#noise is the type of guy to say that men are hot but not be attracted to them in any sort of way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mintmatcha · 6 months

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one, two, and....

Hanamaki x reader x Matsukawa

cw: cisfem reader, threesome, PIV sex, squirting

a/n: I've been working on this forever and I think it's time to release it into the world. Originally it was supposed to have three different endings to choose from, so maybe one day I'll release the Snyder Cut With all three lol!

"I've been thinking of starting an OnlyFans."

You and Makki turn to your friend, sharing identical blank expressions. Mattsun doesn't crack a smile, eyes never leaving the television screen. With a few swipes of his thumbs, the dark-haired man has knocked your video game character off of the map with absolutely no mercy, forcing you to half heartedly return to playing.

"You kinda gotta be hot for that," Makki chides. He's been dead for a while now, so he just tosses his controller to the side. He's on the other side of his friend, leaning back away from the arm of the couch with a half-cocked smile.

"I am hot. Like, really hot," Mattsun replies, "And I have a pornstar cock."

A heat washes over your face and drains down your whole body. You can't deny it: Matsukawa Issei is hot. Like, really hot. Even in the low light, with only the neon flickering of the television illuminating the sharp angles of his face, he's beautiful. Heavy lidded eyes and thin lips that break into a troublesome grin-- it's almost tragic how beautiful he is.

You'd give your right leg for either of them to think of you as anything other than a 'bro'.

"Shut the fuck up." You're jamming the controller too hard and the plastic whines under the pressure, " 'Pornstar cock.' As if. You're such an asshole."

"Nah, that's true. He does have a massive cock." Makki nods, sticking his tongue through the gap between his canine and molar. He's cuter than his dark haired friend, with round cheeks that dimple when he laughs and round eyes that almost disappear when he smiles. It's a different type of hot-- an imperfect one that you crave all the same.

"Oh, you've seen his dick?" you ask, a bit sarcastically. They did play sports in high school; it's possible a penis popped out in the changing rooms.

"Duh." Makki puffs his chest, "We've had a threeway."

That's news. A sticky, dark feeling clings to your chest. It's wrong of you to want either of them, and yet you want both-- the idea that someone else beat you to it makes your stomach flip.

“It was a good one too.” Mattsun says. He doesn't even bawk, clearly more concerned with the game than this.

“Aww, it’s always good with you, babe.” Makki blows a kiss, with a flourish of his wrist, "That hand job? Phenomenal."

Your character dies in a blaze of color and lights, it's sad little noise soon drowned out by victory music. Mattsun tosses his controller to the side, pumping his fist in a rather calm victory. You quickly exit out of the game and let the opening screen loop, your mood soured.

"You guys are just fucking with me,” you grumble.

“Like I’d ever joke about sex.” Makki sends you a wink and you hate that it makes your cheeks a little hot.

“It’s the only thing he takes seriously," Mattsun agrees. They both elbow each other conspiratorially, sharing a laugh that might be at your expense. Mattsun’s dark eyes flicker to you and his wolfish smile grows toothier as he draws his gaze down, raking over every inch of your body. Oh, they are definitely lying. Your jealousy immediately drains from your body.

“Are you -?”

You interrupt Mattsun before he can even finish.

“Prove it then."

Both men turn in unison, Makki’s eyes wide and Mattsun’s narrowed.

“Prove you’re had a threesome,” you clarify with a shrug. Your voice is dripping with victory and you can barely keep the grin from your face.

“How can we prove that?” Mattsun laughs, “I didn’t take pictures.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Kiss each other.”

“What?” It's Makki's turn to laugh.

“Kiss each other,” you repeat, making a jerk off motion in the air, “You guys rubbed cocks, but you won’t kiss? Really?”

They share a quick glance, communicating silently between themselves with fleeting expressions and pointing chins. Mattsun suddenly scoffs, turning back to you with a raised brow. Neither of them say anything and you know you’re won.

“‘I’m going to start an OnlyFans,’” you taunt, “‘I have a huge cock.’ ‘I’ve had so many threesomes.’ You’re such bad liars.”

Makki moves first. He presses forward on to his hands, gripping his friend’s thigh as he leans in head first. He lingers in the lack of space he's created, nose brushing up against his friends. They share a couple of unheard words before Mattsun closes the gap between them with a lazy tilt of his head, lips just barely touching the others in the faintest of kisses. Before you can claim that a kiss that chaste doesn’t count, Makki moves again, swinging a leg over to straddle Mattsun in a practiced move. You gasp out loud as they meet again, mouths parted and tongue sliding against each other.

Then, it’s a tangle. Mattsun’s fingers are woven into strawberry blonde hair, dragging him closer to catch Makki’s lip in between his teeth. He seems to enjoy the pain; Makki’s hums of approval rumble so deep you can feel it resonate in your chest, filling the space between your ribs with a burning desire. Hands wander, gripping shirts and hips and the back of each other's necks, barely giving them space to pull in a breath. It’s pornographic, the way they grind into each other, rutting like dogs. If it's an act- it’s a good one. Through the thick fabric of his jeans, you swear you can see the outline of Makki’s cock against his thigh, waiting for attention.

You want attention too-- you're dripping for it. You push back into the arm of the couch and clamp your legs together, hoping to smother the want that's built there. Part of you wonders if they’d ever notice if your hand slipped down the front of your pants; they’re so lost in the moment that you think they’ve forgotten you exist.

Just as you debate it, hand on the buckle of your belt, Makki’s head snaps your way knowingly. The dark haired man doesn't stop though; Mattsun's lips immediately latch onto the base of his neck, sucking a hickey on to freckled skin.

“C’mere.” There’s a pitch to Makki's voice as teeth sink in right before his Adam's apple. "C'mere."

There’s no time to hesitate. Makki’s hand clamps around your ankle and tugs, sliding you closer and trapping your legs between the men’s bodies. You barely manage to remain sitting up and you almost immediately regret not falling over. Makki is too close, watching you with a hazed over expression that makes your stomach twist tight.

Somehow, Mattsun is unphased, eyes so heavily lidded that you can barely make out how they flicker to you. At least, you think he’s unaffected, until one of his fingers catches under one of your belt loops. They pull you closer together, folding you until you're angled awkwardly beside them, legs still trapped.

"I-" you start, a pant to your voice. Sometimes you forget how tall they both are, but right now you are very aware; they both tower over you, a hunger in their eyes you barely recognize. "You guys-"

"Dude," Makki's breath tickles against your cheek, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Mattsun agrees into the soft of your neck, sarcastic as always, "Read the room."

The chaos of both of them slowly envelops you. Makki's lips meet yours as Mattsun's teeth nip and all you can do is gasp as every nerve in your body flares. It's overwhelming to be the center of both of their desires, being tugged and pulled back and forth, someone's hands digging into the soft of your stomach, someone else unbuttoning your pants.

