making a mess, he leaves kisses on all the areas he was the roughest(your ass mostly, he's really into spanking). He isn't always the most affectionate person in public but behind closed doors, he'll hold you and ask if you're okay.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He knows he is attractive and is very confident in himself. He has toned muscles but isn't bulky, he likes his forearms and his hands the most. He loves using his hands, he likes watching you squirm. He is definitely a tit man, but he adores your ass. A nonsexual part he loves is your neck, kissing and leaving hickeys are his foreplay.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Creampies. He loves finishing inside of you, it feels like he's marking his territory you're his. But he does switch it up sometimes, facials are also a favorite of his. He likes when you're on your knees in front of him, he likes feeling dominant.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you got together he used to watch you from afar, not on some Joe Goldberg shit though. He was very fascinated with you from the moment he saw you, he needed to know more about you. You aroused him just by breathing, he often thought about what it would be like to fuck you, all the things he would do to your body.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Tom is quite experienced, he had many sexual encounters before meeting you but none of them had feelings involved. When you got together he had to learn how to incorporate intimacy during sex. He immediately knew all the right places to touch you, learning your body was the easiest thing to do.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He's more of a missionary man but where you have your ass hanging off the bed and he's fucking you while standing, it gives him more control. He likes watching the pleasure on your face, he loves turning you into a complete wreck. Also, he loves how your tits bounce when he thrusts inside of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tom's a pretty serious person so he isn't very humorous but he will chuckle when you look pathetic under his touch.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes a lot of pride in his looks and hygiene, he keeps everything neatly trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

At the beginning of the relationship, it was purely for sex. He wasn't too worried about romance he just wanted to get his rocks off. But as he started to fall for you he incorporated more romantic gestures. Like foreplay, going on dates, etc. In the moment he tries his best to make sure that you're enjoying yourself, he won't do anything you aren't comfortable with.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He has always been an active masturbater, even though he can have you whenever he wants he still masturbates. He thinks about all the times he's fucked you, all the places he's fucked you, the way you melt under him, just thinking about you makes him hard.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a few different kinks, he likes degradation, hair pulling, spanking, public sex, light bondage, and edging (he loves to hear you beg).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly, he'll fuck you anywhere and in front of everyone, he loves showing off what's his. Public bathrooms are always pretty accessible when you're feeling horny in public. At home, he likes taking you on the floor, the shower, the kitchen counter, and literally every room in the house.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You don't have to do much to arouse Tom, wearing a more revealing top can turn him on. Teasing him or making him upset makes him very horny, getting under his skin is the best way to get him into bed.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Tom is pretty open to most things but he really does like to stick to the normal things he likes. I don't think he would like being a sub though unless it was something you really wanted(plus I think he'd be afraid that he would like it.)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Tom doesn't mind blowjobs(he prefers you to deepthroat him) he loves to eat you out. He's very skilled with his tongue, he knows the right pressure to put on your clit, fingering is also a must, and he loves hearing you moan.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

When you both first start having sex it's pretty slow and gentle, he likes working you into it. As time goes on, he gets pretty fast and rough. Being rough is a big turn-on for him, throwing you around in the bed a little bit really pushes him to the edge.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is always up for a quickie, especially since he knows how needy you can be. No matter if it's a quickie or not, you're having sex. Every. Day. He's also pretty busy sometimes so it helps him relieve stress.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As I said before, he's down to try anything that you want to do even though he likes to stick to what he knows he likes. Sometimes if he's feeling spontaneous he'll suggest you try something new.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

There's a two-round minimum every time you have sex. He can last up to 30 minutes a round, he's trained himself to last longer to please you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He definitely has a vibrator he uses on you when he really wants to see you get worked up. You know as soon as you see it, you're getting edged. Having control of your orgasm brings him pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

THE BIGGEST TEASE! Like I said he's really into edging/orgasm denial, making you beg for it by teasing your pussy with his dick, even in public he'll whisper in your ear the filthiest things and watch you try to stay calm.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When he's fucking you he can be pretty loud, he moans when he's deep inside of you. He's a big dirty talker, he calls you all sorts of names like slut, whore, bunny, etc. Not everything he says is degrading though, he loves telling you how good you feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's secretly always wanted to have a threesome but knows he would get too jealous and ruin it for you so he never says anything.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

He definitely has good length and girth, it's not too big to the point it hurts but it's big enough to stretch you out. For the rest of his body, he's very fit but not overly muscular. He's never really understood the desire to have big muscles.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man's sex drive is crazy. He doesn't really know how to deal with his emotions properly so it all goes into his sex drive.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Sex does relax him but unless you're fucking at night he won't fall asleep. After you two finish he'll cuddle with you until you fall asleep, sometimes it takes longer for him to go to sleep because he always has something on his mind.

#natti’s 18+ #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x reader smut #tom riddle smut #tom riddle headcanon #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x fem!reader #tom riddle fanfiction

[bidisastersanji]

Classic high school anime tropes ZoSan omigosh listen up this is so cute and I have so many tropes to hit I basically wrote down the beats of the season:

Unexpected mid semester half foreign transfer student Sanji with mysterious past

Zoro sits by the window at the back of the class and Sanji is told to sit next to him

Dropping the eraser and brushing hands oh my this new guy has the softest looking hair and his eyes are so blue

Your eye-

Huh?

Your eyebrows look stupid.

What did you say you stupid mosshead?

-Roronoa. Black. Stand outside. (With the buckets, staring daggers at each other)

Thus starts their rocky friendship (?) and they’re forced into interacting because they’re sat next to each other in class and constantly are paired to do class work together.

Sanji’s flirty and deferent nature around women- students and teachers alike (and his occasional nosebleeds) rub Zoro the wrong way, and Zoro’s disregard for women, hygiene, manners, the dress code/uniform etc annoy him even more.

He also hates how popular Zoro is and the amount of love confessions he gets and that he does not handle gracefully at all (you’re such a brute!)

Rivalry intensifies during sports class- episode where they go absolute ham during dodgeball and scream out attack names

Although it must be noted that Zoro feels warm when he sees Sanji stretching effortlessly, and being sweaty and fiery during sports class

Nami is elected class rep and Sanji vice class rep

The high school girls think Sanji is princely and mysterious and he quickly becomes popular thanks to his beautiful bento and the snacks he makes for his girl classmates

Zoro observes him and thinks he’s always putting on a mask and keeping people at arms length. He doesn’t let himself admit that he kind of feels bad for him but subtly drops comments that get Luffy interested in him so that Luffy can force him to join their rowdy friend group

They go to karaoke and the strawhat shenanigans slowly crack at Sanji’s composure until he’s singing loudly and happily with everyone else by the end of the evening

From then on Sanji’s smiles are more genuine and happy and Zoro is more than content with his little plan

Nami noticed and teases him about it

At least one scene where Nami steals Sanji or Zoro’s umbrella so that they share one and go home together (they learn they have to go in a similar direction and walk some of the way together from that day on “you’ll get lost without my help mossy, we know you already have too many lateness issues with the school)

Sanji joins so many clubs- he works really hard to be top of the class and does all the things that would get him into a top university- and it’s only after Zoro talks to him that he decides to follow his heart and join the cooking club and drop another club

He later gets his first part time job at the Baratie and gets basically adopted by his new father figure Zeff (Sora’s brother who he reconnected with)

He’s so excited to have some money of his own and gets a marimo keychain for Zoro’s birthday

Episode where Zoro gets sick (I thought idiots didn’t catch cold?) and as vice class rep (Nami makes an excuse not to go herself) he has to go give Zoro notes and stuff

Highly entertaining scene where he gets to Mihawk Manor and meets Zoro’s goth family

Followed by sweaty feverish Zoro in his bed that absolutely does not make his stomach flip flop and his hands sweaty (he brought homemade soup!)

Obligatory Zoro pushes himself too hard to prove he’s not sick/weak and passes out on Sanji and Perona walks in on an easily misunderstood position they’re in

BIG EXAM arc where everyone is stressed out, Sanji shares his notes and organises a study group at his place - revealing that he lives alone in a studio apartment, he glides over his explanation and says it has to to with the fact that he’s half and his French dad doesn’t live in Japan, and Sanji wanted to live here because his mother was Japanese. No one dares dig deeper but Zoro can tell there’s a lot more to the story, Sanji looks very tense and his fake smile is on (also there’s no family pictures at all)

Zoro falls asleep during the study group and Sanji definitely doesn’t think he’s adorable drooling on his tatami floors

Zoro is captain of the kendo club and has a very… intense fan club of people of all genders who guard him very jealously

Zoro interacting with Sanji constantly makes the fanclub jealous and some try to intimidate him and bully him into avoiding Zoro but he refuses to be pushed around until they find stuff about his past/family and blackmail him (this happens in a bathroom probably)

Zoro gets insanely annoyed that Sanji has been ignoring him- he then confronts Sanji about it- cue dramatic, tear filled scene where Sanji says hurtful things to push Zoro away

A few weeks pass until Nami and Usopp catch wind of what really happened and Zoro is FUMING with anger when he learns what happened. He confronts the head of the fan club and tells them to burn whatever it is they have on Sanji and to never go near him again, threatening them

Things eventually go back to normal

Zoro exasperating Sanji with his inability to not burn everything they’re supposed to make in home economics

Winter holidays and Sanji is lonely (but happy to spend Christmas with Zeff)

He is cheered up by his friends making plans to go to the new years festival in kimono (he wouldn’t miss Nami and Robin in kimono for the world! - he says , while also thinking of what Zoro will look like) zoro comes in normal clothes and he’s disappointed and insults him for not making an effort and what did he even expect from a sentient plant

Zoro keeps stealing looks at how beautiful Sanji looks in his kimono though. Nami tries to bribe him into revealing what luck/what prayer he did but he doesn’t cave, no matter how much of his debt she would wave off

Sanji gets “extremely bad luck” in love and cries haha

Valentine’s Day and White day shenanigans with obligation chocolates and homemade chocolates and Zoro feels sad cause he didn’t get any from Sanji- is even particularly jealous that Law, Pedro and Ace got some, but Sanji gave him something else since he knows he doesn’t like sweet things but Zoro didn’t realize it was a Valentine’s Day gift until Nami explains it to him later

Zoro struggles to find a gift for white day since he still can’t tell if it was obligation or romantic on Valentine’s Day - he gets Sanji a kitchen knife, to the hilarity of all and the panic of their teacher

The straw hats going to cheer on for Zoro at his kendo competitions and Sanji definitely doesn’t think to himself that Zoro looks very cool

Culture festival is ripe for SO MANY THINGS do they do a maid cafe??? Is Sanji forced into a maid dress by his burgeoning fan club/the girls in the class he can’t say no to? Sanji is so happy to bake the patisseries for it all (also Zoro’s reaction ti Sanji in the maid outfit and saying welcome goshunjin-sama before he sees who walked in and turns tomato red)

Alternatively they could do a play where they have to play the prince and the princess and we get Sanji as the beautiful princess, directed by Iva-Chan of course- and they torture themselves over the kiss scene

Luffy pressures Sanji into accompanying him and Zoro to the haunted house done by another class and Sanji is terrified and grabs onto Zoro (you will never speak of this to anyone, marimo, you understand?)

Beach episode!! Nosebleed Sanj surrounded by bathing suits (not just the girls, this man is a proud bisexual disaster).

Going at Mihawk’s expensive beach house with all the strawhats. Watermelon smashing, ice cream, playing in the water, going in a cursed/legendary/scary/lover’s cave (repeat of Sanji tightly holding on to Zoro for dear life, especially since there are bugs) fireworks, near love confessions with one of the two parties asleep and not hearing it

Background world wise- seven warlords are on the student council and hold a lot of power of course

Obligatory jealousy episode with the childhood friend and misunderstandings- Kuina (yes she’s alive, but a wheelchair user she survived the accident but can no longer compete in able bodied Kendo) comes by school and Sanji misunderstands the tenderness Zoro shows her, jumping to conclusions in typical anime fashion and running away

Class trip to Kyoto arc where the boys struggle with all the romance in the air, sitting next to each other on the Shinkansen (zoro falls asleep on Sanji’s shoulder and he lets him and shushes people), get into trouble when they’re late to the meet up because Zoro got lost( sharing a hotel room - yes Usopp and luffy are there but they need to share a bed omg), buying souvenirs, getting into a fight with local school punks (Killer and Kidd)

ALSO OF COURSE a bath scene during the Kyoto class trip what was I thinking, we need a nosebleed Sanji being taught how Japanese bath etiquette is- Sanji asks about Zoro’s scars and lies about his own when Zoro notices the many marks he has

Possibly tie up the story with finally revealing Sanji’s tragic backstory that’s been hinted at the whole season when Judge comes and removes Sanji from the school and plans to send him to a boarding school abroad- everyone bands together and dramatically save the day and Zeff adopts Sanji and Zoro and Sanji confess to each other and become boyfriends

The end

#wow this got so much longer than I meant to make it haha #I can just picture it so clearly haha #did I miss some tropes ? #zosan #zoro x sanji #sanji x Zoro #zosan fic idea #high school au zosan #anime tropes zosan #op zosan #op sanzo #sanzo #can you tell I’ve watched too much anime #my brain is mush

[peachpixiebby]

The reactions of some men to the hypothetical man or bear question just further illustrates how many men literally hate women. How this 👆is their first thought. Fantasizing about women scared and in pain. This is why we choose the bear. Bc many men take pleasure in witnessing violence against women. It has me thinking about the p0rn industry and how it largely fetishizes this very thing. The faces & noises women make in p0rn. Like it hurts and they don’t want it. And men literally reach climax over the idea.

This hatred towards women begins in the messaging that little boys receive. A lot of learning how to be a man comes from how to avoid feminine things. You’re mocked if you “throw like a girl” “run like a girl” “sit like a girl” get told “boys don’t cry” “those toys are for girls”. The message gets received that being like a girl = bad. Men will avoid human things like basic hygiene, showing emotions, drinking out of straws ??? for fear of being perceived as feminine which this messaging has equated to being weak.

The other day, my coworker tells, what he thinks, a “hilarious” story of how his parents once punished him by having him hold a sign advertising his sister selling Girl Scout cookies. Even holding a sign that says the word “girls” was meant to be shameful?? I tell him that encouraged toxic masculinity to shame him by associating him with something feminine. He snickers and says it was a different time. NO. Challenge these ideas. He has kids. I wonder if the cycle will continue (by his reaction I fear it will).

It’s just crazy how deeply rooted the hatred of women is in our society. The Supreme Court just had a session debating just how many organs must a woman lose before DR’s are allowed to preform a life saving abortion. Even when the pregnancy is no longer viable.

The deceased have more bodily autonomy than women. A person must have consented to being an organ donor during their life for it to be legal to use their body parts to sustain another life.

I really really fear for our future as it’s clear the government looks at women as baby incubators instead of autonomous humans. And the fact it’s masqueraded as a religious motive when really it’s about making more future workers and consumers. Also like what happened separation of church and state? 🤔 why are we making laws in respect to religion? Christian nationalist want everyone living under their rules when the United States was founded on the basis of freedom of religion. This, among MANY MANY additional dumpster fires, makes my heart and soul ache. It makes me angry and bitter. I’ve lost so much trust and hope in our leaders and society. There’s still good out there but man is it hard to focus on sometimes

#journal #bear or man #feminism #girlblogging #fascisim #usa politics #captialism #toxic masculinity

[xjulixred45x]

Can I please get HCs for Young Gojo and Geto with a boiling isles witch reader. Wherein both of them are utterly slacked jawed when they see her in action for the first. The context is Yaga was the one who enrolled them and acts like their guardian in the human world

This is kinda strange (? But okay! Whatever i love The Owl House so-

SatoSugu x Boiling islands! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: some spoilers from Both series(JJK Hidden Inventory mostly) but nothing too relevant. Reader is a Witch. Fluff. Mainly comical.

OK! Taking what you said as a reference, I imagine that (reader) is a Clawthrone, and that is precisely why she had access to a door that led to the human world.

(although this may only be an option because it is canon that there are not only witches on the boiling islands, but on other islands, so it will be more ambiguous from now on)

but in general (reader) she was something like a reject from magical society (probably for not wanting to join a coven, like a boss) and that's why she started using the door constantly.

because 1- she could get human products that helped her survive and 2- if they chased her for too long she would simply go to the human world for a while.

Fortunately her magical abilities were not affected by the new world, yes, she was weakened, but she was still strong.

Besides, it's pretty cool to be "interesting" in an unknown world when in the world where you're known you're a juvenile delinquent or...a nobody...

Although in general I think that (reader) would end up staying for an indefinite period of time in the human world living as a vagabond precisely because they wanted to force her into a coven.

So now she's in the human world trying to adapt.

In general (reader) only used her magic if a quick escape was necessary or, even if she knew it wasn't the best idea, when there was a human-related emergency.

Let's say that (reader) realized that there was something strange with the country she was in...something familiar but at the same time VERY dangerous...

That's how Yaga found her.

He had followed several reports about a mysterious woman who used "magic" to prevent incidents, heal injuries, even fly on a kind of stick (Palisman).

At first Yaga thought it was simply an unidentified or unlicensed sorcerer, but she realized very soon that (reader) really didn't exist anywhere, no matter where she looked, there was nothing about her.

Besides, the way she used her "magic"...was definitely not sorcery. He had to know what it was.

It would probably take Yaga a little while to get (reader) to trust him, he probably lost her the first few times he caught her, but the more they interacted the more (reader) gave in.

and eventually decided to learn "sorcery" from those of the human kingdom.

(Let's say that Yaga was scared when she saw the living conditions she had (reader), even if she told her that it was fine like this and that it was only temporary, that only made her grab her pointy ears and give her a lecture about hygiene😅)

Yaga tries to learn as much as she can about (reader's) magic before sending her to the academy, to see what things can adapt to her fighting style and what can't.

there is a lot of trial and error😅

But is it worth it.

(reader) still uses mainly the fighting techniques of a person from the Boiling Islands (a witch) but now she also knows the basics of sorcery, so she will be able to easily pass the entry topics.

Now, when she knows the group she was assigned to, I'm not going to lie...

They laughed in his face.

Although well, she doesn't blame them, if she hadn't had the door and had visited the human world several times before, she wouldn't believe any of this either, but she definitely got quite angry with that reaction.

to the point where he did a spell in which he made plants grow on their heads... and maybe some abobinables...

It wasn't until Yaga arrived that things calmed down and were better explained.