When you break away to breathe, Mattsun is there, catching you right where Makki left off. He kisses differently- lazier, slower. His counterpart kissed you so roughly your lips burn where his teeth once were; Mattsun approaches with a feather touch, barely enough to satiate your need for him.

Hands snake across your back and around to your tits, greedily cupping them through your shirt. Somehow, you've migrated, now straddling Mattsun's lap with Makki at your back. Your bra gaps and gives and Makki grumbles in annoyance.

“Issei,” You’ve never heard Makki use his first name before, “Unhook her bra.”

Mattsun finishes the kiss, lingering, savoring, watching with his deep, dreamy eyes.

“Do it yourself.” His voice is practically a sigh. You want to melt into him, sinking into him to slot your mouths together.

"You know, last week Issei over here told me how bad he wants to suck your tits," Makki whispers into the shell of your ear. A warm touch slips under your shirt and your bra suddenly feels loose. You lean back enough to give the blonde enough space to go back to kneading your breasts and this time his long fingers roll your nipple between them, "He's been hard for you for a while now.'

A twitch has started in your legs, trembling tight as the hot feeling inside you screws tighter and tighter. The way your jeans sit gives you nothing to grind against, not even the rock hard cock that's pressed into your thigh. It's thick -- much thicker than you expected.

"I wanna suck them too, obviously," Makki continues, "I wanna put my mouth everywhere."

He pecks your earlobe. "Wanna suck your clit while you struggle to take Issei's cock."

Mattsun hums in approval as he grabs your hips, tugging your hips impossibly closer, "If she can even take it."

That turns your core molten. They want you-- they want you the way you want them. You wish they'd keep talking and blab about all of their dirty whims and wants-

"Yeah," you breathe, "Yeah, I can take it."

Mattsun slips his hand from your legs and ghosts them up to your waistband. The open button of your jeans makes it easy for him to slide in, dipping down under your panties. His fingers are wide, brushing against the cleft of your pussy delicately.

"She isn't shaved." He talks like you aren't there, looking over your shoulder to his friend.

"Oh, I like that," Makki chirps. The ministrations haven't stopped; he's still rolling and squeezing and pinching, watching for what makes you wiggle and gasp. He finds a good motion just as the heel of Mattsun's palm grinds against your clit. Those massive fingers waste no time, forcing their way inside you. The suddenness stretches you tender.

All three sensations combine and suddenly your brain is fuzzy-- your eyes can even stay focused. It's too much, it's not enough; you squirm and you can't tell if you're trying to get away or get more.

"Oh shit," Mattsun chuckles, scissoring his fingers side to side. This time you yelp-- mostly out of surprise -- and that spurs him on further. "There's no way you're fitting me. Fuck, I don't know if you'd fit Hiro."

"You're making me sound shrimpy."

"Shrimpier than me."

"I'm not shrimpy! Dude's like, inches longer than the national average. I've checked."

"You named your cock Dude?"

"Oi, it's a good-"

You cut in, voice flat. You love them both, but the quips just aren't that sexy when you're those horny, "Please stop doing-- that--" Oh, your voice is broken/, "You're killing my orgasm."

"Oh shit, you gonna cum?" Mattsun realizes, grinding back down again. That sparks something in you again, but not quite as bright, but your body cramps at the thought of not chasing it. "You that sensitive?"

"Love an easy girl," Makki chirps.

"I was going to-" You shook a glance between them, both sheepish and grinning- "until you guys opened your mouths."

"Aw, does that mean the threesome is off?" Makki says that as he's lifting your shirt up. You help, letting him strip your top bare.

"No," you admit in a low voice, "I wanna keep going.”

They exchange a look and you swear they are mentally high fiving each other. You wriggle off your pants and they both sudden spring into action, afraid of this moment passing by.

"You should ask Hiro to fuck you first." Mattsun pulls his own shirt off, "Let him stretch you out nice and good for me."

"Nah, fuck Issei first," Makki is quick to say, "I like sloppy seconds."

You don't have to think about it.

"Mattsun."

You're too greedy to wait.

Mattsun dips his thumbs under your panties and gently lowers them as he dips his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a surprising amount of stubble on his face- more than you’ve ever noticed before- tickling the softest softs of you. “These are really cute by the way.”

You clearly weren’t expecting to get dick today; you’re in your full coverage, full butt panties, the ones that hang out in the back of your drawer and digs a bit too much into your hips. “Really?”

He tries to bite back his smile, tongue poked deep in his cheek as he helps you off of the couch and onto the floor. You can’t help but wonder the last time these guys vacuumed as you watch the brunette lay down, urging you on to this lap with gentle hands. You end up on his thighs, just low enough that the lump in his pants is right above you.

"Yeah. They’re like, I dunno, homey. Comfortable. " He runs his hand up your sides. The other man doesn’t join; Makki just scooches the coffee table over with his foot to clear a space for him to watch. His palm is pressing into the noticeable swell on his pants as he watches, eyes flickering between the two of you. Suddenly, your least favorite pair of underwear is your favorite. You can't help but preen and pose, arching your back and cupping a tit coyishly.

"You just gonna sit there and watch?" you tease, even though your heart is racing, “It’s not really a three way without you.”

"Hey, this is free OnlyFans content! I’m gonna enjoy it!” He jerks his chin towards his friend, "Plus, I wanna see your reaction.”

Your eyes roll themselves at that. You turn back to Mattsun, waiting for him to laugh or tease, but he just watches you back, an overly cocky smile smeared across his lips.

“Are we really going to pretend your cock is that big?” You let your fingers trail down his bare chest and hope he can’t feel like them tremble. God, you can see it kick through the denim. It’s getting harder and harder to tease him now that they both know you want this.

“You’re so right,” Mattsun’s voice drips with sarcasm, “I’m tiny.”

He finally pops the top to his jeans and snakes them down. The light blue pattern of his briefs does nothing to conceal the growing sticky stain that's formed on the front. Most of his length is still hidden under the denim, but the bit you can see is….

Fuck, that that cannot be a cock. Maybe a fucking TV remote.

“So fucking small, huh?” You realize you’re making a face when he starts laughing.

“What a shame,” he continues as he frees the rest, “Hot guy with a micro-- you should pity fuck me or something.”

It’s pretty. That’s the fucked up part about it. The head is a soft pink, glazed wet with precum, fading into a surprising tan color. It’s thicker than your wrist, with a single vein down the underside and would be perfect to drag your tongue across. Mattsun gives himself a single, slow pump, pulling a perfect droplet of clear liquid from his slit. With the other hand, he takes your wrist and pulls your touch to his, letting you grip his length. Your thumb and middle finger barely connect.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Yeah?”

Your fingers pulse, testing the firmness. There’s some give-- he’s not even fully hard.