Gojo was the first to laugh.

although also the first to get confused.

yeah, right, like those things happen-- and before he knew it his seat was being lifted by some kind of...purple golem??

OKEY WTF

Geto doesn't want to laugh. oh really.

but you can't really ask him to take this seriously.

although he is definitely surprised when out of nowhere he gets trapped in a vine that appeared OUT OF NOWHERE in the living room.

When Yaga explains the situation, that (reader) is not lying and that she really comes from another realm, they demand to see the portal. There has to be proof...

and when they take a look at the world of the boiling islands...Bonesburg (they had to pinch each other to know that this was real and not a collective hallucination)..well, they definitely believe him now.

Although definitely when they return to class they feel a little bad for having laughed at her in her face, so they try to ask her things about her.

It definitely doesn't work at first, but little by little you can see that (the reader) is losing her bitterness.

Both Geto and Gojo try to help (reader) adapt to a "more normal" school environment where doors don't bite you and your locker doesn't eat your books.

Speaking of which, they are quite curious about the "cultural differences" between worlds.

Gojo definitely wants to get on a flying boat. or see the giant skeleton that the boiling islands are on (although Geto questions how hygienic that is).

Imagine the reactions of both when they find out that the Giraffes are from the Boiling Islands but that they were banished by the ancestors of the witches 🤣

or that opossums are considered myths and not real! (reader) definitely goes crazy when she sees a real one.

Geto LOVES (reader's) Palisman, plus he seems to gravitate toward the natural one when he's feeling sad :')

Geto definitely wants to know how (reader's) magic works on a technical level (I don't think he can use glyphs, but maybe adapt some of the reader's moves into his fighting style).

Gojo wants to learn to do poses solely and exclusively for PRANKS, fortunately Geto avoids this.

Geto is more interested in the culture of the islands, more than anything when they both learn about the "coven system" of this "Emperor Belos" and why (the reader) did not want one despite it being dictated by law.

Let's say they understand it.

Geto strongly suspects that more than a security measure, it is more a way to limit power, which he can tell with certainty from (the reader's) level of strength even when weakened.

Speaking of which, they both have a difficult time with (female reader) at first.

whether due to illusions, unwindings, roots, etc.

All this without mentioning fireballs or snow coming in all directions or large constructions that look like something out of Fullmetal Alchemist.

the three of them flying! Geto in the rainbow dragons, (reader) with his Palisman and Gojo with his infinity.

If things end well (with Geto not turning evil, Amanai still alive, etc.) they are like a chaotic trio.

I highly doubt that island magic can be taught in the human world without glyphs, but it can definitely be taught as I mentioned before, by adapting movements.

Geto still has a great friendship with (reader)'s Palisman! and it makes him happy to know that the little friend will easily live longer than him :,)

Gojo is somewhat jealous of the Palisman, it seems like they compete for the attention of their partners and Satoru definitely LEGITIMATELY says that the Palisman blames him for things (sometimes yes, sometimes not).

Although I think they would both protect the palisman with their lives.

They are affectionate couples, and I think that together they manage to empathize better with (reader).

especially if you are homesick.

so they could take a vacation getaway to the boiling islands!

and it's actually pretty fun.

Gojo doesn't stand out in the slightest for once in his life and it's a little strange at first, but he gets it after 15 minutes on the busiest street.

Geto and Gojo now understand (reader's) strange tastes in food. Do you have anything to eat here that doesn't have eyes?...or guts?

They go to places of historical importance to understand a little about the culture of the islands, they avoid scammers, they go to eat somewhere that has food that Suguru and Satoru can digest, they avoid more scammers, they see the emperor's palace from afar, etc. .

(aunaue definitely seeing the place gave them BAD YIKES)

BOTH ALMOST DIE FROM BOILING RAIN, or when Gojo wanted to dive into the water without knowing it was also hot😭

IMAGINE GIVING THEM A PALISMAAAAAAAAN

They would both appreciate it FOR LIFE.

In general, these types of experiences help them to better understand each other mutually. and it also happens the other way around.

They have gone several times to the Thousand Red Doors with (reader), who, being (reader) wanted to go through ALL

They saw the old Buddhist temples, the trails, some mountains.

Although the cherry trees are definitely the best, especially when the three of them are alone and (the reader) uses magic to make the trees even brighter and more beautiful.

definitely a beautiful view...

In general, they appreciate the literally otherworldly beauty of their partner, they really love how unique she is and they wouldn't really change anything about her.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

I don't like writing for SatoSugu THAT much, but this was fun🥰

#headcanons #fem reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #satosugu #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto x reader #the owl house #toh

[ushijimaschubbs]

"are you really sure you'll pass this test?", samu stared at you waiting for you to answer while you were chewing on your pen instead of solving the equation right in front of you.

"listen, I'm trying. it's hard. i understand the concept I just have no motivation to keep going on its boring and annoying and I just wanna get it over with!" you replied before resting your head on samu's study table. samu knew you were trying, you're good at almost all subjects, even basic mathematics is fine but statistics is something that even he struggled with but if you end up failing this exam you'll be done for and you'll be held back this semester. which is why he decided to tutor you over the weekend after he saw you sobbing in your dorm. he's been friends with you for a pretty long time but he's never seen you cry over academics. you're not the brightest student yet you end up getting good enough marks everytime.

"fine then let's make a deal. if you end up finishing this module by tonight I'll make your favourite dish tonight and I'll also pack it up for you so you can have it later" he said as he pulled your chair closer to his. you were real close to his face this time. samu smelled like heaven, he was a guy very particular about his hygiene which he learned a hard way when he got rejected last time because a girl said he smelled like rotten meat. since then everytime you've been next to him he's smelled like a garden and it's gotten you a bit horny you won't lie. you held back a smile when samu had pulled you towards himself you were still very close to his face and lost in thoughts when he poked your forehead so that you pay attention.

"sounds tempting I'll give it a try ONLY if you promise to also make my favourite dessert", you replied as you shifted a bit back, resting your head on samu's gaming chair. he gave you that to sit on so that you study comfortably.

"done. I'll go prepare the food and you finish the rest of the sums. and remember if it's not done then no favourite food tonight", he smiled and gave you a kiss on top of your head as he left.

Osamu Miya was a huge guy and everyone knew that. Before you had become friends with him he was actually your party crush as in everytime you were attending a party on campus he was the one you looked for since he was always there at some or the other party. He is tall, broad, had an athlete's built and you had just gotten out of a relationship so hooking up with him seemed like the only idea you had in mind that was until you came to know he has a girlfriend. You did end up becoming friends with samu tho but maybe that little crush you had on him never fully left and you were always reminded of that while you were around him.

after an hour samu entered the room to check up on you but he couldn't find you in the room so he started calling out your name throughout the house. he was relieved when you told him you're in the bathroom taking a quick shower as you felt really sleepy and maybe cold water would help with that. while you were showering your clothes that were hanging on the hook fell directly into the tub, your literally only pair of clean clothes that you had here. you called out samu's name and asked him to bring you any clothes he could find. now you're a not skinny, nowhere near skinny but osamu was huge enough for his clothes to fit you so the tshirt wasn't an issue at all. it was the shorts that wouldn't go up your hips. you gave up after a while and decided to spend the rest of the time there in your panties and his oversized tshirt.

"hey look i finished cooki-" samu looked you up and down, his eyes huge as if they were gonna pop out of the sockets anytime soon now. "wow uhh wow uhhh" he was trying to find words but he couldn't.

"will you finish the sentence lol" you smirked as you took the plate from him and headed towards the room. "come inside we have to finish the syllabus remember?"

samu followed you trying his very best to keep his eyes up but he couldn't help but take a sneak every few seconds at your plush thighs.

"i finished half of it I'll do the rest later" you said while you were eating, focused on your food completely unaware that samu was now fully hard and trying to keep that hidden from you by covering it up with a pillow. with every passing second it just kept getting worse for him, he was struggling pushing the pillow down but it kept popping up. you were immersed in the amazing food though so you hardly noticed.

"samu this is so good this is like a a lot better than the last time you made it did you change something in the recipe?", you just finished munching and looked up to see samu's face red and a pillow between his legs. "are you okay? do you have a fever samu?", you asked him, interfering his wild train of thoughts. samu never said it out loud but he had started liking you the day y'all became friends. your cute smile, your loud laughs, your pretty hair, your gorgeous eyes had all turned him crazy for you. he couldn't help but go on and on and on about it to tsumu everytime he came home after meeting you. this is also why he had wanted to tutor you as he thought you'd spend a lot more time together.

"oh yeah dw I'm fine", too distracted by you samu removed his hand from the pillow which sprung up and fell down, your jaw was on the floor now you had never gasped this way ever in your life.

"samu what"

"listen oh fuck", he stood up and ran towards the washroom. you followed him immediately,he was locked inside. you knocked on the door and called out his name but he just wouldn't budge.

"FINE I'LL THROW THE FOOD AND FAIL TOMORROW'S EXAM", you shouted hoping he'd come out now. it worked, he was out in a sec.

"why are you hard as a cactus samu"

"uhh idk morning wood ig"

"samu it's 4pm. what morning wood......"

"fine it's you. it's your gorgeous thighs and the fact that you're wearing my oversized tshirt and also i guess you're not wearing a bra", he said mumbling the last few words.