“You were right, this is a pornstar cock.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes and gives you another toothy grin. His legs spread wider, therefore spreading yours too- so far that your labia slips free from the short fabric of your panties. The damp skin feels cold against the air, but the heat of anticipation is making you sweat.

“I told you.” Makki chimes in. You hadn’t realized that he had moved until his voice was rumbling against the fat of your ass. He’s the one who’s spread Mattsun’s legs, crawling in between them on hands and knees to press kisses against your back. “You gonna take it?”

You’re not sure you can. It’s a comical amount of dick, but your pride won’t let you back out. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“Oh yeah?” Your underwear digs further into your skin as Makki tugs it to the side and completely frees your cunt. “‘cause it looks pretty small back here.”

With a squelch, two fingers slip easily into you, reaching and curling deep. A moan hits you like a punch, crumpling you at the waist. Hands on Mattsun’s shoulders, you just brace yourself as Makki eases out and pushes back in, this time a bit slower.

“Are you sure you aren’t a virgin?” He wriggles for effect and your body clenches around him in response.

“Oi, lemme feel.” Mattsun’s hand pushes through the petals of you. Just as you think Makki’s going to pull away to give Mattsun space, the stretch grows more intense; two sets of hands are crammed into you, knuckles brushing against each other, and it makes your vision starred.

“Oh-” Your voice hollows out on you, “My god--”

It’s all you can do to take it, letting them squelch and move and prod asynchronistically. It’s clumsy and strange and honestly a bit weird, but your body seems to disagree; excitement is literally dripping from you, running down your thighs and smearing across their hands, popping and slicking and practically leaking. They’re treating you like a toy, you realize, exploring instead of trying to please you.

Someone's talking. Your brain tries to fight through the fog of pleasure to figure out what's being said, but the pulses and twitches of pleasure running through every muscle in your body are simply louder. Everything inside you is teetering towards the brink in a way you're never felt before. It's not like any other pleasure you've ever felt-- it's internal, it's uncomfortable, it's----

And everything lets go. You're cumming, you think. You realized your eyes have been closed this whole time, too absorbed in what's happening inside you.

"Ohmygodohmygod." It's been your voice this whole time. When you finally come down, you realize the two have gone still, just watching you.

"Damn." Makki whistles low."Do you always squirt?"

Oh, you burn with embarrassment. You tey to close your legs but there's two men in between them. "I've never done that before."

"That's so hot."

“Fuck,” Mattsun is trying to angle your hips with one hand and adjust his cock with the other, angling for your hole, “I’m gonna cum so quick, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Trepidation turns your stomach. You're wet all the way down your thighs, but Mattsun is a monster-- it's going to ache no matter what.

"Go slow, okay?"

"Aw, you'll take what I give you." Mattsun rolls his eyes with a smile, running his cock head through your folds. His cock slips and misses a couple times, prodding where it shouldn't be.

"You're embarrassing me," Makki whines, "Let me fucking do it."

Two fingers spread your pussy lips open wide. You can't see, but the strawberry blonde must be holding his friend's cock now because it immediately finds where it wants to be; the head catches against your opening and sinks in ever so slightly. You have to will yourself to relax and not fight the intrusion-- even though the stretch is wild//.

"Hey," Makki taps your thigh and you realize you're shaking. The pleasure and the discomfort are different sides to the same coin- both make your toes curl and your breath hitch as Mattsun sinks deeper and deeper.

"You have a pornstar pussy, baby." A finger runs over where your body meets cock and you can feel how taut you're stretched. Your body pulses at that realization and it rips a groan from the man under you. "It's so sexy to see you get ruined like that."

"Oh, it feels so fucking good too," Mattsun gasps. He looks so good like this, with pink cheeks and sweat touched hair. His pretty lips are pressed together with effort, trying to hold himself steady and he carefully gives you more and more.

Fuck, you swear you can feel him in your guts and he's not even halfway in. Your toes are curling from the pressure alone, but you refuse to make any noise about it; you’re not going to stroke his ego anymore. You can handle him putting it in-

"I'm gonna eat your ass-- is that cool?"

Makki doesn't wait for a reply. The sloppy wet prod of his tongue against your skin is the breaking point. It feels strange and wrong in the most delightful ways and your body absolutely betrays you again; your head is absolutely swimming as you bump and grind into both men, taking more cock than you can handle as Makki defiles you-

“Yeah, squeeze tight,” Mattsun is jerking his hips up, driving into you with short strokes, “Holy shit, girl, you’re gonna make me look fucking stupid-- squeeze, that’s it--”

“I'm going to fuck you the second Issei is done with you, I swear to god--”

That sounds good to you. That sounds very good. You hum a little agreement, and Makki just laughs.

Hands are pressing down on your hips and you swat at the brunette in panic-- only to realize it’s not his hands that are rushing you. Makki, as he sucks and slobbers, is urging you down faster and faster, trying to get your hips against his friend’s. You try and obey, letting him greedily force you down, but a sharp twist of a cramp slowly starts to twist inside you.

“Hiro--” Mattsun sucks air through his teeth, eyes screwed tight, “Hiro, youch, she’s full. I’m touching her cervix.”

Your hips feel like they are miles away from Issei’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. It should be illegal to be that long. It hurts, it makes your insides twist--

But, damn, you kind of like it.

You press up on to your knees and sink down again, locking into the gentlest of rhythms. The aching slow movement is enough to make your body spark, electricity thrumming through your core and up your spine. The man under you can only watch, those puppy dog eyes wider and wetter with every stroke. Eventually he starts moving with you, bucking up into your cunt hesitantly.

The two loudest, most annoying men in your life are now silent, too focused on you to do anything else. All three of you just sort of click into a groove, grinding and bucking and loving and squeezing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, every muscle twitching and tense with need-

Somehow, you don’t cum first. Mattsun’s hands are suddenly everywhere, gripping your ass and rolling your nipple under his thumb. He fucks up into you hard and that sharp cramp returns, followed by a familiar pooling, wet warmth right against your deepest parts. You can feel the throb of his cock as he unloads, giving you every fucking drop he can. Issei’s lips are parts with effort, teeth marks imprinted on his lower vermillion. There’s almost a haze to his eyes, caught in his pleasure and still looking for you.

“Oh, shit-” he hisses mindlessly, “Oh, fuck, shit--”

It’s dripping from you and down Makki’s chin.

“You on birth control?” Issei asks weakly, all tension drained from his body.

“It’s a bit late to ask that,” Makki chimes in. The thinner man pushes you forward, shifting your weight onto your hands. Like this, Issei’s softening cock can’t stay in- it slides out with a dribble. Mattsun is now so much closer now, his face nearly nuzzling yours. Your eyes meet his, dark and tired, and you’re struck by the urge to kiss him properly.

You’re then struck by the sudden sensation of being stuffed.

Despite their teasing earlier, Hanamaki is //not// small. He's not inhumanely big like Mattsun, but you're aware of every inch, pressing almost as deep as before. The squelch of cum being displaced from you is loud and disgusting, but all three of you reveal in the sound.

“God, I love a fresh fucked pussy,” he coos. “You’re gaping and messy, baby.”

Where Mattsun moved slow, Makki does not. He's rutting into you hard, pushing you into Mattsun's chest. The man below you kisses your cheek with a laugh, clearly enjoying the faces you're making. You're wet down to your knees, smeared with a mixture of bodily fluids, and it offers no resistance for Makki as he enjoys himself.

It's like you're a toy, being used just for him pleasure, and you're body can't get enough.

“You gonna cum?” Mattsun asks mockingly. He just enjoy the sight, watching your tits hang against his chest. You almost say no, even though you're dangerously close to the edge again. “Ah, don't rush yourself. Hiro can last all night if you need it.”

“Hm, I'm just trying to give you some time to recover before round two,” Oh, you hate that he doesn't even sound phased, “I'm pacing myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Mattsun says.

Makki thrusts even harder, accenting his words. “How else are we supposed to go all night?

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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

Eddie's porn stash is a pretty conventional one. An 'if you've seen one stash you've seen them all' type. It basically only consists of skin mags, some of them kinky but most of them vanilla. Normal stuff.

The oddest thing in it is a two-year-old calendar. You know those sexy firefighter calendars? Usually a charity thing? A hit with the housewife crowd? Yeah. Except this calendar decided to branch out and include a bunch of sexy men from a bunch of sexy professions.

So, in this thing, joining the sexy firefighter is a sexy doctor, a sexy construction worker, a sexy police officer (whose month Eddie tore out and burned because fuck cops but don't ever fuck cops), a sexy librarian, and so on. They're all really good-looking, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic.

It's weird. Paramedics aren't normally part of the traditionally sexy professions. It's messy and sometimes tragic, but lacks the high-paying glamour that doctors and nurses enjoy. Eddie's had his fair share of fantasies, and none of them involved fucking a paramedic.

Until two years ago.

The guy in the calendar simply is that hot.

There's not even anything risqué about his picture. None of the pictures go beyond "this dude is chiseled and shirtless", because veering even slightly past the softest softcore territory would scare off the little housewives or something.

(Eddie is actually pretty fucking sure it'd increase the sales, but hey, what does he know.)

The point is, there's nothing that obscene about the pic. Just a guy kneeling in the back of an ambulance, first aid equipment scattered between his powerful thighs, shirt open to reveal his sculpted torso…

Dark hair spanning across his pecs, over his abs, vanishing down his tight tight tight pants. Hips canting upward, bringing attention to the size of his bulge beneath the zipper. Broad shoulders, ripped arms and large hands, veins protruding across the back. A pretty yet masculine face, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, full lips, a smattering of moles going down his biteable neck. Voluminous, golden brown hair swooped away from his twinkling eyes.

He's got this look in them, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in the calendar.

The one month everyone will go crazy for.

Eddie has become intimately familiar with that look. No joke, in two years it's made him crack his marbles more than anyone else has done in his quarter-century lifetime. When all else fails, November-paramedic has his back. It's basically his longest relationship to date, which sounds a lot sadder out loud (and it sounded fucking sad inside his head, too).

You might wonder why any of that is relevant now, as he sits on the curb outside of The Behemoth with blood trickling from his temple, his band giving their statements to one cop while another hauls away the snarling douchebag that clipped him. How does it play a part in this god-awful night out, you ask?

Well.

"Sir?"

Eddie startles, too caught up in the thudding inside his head, made worse by the buzzing crowd, to notice the man approaching him. He looks up, his gaze gliding past uniformed legs, muscular forearms, a curved neck and honeyed eyes appraising Eddie, and oh.

Oh God.

Eddie's breath sticks in his chest and his tongue becomes a cognate to sandpaper, because it's the paramedic.

It's the paramedic. From the calendar.

He's hallucinating. He has to be. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and now he's having one last weird sex dream before his brain finishes seeping out and he fucking dies.

November-paramedic crouches in front of him. Eddie continues to gape like he's getting ready to catch the peanuts no one is tossing at him.

"My name is Steve. I'm with the ambulance," November-paramedic says. "What's your name?"

Eddie makes a noise incomprehensible to most Earth cultures before his brain registers the meaning of the question and stutters out the answer.

"I- Uh- E-Eddie. It's, it's Eddie."

November-paramedic – Steve – smiles kindly. Heat prickles across Eddie's cheeks and neck. It's not the same as the cocky, sexy smile he's got in the calendar, but still. He's smiling. At Eddie!

"Hi, Eddie." He nods toward Eddie's temple. "That's an impressive cut you got there. May I take a look at it?"

"Yeah? Yeah. Um, g-go ahead."

As Steve sets down his bag and rummages through it, Eddie scours his face to confirm that it really is the guy from the calendar. To his chagrin, it is. There's no mistaking it. Those eyes, like liquid gold. That jawline, a weapon in its own right. Those moles, applied so skillfully it must've been by an artist's hand. That hair, coming straight out of a commercial for luxury shampoo. It's lying flatter than in the calendar, either lacking product or having sweated it out, but it's still glorious.

Steve, having finished washing his hands, tugs on a pair of disposable gloves. The plastic snaps against his wrist, sending a shiver through Eddie. It centers between his legs. Shit, if he pops a boner now…

"I'm going to ask you some questions, okay?" Steve says while pressing a square piece of gauze against the cut. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Eh, Thursday?"

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Behemoth."

Steve nods and, with a lopsided smile, asks, "And are you a patron or did you and your head injury just wander onto the scene?"

Eddie laughs. Loud, merry, and verging on too long. It wasn't even that funny. Steve seems pleased his joke was a success, though. Unless his smile is the uncomfortable kind that one wears when faced with the unhinged. Eddie isn't sure how much blood he's lost.

"No, I, like, my band…" he says, stammering like talking isn't what he does best. Jesus Christ, it's just a hot guy! Eddie has made a fool of himself in front of those plenty of times – no need to get flustered about it. He clears his throat. "We had a gig and, after, at the bar, some guys got into a fight. Got ugly, so we tried to leave, but… alas!" He makes a dramatic sweep of his arm, nearly clocking Steve. Steve expertly ducks away without lessening the pressure on the wound. Eddie soldiers on, not daring to pause lest he lose his steam. Hopefully his burning face is enough of an apology. "Fucker wasn't even aiming for me. He missed his intended target and struck me instead."

"Right. Did you lose consciousness after he hit you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Did you drink tonight?"

"Half a beer, at most."

"Do-"

"Eddie!"

Gareth's nasally voice cuts off Steve's question. The next second, he's materialized beside them with a slightly alarmed expression. "Dude, are you…!"