"do you like me or is it just because you're seeing me like this and I'm just any girl"

"well yeah I've liked you for a while"

samu was red, he was embarrassed and ashamed and a million thoughts were running in his mind. now that he had told you that he likes you would you not talk to him, how would you react etc etc but you did something he didn't expect. you tiptoed, put your arms around his neck and kissed him. he was surprised for a second but then he held your waist and kissed you back. his hands wandering around your waist, sliding down to your ass groping you. then he slid his hand up your shirt to grab your boobs. you could feel his cock throbbing against you. he picked you up and took you inside his room and gently placed you on the bed, kissing your neck and caressing your thighs. you flipped him over.

"let me take care of you samu" you said before you got on your knees at the end of the bed and pulled his shorts down revealing his big throbbing cock leaking precum. you'd never had someone as big as him before. you swirled your tounge around his tip as you pumped his shaft.

"fuck y/n please you're driving me crazy", he said as he threw his head back.

you continued to stroke his cock with your hands while sucking on his balls as he grunted in pleasure, stiffling a moan but a quick lick against his shaft made him moan loud enough. samu was desperate to cum and he was already close as he had fantasized about this day for years now and now he's finally had it, his long throbbing length deep inside your mouth with your plump lips around them. you started opening your tshirt and watched samu gape at your tits and even before he could register it you put his cock in between your tits pumping him up and down while you licked his red plump tip occasionally. samu couldn't hold it in any longer and released his thick cum in spurts all over your face. he sat back trying to catch his breath while you got up and snuggled beside him.

"i like you too you know"

#osamu chubby reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu x plus size reader #haikyuu chubby hcs #osamu x reader #miya osamu #miya twins #osamu miya #haikyuu plus size #haikyuu links #friends #friends to lovers #friends to more #smut #haikyuu smut #sex with miya osamu what else OMG #haikyuu reader angst #haikyuu reader #haikyuu #raywrites💗 #haikyuu dumpster battle #haikyuu the dumpster battle #the dumpster battle #dumpster battle

[cheshire-silent-cat]

A Pirate’s married life

Jun Guevara x female! Reader

Author note: this is just fluff, I’ll go back to nsfw soon but for now enjoy this cute dynamic between you two. I hope you enjoy this really short story and please leave your comments and requests I’m open to them all.

***************story begins here************

As soon as you and Guevara start living together as a married couple a lot of things in his life will need adjusting, some against his will, some he doesn’t really mind but ultimately he is trying his best to be the perfect husband for you so as long as it makes his love happy he would do it.

* The first and most important thing is redecorating, although guevara lives a very humble life giving a majority of his earning back to the community his home still looks like a tree house before you. This man had no time for colour coordination and he did not care if his interior looked good because until now he spent the majority of his time out on the sea. But to put it simply almost every aspect of his home was dark Oakwood brown, the ceiling, walls and floor seemed to match, and all the colours of the furniture clashed (green, red, blue, basically anything he looked at and bought for the sake of it).

Once you got his permission you got rid of almost everything in the house leaving the floors as the colour they were, then painting the ceilings white and the walls light grey, even though he wouldn’t boldly admit it he loved the change but he loved working with you to paint and redecorate even more, the furnitures now matched the colours of the ceiling and floor blending well with the environment.

Installing the furnitures took forever because your husband’s large hands prevented him from twisting smaller knots so you had to do it while he watched and then lifted the heavy object sometimes showing off by doing some bicep curls with the objects and winking at you or just lifting you and the object at the same time, it made no difference to him cause he always got a cute giggle out of you.

* The next thing you worked on was comfort, Guevara being a man of the sea was used to sleeping on a hammock without any sheets or anything bothersome for him to tidy up later, his room was quite empty because he was a busy man, switching to a Bed was a no brainier, the issue was finding a big enough bed for him that was also very sturdy for his body weight and when he wanted to have fun with his wife. Guevara might be busy and humble but you were built for the budgeting life so when you saw the prices of some of the beds you both decided to just build your own.

Well he fully intended to help but his big hands put him in the position of muscle, overall he was very impressed with your work, he had no idea your grandfather used to be a carpenter, and you had learned from him so much so that you had engraved carvings on the headboard to keep the bed interesting, and even though Guevara protested about getting the bed the loudest he ended up being the one that slept in it the most, his constant excuse being “well I can’t just let the hard work of my wife go to waste, I’m a good hubby” to which you always rolled your eyes before cuddling with him.

* Another thing you got to was hygiene, we have already emphasised how busy your husband is, being a very important figure in your community, he never had time for change and barely had time for himself, which is on if the reasons why he has always wanted a housewife, sure he is the type of man to obey his wife like a lost puppy led by a string, he is also the type of man that values housework never making the mistake of underestimating his much work goes into the maintenance of a home, he is grateful for you, all your actions makes him want to take care of you so well, spoil you rotten, I mean you have important duties in the community that come with being his wife (making you a half housewife) but you never failed to serve him freshly made breakfast in the morning before work, “Is this freshly squeezed…..where do you get the time to be such an amazing wife” he dotes “bye honey” you said kissing him and then walking out of the door.

What he wasn’t grateful for was you throwing his half dead toothbrush into a black bag you held like a beach cleaner, “ugh so much junk” you moaned getting tired of finding new things to throw out “hey, no I don’t like this” he protested but you did not listen, bending down to clear the cabinet, “I do love the view though” he chuckled, relaxing into the door frame. You threw the bag out with no mercy, cleaning the bathroom like it had been dirty in the first place, then you brought in a new bag organising new essentials that made Guevara nervous, a stack of white clean towels with face towels on the top, 2 toothbrushes and a ceramic toothbrush holder that cutely showed off your marital status, some small decor in the bathroom, cleaning essential for the cabinet under the sink, new soap, soap holder and even better quality sponges. “You are enjoying this aren’t you” he scoffed, “can you tell” you answered sarcastically, letting him kiss your hand, he has to admit your prepared state was very attractive.

* “I’m so bored” Guevara whined as you stared at the blue wardrobe in your room, opening it “no wait-“ an avalanche of clothes buried you, you quickly swam out, pulling out the rest of the clothes, he helped you move the wardrobe out of the house, installing a new one, same size, more organised compartments, better long lasting wood quality and a better design compared to the old one. “Since you are bored come and help me fold these clothes” you said patting the floor next to you from where you sat.

Out of everything he did with you to adjust to the married life, this has to be his favourite, just sitting close to you, folding clothes and talking about nothing that mattered that much, laughing with each other and sometimes stopping to play fight, even if the process of organising your shared wardrobe took forever and a part of the two of you wishes it could be like that forever.

* You both finally finished and looking at the final results Guevara would be the biggest liar on earth if he dude say he was happy with the results, wrapping his big arms around you he kissed your forehead “I’m so glad we did this, I love you so much” he said in his corny Casanova voice, if made you giggle a bit before facing him, a mischievous grin plastered across your face, you placed your hand on his shoulders looking into his handsome eyes “I love you too honey…..but what do you mean we, techno this was me, how ever I do have something for you to do” you said holding him by the wrist and leading him to the backyard.

“Babyyyyy I don’t want to do this” Guevara whined, looking to you for mercy, “if you be a big boy I’ll get you a toy, do you want a toy” you teased sarcastically sipping apple juice with a straw as you watched him. Placing his large masculine hands on the mower he pulled the string to get it started and began to drag it along the grass, a chore that he had been putting off since you both had been dating, you had begged him to just do it claiming that you couldn’t grow flowers in such a messy place only to recieve bouquets after bouquets of flowers, but at least now he was doing it and he was so focused about it to and you could have sworn that he kept glancing at you searching for a gaze of approval from your part, once done he dramatically laid on the floor acting as though he had just solved world hunger, in these small ways he was such a big baby, you walked over to him as he sat up, handing him a cold glass of juice and kissing his forehead, “so I did that good huh?” He asked teasing you, “yes you did, in fact you did so good I got you a toy after all” pointing in the far distance, Guevara stood up to look around, finding his precious hammock installed between two palm trees in his garden, with a hand knitted pillow adorning its comfy cozy beauty, overjoyed Guevara grabs a hold of you dipping you and placing a deep long kiss on your lips, he didn’t care who say because at the end of the day your husband was the type of man that expressed a lot of pda as much as he damn well pleased.

#baki son of ogre #baki fanfic #baki x reader #baki x y/n #jun guevara #jun guevara x reader #baki hanma #biscuit oliva #number two #yujiro hanma #hanma x reader #hot muscles #hotmen

[jamiesfootball]

Moe stared face to face with the one-eyed rat and contemplated the unfairness of a society wherein your existence relied on caveats.

Sure it’s a rat, but this one’s nice.

Sure it’s a rat, but this one lives indoors all the time and never interferes with anyone else.

Sure it’s a rat, but have you ever considered it has rat friends who really love it?

Keeping it indoors must really help with overpopulation.

No one wanted rats, not really.

Sure, the rights of rats had never been more boldly understood. They were pets like any other, and the people who had them cared for them the same way you would any other pets. But there was a difference between a pet rat, one that lived in a family, and a non-domesticated rat, one that roamed the streets without any intention of settling down.

The metaphor may have gotten away from him.

That was fine.

This rat technically had both its eyes, but the right one was milked over. The presence of functional without any of the appearance. A portion of the world obscured, extra effort needed to make sense of it.

Moe stared face to face with the one-eyed rat and wondered if any of its little rat friends ever conflated something missing with something wrong.

The lads were talking about the Bantr promo ads.

Or they had been, but now the lads were talking about girls.

Used to be that if the topic of girls came up, Moe could rely on Colin to shift the subject, always interrupting the flow of conversation to ask if someone had a comb or some socks or a can of Lynx he could borrow.

After years of being a professional footballer, he should really have basic hygiene dialed in by now, but that was Colin for you.

Also used to be that if it weren’t Colin, Jamie would inevitably derail the conversation. Moe wasn’t sure if it was missing socialisation cues or problems with learning socialisation in general, but Jamie had missed the usual lessons that girls were a topic ‘men’ should enjoy discussing, and were therefore worth discussing for all of the some time until Moe wanted to put his head through a wall.

Used to be that you couldn’t pay Jamie to stay on topic. 

One second it was girls, then it was the girls on Lust Conquers All, then it was lads on Lust Conquers All, then it was breakfast-themed alcoholic beverages, then breakfast cereals, then some new snack he’d seen when he was getting petrol and had anyone else tried it yet, then it was what kind of fabrics everyone preferred in their cars, then he was off on whether or not he should get tested for allergies because after he’d switched to a new detergent, his sheets were making him itchy.

That had been the time Moe insisted on helping him test for bed bugs. Jamie had taken him up on his answer because as insensible as he could be, he took hygiene seriously, and also because Isaac had threatened to kick him out of the dressing room forever if it turned out Jamie was infected with tiny creepy crawlies.

As soon as they arrived at Jamie’s house, Big Ben – a fat orange cat with a grumpy face and a Gucci collar – came up to say hello, yowling in their faces until Jamie bent down to give him ear scratches.

Both cat and owner followed Moe room to room. Moe diligently laid down the test strips while Big Ben twined around his legs. Jamie talked his ear off about Jurgen Klopp’s Gegenpress tactics and whether it was a strategy Ted might be open to trying.

(He even pronounced all the words correctly; he must really be serious.)

That was the other thing he’d noticed lately – it used to be that no conversation left around Jamie could go long without returning to football. When they’d signed Zava, Isaac had actually called a team-minus-Jamie meeting to discuss how best to prevent Jamie from cornering the legend himself with aggressively pointed questions about obscure matches no one remembered.

To Moe’s knowledge, that hadn’t happened yet. Without being asked, Jamie respected Zava’s space far more than he respected anyone else’s, and he hadn’t gone on a proper football rant in a while.

Now it spewed out of him like a dam unleashed.

Equally demanding of attention was Big Ben, who threw himself at Moe’s feet with his paws curled up in front of his chest in a false act of supplication that Moe wasn’t going to fall for. 

When Moe stepped around him, the cat repeated the gesture, adding a plaintive mewl for good measure. After his third attempt at gaining Moe’s attention, Jamie scooped the cat up – an impressive feat, considering it was the size of a small blimp.

Jamie cooed at the gargantuan ball of hair, “Cut that out. He’s trying to help us out, King.”

The cat purred in contentment, already satisfied.

That was the difference between cats and rats. The cat could have what it wanted, because its needs were understood.

A big acceptable tomcat; a man amongst men.

A man, full stop.

In the end, Jamie didn’t have bedbugs. Just delicate skin and bad taste in overpriced household products.

After educating Jamie on how the phosphates found in laundry detergent had devastated oceanic ecosystems around the globe, Jamie and his cat solemnly promised to look up Moe’s recommendations. Both wore matching, befuddled expressions and a sort of distracted interest, as if Moe was a creature that, once gone, would cease to be more than a novelty. A one-time interruption in a life that would spin rather much the same once he was gone as it had before he arrived.

Or he’d let the metaphor get away from him again.

That was fine.

Moe went home.

Remy had a cage for when Moe was away. The first thing he did whenever he returned was open the door to his rat’s home. Together they roamed the flat, clueless in communication but free to do whatever they wanted.

What Remy wanted to do the most was curl up on Moe’s shoulder, making a nest between him and the couch cushions while he dozed into a peaceful rat nap.

Moe might not matter to the world, but Remy mattered to Moe.

With Remy for company, Moe had everything he wanted.

No one’s making the rat participate.

In no way was Bantr a worse option as a sponsor than Cerithium Oil. Not in a million years. The damage Cerithium Oil had done to the planet would stretch on forever – there would never again be people in the world not affected by their disregard.

But at least Cerithium Oil had never given a damn whether Moe Bumbercatch was ‘single.’

He hadn’t wanted to be a part of the new Bantr promo in the first place, but group advertising didn’t work on an opt-in basis. Everyone at the club did their bit knowing that somewhere down the line someone else would do the same for them. The team relied on each other that way. For every Sam Obisanya and Dani Rojas and Jamie Tartt who racked in money for the children at the annual gala, there were a dozen smaller PR stunts that could be handled by one of the any-players.

Moe didn’t mind being one of the any-players. What he minded was the arbitrary nature by which his participation had been decided. He disliked the sensation of being ‘singled’ out.

Moe put up with dozens of small slights every day.

Like the ‘mens’ label on the toilets by the dressing room, even though they were the only team that used this part of the stadium and therefore had no reason for the specificity. The culturally acceptable amount of sexual innuendos surrounding men’s fitness whenever it came time to do interviews. Team movie night, which purported to be about emotional release but usually revolved around rom-coms or media geared towards children (many of which also featured romance.) Most days these weren’t more than a prick against the skin, a bristle of discomfort that lingered more in memory than in lasting hurt.

Richmond was a good club, with a disproportionate amount of good people and a host of benefits to make up for it. 

One of said benefits of Richmond: the talk around the dressing rooms tended to be more palatable than what he’d dealt with in past dressing rooms.

How unfortunate that past performance was not an indicator of future results.

Zoreaux held up his hands to fend off the jeering. “All I’m saying is that when this shirt comes off? There’s no need for words. I let my body do the talking.”

He invited booing, really. Only Dani approved, nodding sagely as if this was great advice (which made a certain amount of sense; Moe couldn’t imagine any advice would make Dani less successful at winning people over.)

Once towels had been thrown and collected, the attention turned to the next victim in line.

Isaac elbowed Colin. “How about you? What’s your pitch for getting a woman to stick out a date after she’s taken a spin in your car?”

Colin took the good-natured jab with a corner kick smile. “Keep it simple. Go for drinks, catch a film, and if the movie sucks, I’ll pay for your Uber home.”

This was treated to a round of chuckles and a few outcries of ‘lame!’

Personally, Moe appreciated his teammate’s brand of dry self-deprecation. Colin gave off the sense that he was someone who knew himself well enough to make a joke of it—a quality Moe certainly couldn’t say he’d cultivated.

Hard to cultivate in sand when you were meant to have soil.

“Hey Jamie, what about you?” Colin asked, making a grabby motion towards the Lynx cupboard. “Did you think of something to say for the ads? Or are you just going to take your shirt off?”

A can of Lynx was tossed across the room with little regard to aim. Colin fumbled the catch. 

Languid with his knees pulled up on the bench, Jamie’s smirk did nothing to dissuade Moe’s notion that he was a large, acceptable feline in his natural habitat. That said, his answer came surprisingly devoid of the self-congratulatory manner with which they were all accustomed.

“Date’s not about me, is it?” he said simply. “I’m not doing it for me. I’m just there to show her a good time.”

Some thoughtful hums and considering ‘good points’ went up around the room. Personally Moe thought that sounded lonely. His own experiences in dating were limited, but he was pretty sure that fun was the point.

Hence why he’d stopped doing it.

As if sensing his dissatisfaction, Jamie narrowed in on him. “Moe, how about you? What wisdom are you bringing to the women of Bantr?”

Sometimes, he had to remind himself that he was used to slights.

Moe shrugged into his jacket. “Haven’t decided.”

Some of the joking demeanour slid off Jamie’s shoulders. His uneven eyebrows puckered together, the slit on the right making the effect of his expression more severe.  “What d’you mean you haven’t decided? We film tomorrow.”

“Means I haven’t decided on anything I want to say to help our corporate overlords squeeze more money out of our increasingly impoverished society.”

“Ah, we can help you figure something out!” Dani offered. He seemed excited by the prospect. “What do you like to do on dates?”

A tingling sensation spread into his hands. “I don’t like dates.”

Colin tried to share a smile with him. “Too capitalist for you, boyo?”

“Who the fuck doesn’t like dates?” asked Zoreaux, perplexed and usually kind and now-

Moe sidestepped the scrutiny. “It doesn’t matter, because we’re not looking for real dates. We’re just selling the idea that we could be looking for dates. It’s an illusion.”

“He’s right,” Colin added. Heads swivelled his way. “It’s not real. If one of us was seeing someone, this wouldn’t even be considered cheating. It’s just doing a job.”

Moe raised an eyebrow; Colin was hardly someone he’d describe as cynical, but that response was practically dripping with- with-

With something he couldn’t place. He’d come back to it later.

“Is that the problem then?” Goodman asked, throwing an arm around Moe’s shoulders. He sounded positively chuffed. “Finally found someone and you don’t want to share?”

“No.”

“Ooh, I think we hit a nerve,” O’Brien chortled.

Moe pushed Goodman’s arm away. “Sure did.”

Once again, Jamie’s confusion was a mirror image of his cluelessness kitty cat’s when Moe refused to follow the script. “Hey, man, we were just messing around.”