He trails off, eyes growing into dinner plates. There isn't that much blood, is there?

Steve looks Gareth up and down, a crease between his brows. "Is this your friend?"

"My drummer. Gareth."

Eddie half-expects Steve to demand Gareth leaves so he can do his job in peace, but nope. That kind, calm smile is back. He even gives him one of those little upward-nods 'cool guys' like to do.

"What's up, Gareth? I'm Steve; I'm with the ambulance. Just making sure Eddie won't keel over later tonight."

"Uh huh…" Gareth kneels opposite Steve. He's smiling too, but his is shit eating. Eddie frowns in confusion, because what does Gareth have to be happy about? He was freaking out right after Eddie got hit, but now he's staring at Steve like-

Oh.

He's staring at Steve.

No. Noooooooooo! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh why, why has he kept his porn stash in a drawer without a lock all these years?! He can't recollect the reason Gareth opened that particular drawer on that particular day – all Eddie remembers is how Gareth, Jeff, and Marv snickered when he explained the inclusion of the calendar.

That was it, though. They moved on. Sure, there has been the occasional roasting after the fact, but it's not like he hasn't also mocked them for their weird shit. But that's not the point. The point is that Gareth is staring at Steve like he recognizes him.

Gareth's attention flicks toward Eddie. Eddie shakes his head as subtly yet pleadingly as he can. Gareth's grin gobbles down another turd. Eddie makes a valiant effort to explode Gareth's eyeballs with his mind.

"Say…" Gareth turns to Steve. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so. Eddie, do you have a headache?"

"Yeah, man," Eddie says, voice trembling. "Hurts like hell."

"I could've sworn I've seen your face before," Gareth says. "Like, I'm 100% sure."

"Are you dizzy or nauseous?" Steve asks, ignoring Gareth.

"Um, a little dizzy but no nausea?"

"Hmm, okay. Blurred vision or uneven numbness?"

"No."

Steve nods, glancing at his watch. Then, to Eddie’s dismay, he looks at Gareth. "I've never been to this bar before."

"Nono, not here. Somewhere else…"

Steve's lips purse and his brows knit into the most adorable thinking-face Eddie has ever seen. His heart skips a beat, then skips two more as Steve's free hand gently cups Eddie's cheek. The skin catches fire where Steve's gloved fingertips touch it.

"Let me have a look at your pupils…" Steve says, guiding Eddie's face and, holy shit, leaning in close for a better look.

Eddie gulps, half his blood rushing up and the other half down; he squeezes his legs together to prevent the little guy from saying 'hello' to everyone present. His eyes rove over Steve's face. His lips are chapped and the skin on his nose is dry. The nose itself is somewhat crooked. Did he get into a fight between the calendar photoshoot and now, or did they make the nose straighter for the photo? Why would anyone think it necessary to edit a face like this one? Even with its imperfections mere inches away, it's still the handsomest Eddie has seen.

Steve hums. It's a perfectly preserved vinyl. It's a metal festival. It's Eddie's new favorite song.

"Same size but pretty dilated… Keep your eyes open, please." He shines a tiny flashlight into Eddie's eyes before nodding, satisfied. "All right, looks good."

He leans back out of Eddie's space, returning Eddie's ability to breathe, and removes the gauze. His smile tells Eddie that the bleeding has stopped. As great as it is that he won't hemorrhage to death, it also means their encounter is approaching its end.

"You might've seen me at the university campus?" Steve says, fiddling with some plasters; it takes Eddie's horny brain five full seconds to deduce he's talking to Gareth again.

"No-" Gareth freezes, mouth hanging open. His smugness has evaporated. "Actually, I might have? You're a student?"

Steve chuckles as he patches the last of Eddie's cut. "No, but my friends are. None of them own a car, so I end up driving them everywhere. Right, Eddie, I think you're good to recover at home. Unless you feel like you should head to the hospital?"

Great question! Does he? On the one hand: riding in the ambulance with Steve, ensuring a few additional minutes of his lustrous eyes and smooth voice.

On the other hand: hospital bills.

"… no."

"Okay. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I live alone."

"Then maybe Gareth could hang around for the next 48 hours?"

"Sure can," Gareth says without hesitating. Eddie's heart swells with affection for him, despite his (failed! Hah!) plot to mortify Eddie to death.

Steve is already packing his medical bag.

"I want you to rest and avoid stressful situations," he tells Eddie. "No alcohol, no recreational drugs, no driving, and no working until you feel completely recovered. You may take tylenol, but not aspirin or ibuprofen. And if your symptoms worsen or you develop new ones – seek medical attention. Got it?"

The last part is sterner, reminding Eddie of every male authority figure he's strived to disobey during his teenage years. He has no such desire this time.

"Got it."

Steve raises his eyebrows as if to say 'have you really?', and Eddie has to wonder if it's he who seems contrariant and/or stupid enough to ignore the medic or if this is something Steve does with every patient. If it's the former, he mustn't seem that contrariant, because Steve's features soften into trust. He stands, brushing dust off his knees.

"Great. You boys take care now. Have a nice night."

"Yeah, you too, man," Eddie calls after him weakly as he retreats to the blinking ambulance. "Thanks…"

He keeps his gaze on the broad expanse of Steve's back, soaking in the rippling of his muscles as he walks and, oh would you look at that, his ass is as nice as the rest of him. Eddie's been wondering for two years now…

"Dude!"

Eddie jerks toward Gareth. Did he say that out loud? Did he drool? Is his boner showing? But no, Gareth isn't disgusted or disturbed – he's excited.

Shit.

He'll never hear the end of this.

"Don't!" he hisses.

Gareth just laughs, eyes twinkling.

"That was-"

"Don't!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Gareth-"

"You are so red right now!"

"For Jesus fucking Christ's fucking sake-"

------------------------------

Dedicated to @rougenancy for always listening to and encouraging my various thoughts, opinions, and ideas (they are constant).

Part 2

AO3

#me combining paramedic!steve with model!steve? it's more likely than you think #no need to tell me i'm a genius – i already know it #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #it's not important but i named the third guy 'marvin'#because i think he looks like one #this is part one out of [undecided]#i'll be winging it in the middle so that'll be fun #my writing #steddie fic: november paramedic

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delirious-donna · 3 months

Text

Bath Time Gone Wrong [Part One]

an: a huge thanks to @satorini for the prompt that produced this. Let's see if this goes anywhere... it sure has potential.

prompt: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: none, SFW

Series Masterlist | Part Two

You couldn’t believe your luck. Not only was your friend clearly loaded, they had immaculate taste as well. All of this you might never have discovered if it hadn’t been for a miscommunication that left you with no place to stay over spring break.

It would be wrong to blame your parents for forgetting that you would be coming home for the two week break, instead arranging for the family home to be renovated whilst they cruised to goodness knows where, but you still felt that stab of disappointment and hurt in your gut. One phone call to confirm dates would have fixed that, but no, what was done was done.