He reminded himself that the slights didn’t matter, because it wasn’t like he’d told anyone that he was being slighted.

He also reminded himself that the rat can do whatever it wants.

Because Moe didn’t want to make an exception of himself. He didn’t want an exceptional place, a place he carried around with him where people would edit their words in his presence and continue unfiltered the moment he left. He wanted a life free of caveats. A normal life, in a normal place. He wanted the place he was already in to not have been de facto claimed by the majority. He didn’t want to speak up only to defend himself against accusations that he was spoiling their fun; he just wanted somewhere where his inclusion could be felt without the stinging sensation that he was being patronised – that the world had built around him a pocket, instead of letting him choose to crawl inside.

He wanted to be more than a rat in a pocket.

The rat wanted a home too.

He fled the dressing room.

Call that rat behaviour.

The way Moe figured it, he’d developed an aura of mystery enough that his exit would either be seen with a classy amount of intrigue or with a neon sign glaring on his back. There was no in-between.

“Moe, wait up!”

The approaching canter of Jamie indicated that the answer lay towards the option cast in a garish light.

Jamie slowed to an awkward stop. “Hey, man.”

Some hits happened so often he hardly noticed anymore; today wasn’t one of those days.

“Sorry if we were prying too much. Didn’t mean anything by it you know,” Jamie explained, in a tone so sharpened with sincerity and glass that it pierced Moe sharply between his ribs.

He liked Jamie, really. He loved everybody on the team. It was the world he didn’t like, and hardly their fault that the world extended beyond what their eyes could see.

“Yeah, I get that,” he sighed. His hands still felt tingly, and he pinched his nose. “Just not up for it today, alright?” Or any day.

Jamie bobbed his head in agreement – only to stop suddenly, his head tilting as he studied Moe. With growing wariness, Moe watched his hands slip under the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric around his fist. It was a motion Moe had caught himself mirroring a few times, usually when he needed a little extra oomph to push through some discomfort.

Anxiety creeped into his chest.

With entirely too much focus, Jamie spoke carefully, “I’m just saying, it’s none of our business if you’re seeing a girl. Or anyone.”

He added the last bit in a hushed voice.

The missile missed its target by miles. Nevertheless, Moe felt dizzy from how close it’d come to contact.

“No,” he answered. Because what?

The confused tomcat expression returned to Jamie’s face. Without giving Moe a second to catch up, he changed topics completely.

“You know those two girls Dani was seeing?”

Moe nodded, feeling very much like a trap was being laid before him.

Jamie bounced on his toes, full of nervous energy as his eyes flitted around. “And you know he’s still seeing them, yeah? Like, the three of them are still together.”

Moe did not know that. Why just that morning, Dani had leaned up against Zoreaux, phone in hand, bemoaning how much more successfully his friend’s Bantr profile attracted matches (an opinion that only belonged to Dani.)

Jamie shrugged. “Just saying, we already got an extra non-single guy signed up. Seems fair then that one of the single guys should get to sit this one out.”

If he was dizzy before, now he found himself fighting back a wave of nausea. For someone swatting through the dark, Jamie had gotten remarkably close at hitting the heart of the matter.

Heart cowering in his throat, he let the tail of the truth slip loose:

“Not single.”

For once, Jamie didn’t press. He went unusually still, and he blinked slowly at Moe like-

The fuck, was he intentionally copying his cat?

Moe sighed. His own hands fisted into the front of his shirt, where they could tremble instead of his voice. “Single implies the existence of a double. Or a triple. Or any further number of consenting adults, I presume.” He shrugged. “Point is I don’t see myself like that.”

It was the closest he’d ever come to wriggling into the light.

“Oh,” Jamie said, an odd hint of wonder slipping under his tone.

Moe looked at him.

Really looked.

Beneath Jamie’s shocked expression, something understanding crawled beneath the floorboards.

The rat stared back at the cat, confused at how the trap had snapped on them both.

The cat stared back, perhaps not even realising they were stuck in a trap.

Perhaps in looking for a mirror, he’d ignored any signs of familiarity.

Moe found himself saying, “You know that time we all went to that pet sanctuary? When Isaac got Bun-Bun?”

“When Sam got tricked into getting two snakes?”

Moe nodded. “I went back later and adopted a rat.”

Jamie perked up, tossing contemplation and personal space aside in favour of crowding up close like he intended to twine himself around Moe’s legs. “Can I see it?”

Moe retreated. “I don’t have it on me?”

“No shit.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “But you got pictures, don’t you?”

He said it with the self-assurance of someone who believed that taking thousands of photos of your pets every day was normal activity.

Moe shrugged and took out his phone. He did take a lot of pictures.

Heart in hand, he showed Jamie his phone. “This is Remy.”

In a remarkable display of restraint, Jamie lasted about five adorable rat photos before whipping out pictures of his cat.

One by one, the team filed out of the dressing room while Jamie sat next to him on a bench in the hallway, the two of them swiping through their favourite pictures. Jamie kept insisting he make Remy his own Insta so that he could show him off to the world.

Cat behaviour.

Isaac gave them an approving nod as he passed. Colin watched curiously but didn’t say anything. Goodman and O’Brien attempted some apologetic sign language, the success of which somehow captured the meaning, ‘Sorry for our impudence and thoughtlessness. Next team dinner, first round’s on us, yeah?’

That’s how you won rats over: you offered them cheese. You placated them with drinks. You won them over by dangling something they wanted in front of them, and then when they crawled out of hiding, you picked them up and held them to the light.

Jamie blew out a breath and flicked off his phone. “Alright. I better get going, or this one’s going to scratch my eyes out for dinner being late. How bout you and this ad then? If you want, I can tell them you couldn’t make it.”

Moe tested the light. “Depends on what kind of excuse you’re going to give.”

“Nothing, I suppose.” Jamie shrugged like it was that simple. “Unless you want me to?”

“Not really,” Moe confessed. “But they’ll probably ask anyway. Like it’s their business.”

“It is a business, mate,” Jamie pointed out – for a second time that day, one of Moe’s teammates demonstrating an uncharacteristic amount of cynicism. “How about….”

He chewed on his lip, feline attention turned to a rodent’s problem.

“…How about I tell ‘em you had a rat emergency?”

“A what?”

“It’ll confuse them, won’t it? ‘Cause no one knows what it means. Sounds exotic and shit. Could mean anything from ‘my rat’s escaped’ to ‘my rat’s got off it’s leash and into the petunias and it won’t come out’ to ‘my rat’s got a sexy photoshoot coming up and I need to knit him a tiny outfit.’” 

Sounded like a good life, the version Jamie made up in his head.

Then again, Moe had never had the opportunity to break out his size 14 knitting needles.

Jamie waited for his answer with all the eager impatience of a cat with its paws curled up against its chest. Attention-seeking behaviour. False supplication.

Something that had needs easier to understand, yet every bit as trapped in a cage.

Moe supposed you drew cats out the same way you would any creature. You offered them care, respect, affection when they needed it – space when they wanted it. You offered them freedom.

Maybe you offered to sit in the trap next to them, because it was unfair to make them do it alone.

The metaphor may have gotten away from him.

It really was fine.

“Might show up anyways. It’s for the team, isn’t it?” Moe decided. He nudged Jamie in the side. “Besides, this way if I change my mind halfway through, I can lie and say I need your help with the rat emergency.”

Never one to stay on topic, Jamie turned to Moe with bright eyes and asked, “Have you ever thought of dressing him up?”

“What? Remy?”

“Yeah! Saw this picture online the other day of a little rat dressed up for the tropics. It had sunglasses and a tiki cup, and it was chowing down on a peanut that barely fit in its hands. I’m telling you, you’ve never seen a rat so happy.”

Moe should not have expected better from someone who dressed his cat in Gucci.

But he didn’t hate the thought.

The rat was not alone.

#if this feels a little all over the place and rushed that's because it is! #i started this yesterday morning #I had to get it out of my brain so here we are #aromantic moe bumbercatch #aromantic jamie tartt #aromantic asexual agender moe bumbercatch #to be specific #the greater richmond pet acquisition #moe bumbercatch #jamie tartt #excessive metaphors about cats and rats #writing snippet #except it's the whole thing #ted lasso fic

[ambrosiagourmet]

Gimme a Kabru for the ask meme

Ahhhh hi I'm still doing this I will finish them let's go

Kabru!!

First impression

Once again gonna go for a pre-reading impression, bc honestly I really think the fandom osmosis impression I got was so off imho. So, Kabru first impression:

what if there was a hater. in the dungeon. :0

Impression now

I LOVE HIM... He's constantly agonizing over everything he does and the impact it could have and the big picture and its gonna burn him out completely someday if he doesn't slow down and realize he's allowed to live for himself sometimes. In a story chock full of survivor's guilt he is Mister Survivor's Guilt. He feels like he needs to do something to earn his existence, and that's such a heavy burden he has put on himself. Ough.

Favorite moment

There are a ton of little parts from the story that I love, but I actually want to highlight this bit from one of the Adventurer's Bible comics that lives with me:

I don't know, there's just something... something about it. Allowing Mithrun the privacy of his own story is such a strange kindness. Who else but Kabru could have thought to provide it?

Kabru, who wears Utaya across his shoulders everywhere he goes, but also never shares much about his mom, his food, the things he misses from Utaya. Or the superstitions about his eye color, and the ways that even the place he misses most wasn't always a kind home to him. Kabru, who has learned exactly how to cut up the piece of his own story in order to be able to hold the weight of them all and do the things he needs to do.

Kabru looks at Mithrun, someone who doesn't have the ability to care for himself, and provides this service to him. Offers him privacy. Privacy. The people around Mithrun have cared for him for years, but who has given him this?? Food, sleep, water, basic hygiene... but Mithrun deserves dignities beyond that too, even if he isn't able to ask for them.

And Kabru takes his eye for creating palatable stories, which he has often used to make himself fit in or force himself through unpleasant things, and uses it to help Mithrun in a way that no one else had.

Idea for a story

I don't have anything super specific here, just a GREAT DESIRE for post-canon Kabru stuff. I want to see him and Marcille become friends. I want to see him struggle to figure himself out now that his driving motive has been resolved. I want to see him forced to consider that he can't always do things for the Bigger Picture. I want to see how his relationships with his party members change. I want to see the adventures of the Laios - Marcille - Kabru trio. Pleaaaaaaase

Unpopular opinion

He's not just a hater in a dungeon.......

Like for sure his feelings about Laios are complicated and boy can they include Haterism, but also he is like the only person who vouches for Laios at certain points. Kabru intentionally chooses to have faith in him at several key moments, and the ending of the story hinges upon that faith.

I think he's got a very black and white way of looking at things sometimes, and he likes to be in control. This is where the haterism can come in.

BUT there's so much more than just that to him. Kabru is an extremely caring person in general. He notices details about people and often uses those observations to care for them - Mithrun in the example above, for instance, or the way that he thinks about how hard it would be for Rin to go back to the elves when considering whether to hand the dungeon over to them. He has a strong sense of justice. He is loyal to his promises.

I just wish those elements of his personality were given more significance in the fandom :/

Favorite relationship

Gotta go with him and Mithrun here. They bring out such interesting sides to each other. Some of my favorite moments are them surviving in the dungeon together, and of course that comic is one of my fave moments. The way Kabru understands him and continually chooses to use that understanding to provide kindness and support to Mithrun... it's good.

But also I think that Mithrun gets to a core part of Kabru that Kabru usually tries to keep hidden. Some part of the survivor's guilt, I think... the way Kabru is driven by a sense of obligation to a thing he Cannot Ever Bring Back.

They both pull something out of the other that no one else does, at least over the course of the story.

Favorite headcanon

Hmmmmm... does "he and Marcille will be besties someday" count? I think it counts. I love the idea of them being gossip-heads.

#ask #ask meme #I've got... two more of these left to do now. I will finish them. I WILL

[joshusten]

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown. 

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered. 

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society. 

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing. 

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!" 

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.  

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion.  He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain. 

“Faithful, what are you—” 

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot. 

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?” 

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!” 

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?” 

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!” 

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard. 

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again. 

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone. 

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

#good boy audios #gba albus #albus york #gba bastard warrior #gba faithful #gba fanfic #THIS TOOK WAY TOO LOOOOOONG BUT ITS FINISHED see you guys next year /j

[astrolavas]

I'm curious about the serious reasons behind the 13-in-1 shampoo/shower gel headcanon

okay, so 😭😭😭 basically it started as a "he uses a 13-in-1 shampoo/shower gel lol" because funny + hunter likes his efficiency after all and it's practical, and so we also had an "lmao do you think hunter's one of those ppl who don't wash their legs in the shower" discussion with some friends, but then it just kinda... evolved into more??? cuz like, the thing is that YEAH, he probably IS. because he's never been taught.

i've just been rly thinking abt how hunter most likely had to just… learn how to take care of himself all on his own. belos didn't care enough to teach him abt the basics of self-care and hygiene; he most likely taught him only abt things that'd affect his performance or how hunter's "perceived" plus he added some things that'd make him look like a Good Caring Uncle in hunter's eyes, the bare minimum; eat, train, shower, stand straight, etc.. but when it comes to things that were "not visible" to other coven members or even belos himself, he probably couldn't care less.

like, hunter likely had to figure out HOW to actually take care of himself all on his own. he had to teach HIMSELF how to clean himself, without any clear instructions, navigating solely by what seemed logical or right to him; couldn't even ask or base it off other coven scouts, since his interactions with them were limited. he was in charge of when he'd sleep, and that defo didn't do him any good. he had to learn how to treat wounds and patch himself up, because he most likely wasn't even rly allowed to use a healer's services; but at least he had books with... that information instead, i suppose. that's something. uh- he had to do all these things, all while overworking himself and doing everything in his power to make his "uncle" proud.

just……… post-coven hunter slowly realizing that the little things and habits he does and always thought were right and how things are "supposed" to be done… AREN'T actually right…… seeing how differently yet naturally others do their daily self-maintenance routines and realizing just how deeply belos' neglect and lack of care for his well-being really went, how much it affected everything in his life. h

like. imagining hexsquad casually discussing their random routines/habits/practices and hunter saying sth he thinks is right cuz like this IS how he's always done this, psh- of course it's right! but then finding out that's not how most ppl do this thing… realizing- and mostly just feeling so embarassed… cuz god how couldn't he have KNOWN that, it's so OBVIOUS to him now!!!! like, that obviously wasn't his fault and he'd TECHNICALLY know that but this would just be another thing that'd make him feel alienated, "wrong"; another thing that'd make others look at him weirdly, with that specific kind of concern, even if only for a split-second……. gah

so yeah, just... thinking abt the emotional (and physical) abuse that hunter had to go through, and how neglect was also definitely a big part of it. thinking of the embarrassment and humiliation that comes from "not knowing how to do things right" despite never having been TAUGHT these things, despite not being at fault here whatsoever. especially since hunter was additionally also expected to grow up quick, to basically ACT LIKE AN ADULT his entire childhood; to be mature, to even play a role of a caretaker to belos. he was surrounded by adults but he was left to figure out all these basic things on his own.

#i had this mostly written out already this is copied from The Discussion mostly 😭😭 #but yeahghhoughh hunter owlhouse... #there are just so many forms the abuse he went through took. it was definitely like VERY extensive. and i just h #nicole answers #Anonymous #my toh talk #hunter toh #almost started writing abt my hunter cooking skills/eating habits hcs too but that's a Different can of worms also so- not here not here

[st6rrrs]

TOM RIDDLE NSFW ALPHABET

i also posted this on a03 a while ago!!!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Tom can be quite rough during sex, he has a lot of aggression that releases during sex so he makes sure you're okay afterward. He doesn't mean to hurt you. He cleans you up after making a mess, he leaves kisses on all the areas he was the roughest(your ass mostly, he's really into spanking). He isn't always the most affectionate person in public but behind closed doors, he'll hold you and ask if you're okay. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He knows he is attractive and is very confident in himself. He has toned muscles but isn't bulky, he likes his forearms and his hands the most. He loves using his hands, he likes watching you squirm. He is definitely a tit man, but he adores your ass. A nonsexual part he loves is your neck, kissing and leaving hickeys are his foreplay. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Creampies. He loves finishing inside of you, it feels like he's marking his territory you're his. But he does switch it up sometimes, facials are also a favorite of his. He likes when you're on your knees in front of him, he likes feeling dominant. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you got together he used to watch you from afar, not on some Joe Goldberg shit though. He was very fascinated with you from the moment he saw you, he needed to know more about you. You aroused him just by breathing, he often thought about what it would be like to fuck you, all the things he would do to your body. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Tom is quite experienced, he had many sexual encounters before meeting you but none of them had feelings involved. When you got together he had to learn how to incorporate intimacy during sex. He immediately knew all the right places to touch you, learning your body was the easiest thing to do.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He's more of a missionary man but where you have your ass hanging off the bed and he's fucking you while standing, it gives him more control. He likes watching the pleasure on your face, he loves turning you into a complete wreck. Also, he loves how your tits bounce when he thrusts inside of you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tom's a pretty serious person so he isn't very humorous but he will chuckle when you look pathetic under his touch. 

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes a lot of pride in his looks and hygiene, he keeps everything neatly trimmed. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

At the beginning of the relationship, it was purely for sex. He wasn't too worried about romance he just wanted to get his rocks off. But as he started to fall for you he incorporated more romantic gestures. Like foreplay, going on dates, etc. In the moment he tries his best to make sure that you're enjoying yourself, he won't do anything you aren't comfortable with.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He has always been an active masturbater, even though he can have you whenever he wants he still masturbates. He thinks about all the times he's fucked you, all the places he's fucked you, the way you melt under him, just thinking about you makes him hard. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a few different kinks, he likes degradation, hair pulling, spanking, public sex, light bondage, and edging (he loves to hear you beg).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly, he'll fuck you anywhere and in front of everyone, he loves showing off what's his. Public bathrooms are always pretty accessible when you're feeling horny in public. At home, he likes taking you on the floor, the shower, the kitchen counter, and literally every room in the house. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You don't have to do much to arouse Tom, wearing a more revealing top can turn him on. Teasing him or making him upset makes him very horny, getting under his skin is the best way to get him into bed. 