Instead, you found yourself in a penthouse apartment that your friend from college said you could use as it was currently sitting empty. Those were Karin’s exact words, “Don’t worry about it, the place is empty anyways. May as well make the most of it!”

Whistling through your teeth, you did a slow 360 spin of the entranceway.

The moment your Uber had pulled up outside the building you had an inkling that the inside was going to be luxurious, and you were dead right. The penthouse apartment on the very top floor needed a code and a swipe of a keycard to access by elevator. Your fingers fumbled on the keypad in your nervous excitement, only blowing out a breath of relief when you began to move smoothly upward.

As the doors opened, you found that the apartment was almost entirely open plan with panoramic windows of the cityscape lining the length of the wall in front of you. “Well, fuck…”

The decor wasn’t quite minimalist, there were too many home comforts to allow for that, but everything was clean lines and muted colour palettes. The sprawling couch scattered with one too many throw pillows, a basket of neatly folded blankets of every type of thickness tucked into the corner and a lush potted plant with long spiky green leaves all added that homely touch that true minimalist apartments lacked.

It was spacious but oddly welcoming with a rich scent that permeated the air, French coffee and freshly baked bread. You wondered if there was perhaps a housekeeper or someone that stopped by every few days to keep the place ticking over.

That thought was how you found yourself exploring deeper into the apartment, searching for an occupied room or some sign of life. There were no noises to be heard, no telltale signs that a terrified housekeeper might pop out any moment and scare the bejeezus out of you. What you did find was several seemingly unused bedrooms in different colour schemes and what you assumed was the master bedroom.

What a sight.

The bed dominated the majority of the room, a thick grey duvet adorned with pillows and a turned down fleece lined blanket on top. What kind of luxury lifestyle did Karin live that she had this kind of place stashed away, unused?

Perhaps you should have peeked inside the closets or the walk-in wardrobe at the very least, but you were drawn like the proverbial moth to a flame by the enticing peek of an en-suite bathroom.

Dumping your small wheelie suitcase and hold-all by the bed, you scurried towards the pristine black and white marble decorated room. It was safe to say you were giggling like an idiot, hands clapping together at the generously sized tub and did it have jets too? Oh my gosh, it did!

In your pure unfiltered joy, you found some jasmine scented bubble bath tucked away behind the bathroom mirror, completely overlooking the men’s razor and bottle of expensive cologne that sat beside it.

A bath would be exactly the thing to begin your new adventure. You could soak, shave your legs, listen to some music and contemplate what you could get up to with your two weeks here. Oh, takeout! You could order something super decadent and pretend that this was actually your place for a little while.

The possibilities were endless.

You set your phone up in the bathroom, finding a favourite playlist and blasting the music louder than you would have done back home. No one would mind, you were alone and the noise surely wouldn’t filter to any of the apartments below.

This was going to be an amazing spring break, you could feel it.

Kento was tired. What was new?

A weary hand passed over his face as he examined his reflection in the elevator mirror. Has he always looked this tired? Maybe.

He exhaled as the doors opened into his apartment, but only two steps forward told him that something was not right. Nothing had been touched or moved in the living area or kitchen, yet an unfamiliar scent mingled with the one he was used to.

Slowly, he deposited his briefcase and shrugged out of his jacket to hang it in the closet by the front door. He kicked out of his too-tight shoes and two fingers loosened the knot of his tie whilst his frown deepened.

His home office was exactly as it should be. The same with his little gym studio. None of the unoccupied guest bedrooms were disturbed, including the one that Karin had long claimed as her own for when she visited once in a blue moon.

Had Karin decided to visit thinking that he’d be away on the business trip that was cancelled last minute? It would be just like her to do something like that, but he was certain she would have stayed away from his room—the master suite.

Now certain to find his baby sister, who was as far from being a baby than ever, somewhere within the walls of his home, he felt his temper bubble. He didn’t need to be disturbed during what was pitched to him as mandated paid time off.

Kento was already annoyed by the idea that was forced upon him earlier this afternoon, and it wasn’t until he reached his building did he begin to think perhaps it was a blessing. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken any vacation time. A week or so to unwind, maybe read for the first time in months, sample a new whisky imported from Scotland…

The possibilities were endless.

He spied a small suitcase open on his bed, the contents a riotous jumble that made his head pound just to look at. A trail of clothing led from the bed to the bathroom door which stood slightly ajar. Perfumed steam escaped and his teeth grit together in irritation. Music played rather loudly in his opinion, a bright bubbly song with lyrics in a different language he couldn’t understand.

Did he dare to burst into the bathroom and scare the living daylights out of his darling little sister? The idea was tempting. The only downside being that he had no interest in mistakenly seeing her in some state of undress if she hadn’t yet made it into the bath. He would listen a little longer, wait until he was sure he wasn’t going to irreparably damage both his eyesight and his psyche before acting.

Kento padded around the bed, pulling his tie off and throwing it on the pillow to deal with later. The top three buttons on his shirt unbuttoned easily and breathing became a little easier again. Not for the first time, his mood shifted again. It would be nice to see Karin, catch up and find out how school was going. There was never enough time during the holidays to really enjoy her company so maybe this was all working out for the best.

He was still going to give her the fright of her life though.

The sound of splashing reached his ears and he smiled. Memories of tormenting his little sister rose to the surface whilst he tiptoed silently towards the bathroom door. He could hear the sound of humming along to the music and he had to stifle a snort of laughter, singing was not her forte.

A strong hand gripped the edge of the door. Kento held his breath, preparing to yell. Silently, he counted to three and leapt inside.

“Boooo!”

You had never screamed so loud in your entire life. A man was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his features twisted in amusement but quickly shifting into sheer mortification.

Water sloshed over the side of the bath, bubbles going up your nose as you pushed your body low into the fragrant water. An intruder!

“Who the fuck are you?” You yelled indignantly, anger finally overcoming the terror ripping through your heart. Whoever he was, he was tall and incredibly pissed off.

His blond hair fell into his eyes, a hand the size of a dustbin lid swiping it back only to highlight the furious scrunch of his eyebrows. Sharp hazel eyes swung between you and the wall, clearly unsure where to look. In other circumstances, you would have called him good-looking, handsome even but not when you were so very vulnerable.

He spoke, almost to himself. “You’re not Karin…”

You knew that name, it was your friend’s name. This was her pl—Shit, this wasn’t her place. You could scream.

“I’m Nanami Kento, and you’re in my bath. Who are you?”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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rollingsins · 8 months

Text

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass.

New York City is expensive.

College is expensive.

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city.

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces.

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks.

First it was the dishes.

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks.

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major.

It had nothing on the men.

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm.

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men.

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate).

But really, you’re not in the position to complain.

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least.

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign.

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.”

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.”

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way.

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.”

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised.

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless.

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat.

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring.

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here.

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.”

Tara’s tense against you.

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?”

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh.

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.”

And then it’s your turn to stare.

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones.

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes.

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated.

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour.

The conversation is over.

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly, it’s the only thing you can think about.

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later.

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn.

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered.

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food.

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard.

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?”

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.”

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm.

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.”

You furrow your brow.

“You think?”

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?”

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish.

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.”

Liv shoots him a look.

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.”

Chad’s eyes widen.

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!”

Liv gives you a look.

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.”

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits.

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself.

You’re starting to see it.

Quinn liked her conquests.

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara?

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend.

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play.

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests.

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn.

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago.

But it’s different now.

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.”

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear.

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

“Babe?” Tara prompts.

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true.

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder.

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms.

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point.

“And you hate gore movies.”

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie.

Tara furrows her brow.

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?”

You bite your lip.

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her.

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist.

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?”

Tara frowns.

“No weirder than usual.”

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.”

Tara shoots you a look.

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.”

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.”

It placates you for only a moment.

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being.

It’s just…

Quinn is pretty. So pretty.

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else?

And then the dread is back.

“It’s just… Liv said-“

Tara groans.

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.”

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed.

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips.

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.”

You do know that.

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom.

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to.

It doesn’t work.

Because of course, why would it work?

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend.

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described.

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.”

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way.

You fold your arms, unhappily.

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.”

Tara draws back, clearing her throat.

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.”

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe.

You know better.

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse.

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent.

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.”

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara.

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully.

“Sure.”

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started.

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored.

You’d been wrong.

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more.

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end.

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst.

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her.

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her.

And those sometimes become all you can think about.

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship.

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do.

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead.

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches.

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket.

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos.

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy.

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl.

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.”

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers.

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant.

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you.

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat.

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?”

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy.

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder.

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening.

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning.

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend.

It has to stop.

The solution?

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice.

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol.

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best.

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it.

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly.

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth.

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues.

It makes you stew.

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment.

But you resist.

Let her think she’s winning.

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet.

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory.

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction.

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?”

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand.

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes.

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep.

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.”

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed.

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it.

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates.

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner.

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused.

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop.

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.”

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.”

Quinn stares a moment.

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.”

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat.

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.”

Tara peers over at you, a little confused.

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it.

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders.

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers.

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.”

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering.

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips.

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy.

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.”

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing.

Bless her.

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend.

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.”

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation.

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes.

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.”

Tara nods.

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?”

Tara tilts her head.

“No.”

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left.

Made sure you’d seen it.

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep.

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly.

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.”

Tara frowns.

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed.

Then, she pouts.

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.”

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns.

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.”

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate.

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.”

Tara bites her lip.

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face.

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?”

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later.

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight.

You frown as Tara enters the room.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.”

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist.

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.”

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?”

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.”

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss.

“I love you. Only you.”

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn.

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together.

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim.

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her.

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.”

You sigh, unhappily.

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.”

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you.

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.”

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.”

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.”

And so you do.

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure.

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door.

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?”

You smile and kiss her.

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.”

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.”

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly.

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?”

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.”

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter.

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.”

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife.

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again.

Quinn looks over, catching your eye.

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her.

And then, she smiles.

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.”

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait.

And you fall for it.

Hook, line and sinker.

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red.

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?”

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking.

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition.

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair.

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you.

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-”

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?”

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!”

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances.

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her.

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might.

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?”

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor.

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.”

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.”

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.”

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.”

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Quinn blinks at her.

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.”

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it.

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again.

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.”

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing, her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her.

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens.

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.”

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her.

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?”

Quinn nods, solemnly.

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.”

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-”

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo.

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.”

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features.

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.”

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing.

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.”

“Baby-” Tara starts.

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.”

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss.

She’s trying to settle you down.

It works.

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.”

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“

Tara shushes you with another kiss.

Then she draws back, her voice soft.

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.”

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.”

Sam might mind.

But it’s really the least of your worries.

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest.

Tara squeezes your shoulders.

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.”

She eyes you, warily.

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.”

You frown.

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.”

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone.

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight.

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout.

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up.

You just want her gone.

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump.

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open.

And then you hear it.

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities.

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring.

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick.

You know that grunt.

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion.

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it.

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door.

But what you see isn’t what you expect.

You blink.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?”

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out.

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real.

But it’s very real.

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does.

The sound of your voice is her escape.

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble.

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?”

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.”

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks.

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Quinn’s breathing heavily.

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two.

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.”

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next.

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.”

Quinn doesn’t move.

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.”

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you.

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse.

She shoots you an angry glare.

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.”

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut.

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her.

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.”

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.”

She’s quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.”

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers.

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.”

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…”

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering.

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.”

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest.

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.”

“Oh.” You say with a frown.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.”

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.”

Tara hums. She leans in close against you.

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.”

Tara wrinkles her nose.

You laugh.

Lean down to kiss her, deep.

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think.

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

#ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #quinn bailey #mine #fanfic #all hers #jenna ortega x reader

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starryeyedjanai · 1 year

Text

bet.

steddie | 2.8k

read on ao3

Happy Birthday @wynnyfryd 🥰🥰🥰 I've had this idea floating around in my brain for a while now and seeing it was your birthday prompted me to finish it 💕

---

It's his first time in Indianapolis as an out bisexual, so of course Robin takes him to a gay club - to experience the drag queens and to see other queer people having fun, she says.

It's a little overwhelming, the bright lights and the music and the people. But he's having a great time, people watching and drinking virgin daiquiris and talking with Robin.

She's been here before - she came with Vickie when they were still together one weekend and they had a blast. So when Steve figured his sexuality shit out and came out to her, this was the first place she wanted to take him.

Now, he can see why. It's a haven of sorts. Gay men dancing together and kissing each other, gay women getting cozy in the booths, drag queen and drag kings about. He hasn't felt like he's belonged somewhere in a long time, but it kind of feels like he belongs here. The atmosphere is welcoming and kind.

They dance a little before everything gets overwhelming and then they find an empty booth to sit down and sip at their drinks in.

Robin keeps trying to encourage him to find someone to kiss so that they can call this night a success, but he keeps telling her that no one has caught his eye. And it's kind of true. He's seen some men that he thinks might be his type, but they're all paired up with men who look nothing like Steve. Even then, the few people that have caught his eye weren't right, somehow.

He keeps holding out, hoping to find someone that makes his heart skip a beat, or whatever the appropriate cliche for a gay club is.

And it. It happens.