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Tom is pretty open to most things but he really does like to stick to the normal things he likes. I don't think he would like being a sub though unless it was something you really wanted(plus I think he'd be afraid that he would like it.)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Tom doesn't mind blowjobs(he prefers to deepthroat you) he loves to eat you out. He's very skilled with his tongue, he knows the right pressure to put on your clit, fingering is also a must, and he loves hearing you moan.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

When you both first start having sex it's pretty slow and gentle, he likes working you into it. As time goes on, he gets pretty fast and rough. Being rough is a big turn-on for him, throwing you around in the bed a little bit really pushes him to the edge.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is always up for a quickie, especially since he knows how needy you can be. No matter if it's a quickie or not, you're having sex. Every. Day. He's also pretty busy sometimes so it helps him relieve stress.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As I said before, he's down to try anything that you want to do even though he likes to stick to what he knows he likes. Sometimes if he's feeling spontaneous he'll suggest you try something new.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

There's a two-round minimum every time you have sex. He can last up to 30 minutes a round, he's trained himself to last longer to please you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He definitely has a vibrator he uses on you when he really wants to see you get worked up. You know as soon as you see it, you're getting edged. Having control of your orgasm brings him pleasure. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

THE BIGGEST TEASE! Like I said he's really into edging/orgasm denial, making you beg for it by teasing your pussy with his dick, even in public he'll whisper in your ear the filthiest things and watch you try to stay calm. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When he's fucking you he can be pretty loud, he moans when he's deep inside of you. He's a big dirty talker, he calls you all sorts of names like slut, whore, bunny, etc. Not everything he says is degrading though, he loves telling you how good you feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's secretly always wanted to have a threesome but knows he would get too jealous and ruin it for you so he never says anything. 

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

He definitely has good length and girth, it's not too big to the point it hurts but it's big enough to stretch you out. For the rest of his body, he's very fit but not overly muscular. He's never really understood the desire to have big muscles. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man's sex drive is crazy. He doesn't really know how to deal with his emotions properly so it all goes into his sex drive.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Sex does relax him but unless you're fucking at night he won't fall asleep. After you two finish he'll cuddle with you until you fall asleep, sometimes it takes longer for him to go to sleep because he always has something on his mind.

#tom riddle #slytherin boys #smut #tom marvolo riddle

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…” 

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says. 

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

#sass writes #sevika x reader #fueled by the author's desire to be built like a mountain #but alas i am a twig #also i know jackshit about arm wrestling #don't use this as a guide on how to win at arm wrestling #smut will be coming in part two

[palesweetscherryblossom]

How platonic Yandere Overhaul gives affection

Considering that he’s a germaphobe, Kai wasn’t that affectionate with you when you were a baby.

He finds babies and toddlers gross, mostly due to their reputations for being messy and gross. If you tried crawling over to him or something, he’d gently shove you away with his foot or something.

He only really held you when it was necessary, not cause Kai wanted to. When you were more capable of understanding and could start developing your personality, Kai became slightly more affectionate.

Whenever you did something good or worthy in his eyes, he’d give you head pats or a nod of approval. You also learned from a very young age that cleanliness and good hygiene was something to stay on Kai’s good side.

Unlike most children who would lose their shit over cleaning up, you had no problem. In fact, you often did it in front of him, showing him that you weren’t nasty or anything.

It’s canon that Overhaul doesn’t touch or likes being touched by things he considers filthy or diseased. Once you hit the age of when your quirk was supposed to develop, Kai ran some tests on you. (In secret of course.)

It was basically a test, seeing if you were gonna be a disposable pawn or maybe an experiment.

You were quirkless, you were purity in its ultimate form. Kai was relieved and slowly began to slip into Platonic Yandere syndrome.

Kai became more okay with you touching him and him slowly itching into giving you affection. He let you hold his hand, if you wore gloves of course. (I personally think he just hates the feeling of being sweaty.) He’s now chill with you touching him, just don’t be too clingy.

#platonic yandere #child reader #yandere overhaul x reader

[clementine-writes-things]

~

My headcanons for Severus Snape aka my Pookie Bear Schnookums. (A lot of them)

Keep in mind these are just MY personal headcanons. You do not have to agree.

Read below the cut!

~

SFW:

- prefers fruit candies over chocolate, though he does like dark chocolate every now and then

- maintains a very organized hygiene routine and is the epitome of self-care (He brushes his teeth after every meal, flosses, showers every day, and even uses the occasional moisturizer. Taking care of himself does not make him less of a man.)

- one of his favorite past times is sitting with a book (specifically muggle books) by the fireplace in his personal quarters, especially on rainy days

- sleeps with lots of blankets and wears pajama pants to bed with a t shirt, but then complains how he is always hot at night (He never changes the sleeping pattern however. The warmth is comforting.)

- Has a soft spot for muggle music, sometimes he will go to a muggle record shop and buy some. (he fancies The Smiths, Fleetwood Mac, Nirvana, Radiohead, basically loves all music genres except country, he finds it annoying)

- visits his mother's grave as often as he can and tells her about his day, the good and the bad

- he became a teacher because he genuinely wanted to inform the youth, hoping to educate them for the future. He may be a cold man, but he isn't heartless.

- He doesn't have favorite students, he doesn't agree with that ideology. He may have 'least favorite students' but he would never choose a 'most favorite'. He does not like how Professor Slughorn has the 'Slug Club'.

- He actually deeply cared about Harry Potter, but was afraid to step into his life as he was scared something would happen to him like his parents, leaving Harry alone again.

- When he finds out a student has a learning disability or a personal issue, he will look into said issue and figure out how to help to the best of his ability.

- He cuts his own hair sometimes, but usually McGonagall will tidy it up.

- He hates bananas. There is no explanation, he just doesn't like them.

- If he sees a student being bullied, he intervenes instantly. He doesn't want to see another kid go through what he did.

- He is very close with McGonagall, but also, Hagrid. Sometimes he will go down to his hut and ask for some help gathering ingredients for potions (like venom, blood, essence, etc.),then he will make small talk and ask if there are any animals Hagrid is currently nurturing. Sometimes it will peak his interest.

- His favorite colors are purple and green, he likes how they look together.

- He ISN'T transphobic/homophobic. He is actually very accepting. He doesn't care about sexuality or identity, he just cares about who you are morally as a person.

- He smells like pine, eucalyptus, and spearmint constantly but, in the fall he smells of warm apple cider with a hint of clove.

- He brushes his hair a lot

- He has muggle clothing, but he never wears them on/near school grounds, god forbid a student sees him in casual wear.

- Sometimes he has a hard time getting out of bed in the morning. He will sit on his bed and practice breathing, calming his mind. He will make a mental list of things to do to 'get ready for the day'. Once the list is done, he feels a lot better.

- As previously hinted, he loves apple cider. He's practically obsessed with it. He only drinks it in the fall though. He thinks it makes it taste better. And he uses mulling spices with fresh apple juice, not fake stuff.

- During the holidays, he will always get a gift for every one of his staff members. If he overhears of a student going through a particularly bad time with their family or something of the like, he will get them one too. Not a huge gift, but something nice, like a box of sweets.

- He usually doesn't get many gifts during the holidays, only the occasional pair of mittens or new potion set. People think he isn't a materialistic person, which he isn't, but he wishes people would at least give a card. He never got presents growing up.

- He always has room for dessert after a meal

- His monotone voice is not from lack of interest, it's just his natural tone of voice. He hates it too, as it's one of the reasons he was bullied growing up.

- He doesn't smile much because he isn't sure when you should smile. He doesn't know when it's appropriate. So, instead, he'll give a little smirk or a chuckle. He's insecure of his smile as well.

- If he has a song stuck in his head, he'll tap his feet underneath his desk and hum along. He's very discreet about it though.

- One of his secret talents is playing guitars, he doesn't do it often, but he's actually good at it.

- He doesn't raise his voice much even when he's angry, because it reminds him of his father. He doesn't like yelling.

- His favorite flower is NOT A LILY! He actually really likes daisies and dandelions. People consider them to be "weeds" as they can take over people's lawns, but growing up he had a garden that his mother used to tend to. However, she let the grass and flowers around it turn into overgrowth. She took Severus out there one day to harvest some carrots, and he asked "Mom, why do you let all of the grass and weeds grow every where?" And she replied "Dear boy, there is no such thing as weeds. They are simply wild flowers that grow in unwanted places. All they want is to grow and to live. Just like us."

- He keeps/maintains a garden at his house in honor of his mother, and he let's the wildflowers take over.

- He has a guest bedroom, but no one ever visits him.

NSFW:

- He is definitely a top/dom, but he CAN be a sub. However, he doesn't find it as fun.

- He does not have that high of a sex drive. He doesn't NEED to have sex. If he fell in love with someone who didn't want to have sex that often, or even at all, he would be perfectly fine with that. Because sex doesn't define a real relationship. Love does.

- He has never and will never partake in looking at pornographic material. He finds it extremely uncomfortable and disgusting, especially how much of it is violence towards women. Also, he believes sexual relations like that should be private and intimate.

- He is very vocal in bed, as he wants his partner to know he is enjoying it as well.

- Always makes a safe word before anything sexual.

- He always gives aftercare no matter what.

- He is extremely kinky, let's just say that.

- Loves roleplay

- He is very big on foreplay because he doesn't want his partner to not be pleasured correctly or feel 'unready'. He always wants his partner to be comfortable and happy.

- He loves being called sir/professor and SOMETIMES daddy. Though, he prefers the first two most of all.

#severus snape #harry potter #severus snape x reader #headcanon #professor snape #pro snape #snape #snape fandom #fanfic #writers of tumblr #fanfic writing #Spotify