He glances over at the bar as he's taking the last few sips of his drink, thinking about if he wants to brave the crowd at the bar, when he sees him.

His heart doesn't skip a beat, but he knows as soon as he lays eyes on him that he wants him. He's beautiful - and intimidating.

He's sitting facing away from the bar with his legs splayed open, ripped jeans revealing what looks like fishnet stockings underneath them. He's wearing a tank top that's showing off his many tattoos and Steve is struck with the urge to know what they taste like. His combat boots are clunky and could seriously kick someone's ass if they messed with him. His wavy hair is half tied up, a messy ponytail holding his hair out of his face, but the bottom half is freely falling past his shoulders.

He kind of feels like he's been bit by the love bug - he can't take his eyes off him.

He knows Robin is saying something to him, but he can't even hear it. It's all just background noise. He doesn't think he's ever been so captivated by someone before. He wants to put his mouth on him.

"Steve? Oh my god, stop ignoring me!" Robin says and snaps her fingers in front of his face, pulling him from his reverie. He looks over at her sheepishly.

"Sorry, Robbie," he says, looking back over at the guy briefly and yep, he's still just as hot as the first time he looked.

"What was that? Did you see someone you like? You looked like you blacked out for a minute there," she says, a smirk pulling at her lips.

He rolls his eyes. Of course she already knows - his type is people that look like they could stomp on him and he'd say thanks. "Black tank top, ripped jeans, at the bar. I think I'm in love," he says with a sigh. He's way too intimidated to go over there.

She squeals in his ear and says, "This is so exciting! You have to go kiss him now."

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not just gonna go up to a stranger and ask if he'll be my first gay kiss."

"And why not?" she asks, stirring her drink.

"Because that's insane," he says. "He's probably already got someone. He's, he's gorgeous. There's no way he's here alone." It's a shame, but it's probably true - he's way too good looking to be here alone.

"There's only one way to find out," Robin says. She leans forward and whispers in his ear, a challenge of sorts.

"You can't be serious," he says to her, questioning his own sanity for even entertaining her for one second.

She leans back in and whispers more into his ear and he groans.

"You're diabolical," he tells her, pulling back to smack a kiss on her forehead. He stands up and takes a deep breath before marching over to the bar. He can't believe he's doing this.

He marches right up to the guy and immediately every word in his vocabulary is gone. He's so fucking pretty.

"Um. Uh, hi," he says, stupidly.

The guy bites his lip and grins at him. He says, "Hi," back to him and Steve is literally going to die, he thinks. He couldn't see it from across the club before, but this guy has a lip piercing, and Steve wants to know what it feels like against his mouth so fucking bad.

"I need you to kiss me," he blurts out, trying not to cringe.

"You need me to, to kiss you?" the guy asks, and this was a bad idea, the worst idea Robin's ever had. There's no way he's going to agree to this.

"So, my friend-" he stops, looking back at Robin - she waves at them. He's trying so hard not to blush as he turns back to the guy and says, "She bet me that I couldn't get a guy to kiss me since it's my first time here. So I was wondering if you would kiss me, so I can win the bet." He's steeling himself for rejection, for this guy to tell him to fuck off or maybe have mercy and let him down gently by telling him he's taken.

But he just smiles, tilting his head at Steve. "Why me?"

"Hmm?" Steve asks.

"Why me?" the guy asks again. "Out of all the guys here, you picked me. Why?"

Steve sputters for a second. "You, I mean. You have to know how you look, right? Like, you're gorgeous."

He grins again, tonguing at his lip ring and Steve is so down bad for him, it's actually insane. "Okay," he says. "I'll accept that answer. Now, if you get your kiss, you win your bet, but what's in it for me?"

Steve is hoping that if he's still talking to him, that means he actually has a shot. He's feeling dizzy with how much he wants to kiss him. He really fucking hopes he can kiss him.

He says, "A kiss?" with what he hopes is a charming - and not at all maniacal - grin.

The guy snorts. Rude. He snorts at Steve and says, "I think I'll need a little more that that, don't you think, sweetheart?"

Steve nods dumbly, says, "I'll split my winnings with you. Would that work?"

He's not expecting it to work, is the thing. He doesn't expect him to say yes.

Which is why he's so surprised when he reaches out and tugs Steve closer by the collar of his shirt. He did not know being yanked around was his thing, but apparently it is because good god.

"That works for me," the guy says, eyes going molten as he looks at Steve.

He can't believe that worked. Holy shit.

He's. He's nervous, he realizes. He's had a lot of first kisses, been on many first dates that ended in him kissing someone unfamiliar. But this is nerve-wracking for him in a way it hasn't been before.

He lets the guy pull him in further by his collar, lets him control when the kiss happens.

The first press of their lips has Steve sighing and opening his mouth slightly, wanting more, wanting to taste him. He kisses him, lets himself be kissed really. He opens his mouth more when a tongue snakes out and presses into his mouth.

Steve's hands come up to pull him closer, to pull - fuck, he doesn't even know his name, yet. He's doing this all wrong. He meant to get his name before shoving his tongue down his throat.

But it's good, the feeling of soft lips pressed against his, the cold metal of his piercing pressing against his mouth, his tongue stroking over Steve's in a way that makes him wish they were alone, wish they weren't here surrounding by all these people. He wants to kiss him and keep kissing him until the breath runs out of his lungs. He wants to put his hands on him, to dip his fingers into the rips in his jeans and feel the rough fishnets against his fingertips.

He pulls his mouth away to gasp out, "What's your name?" because he needs to know, needs to have some connection, some thread to hold onto, to grasp as they're kissing.

"Eddie," he whispers against Steve's mouth. "What's yours?" Eddie asks. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

"Steve," he says before pressing his mouth against Eddie's again. He wants to kiss him forever. He never wants to stop. He wants Eddie to keep licking into his mouth like he owns it until the bartender yells out that it's last call. He wants Eddie to keep holding him like this until Robin drags him away as they turn the lights on in the club to kick everyone out. He wants, he wants, he wants.

He gets a hand tangled in Eddie's hair and gets their heads tilted right so that they can lick deeper into each other's mouths. It's burning him up inside, the way their tongues are sliding together, the way Eddie's licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue like he's trying to taste the daiquiri he was drinking earlier.

Eddie tastes like tobacco and something sweet, like he was drinking something sweet before Steve came up to him too. God, Steve wants to know everything about him - what's his go-to drink order, does he smoke, does he prefer beer over mixed drinks, is he seeing anyone, please don't be seeing anyone, god.

He feels desperate, he feels out of control. He wants Eddie to take him apart like he's never wanted anything else in his life. He wants those hands on him, wants to feel the rings on his fingers pressing marks into his skin. He want his hands gripping his hips, sliding down and touching him. He doesn't think he's ever wanted like this.

The only reason they break apart is because someone's elbow ends up in Steve's back and he ends up pushed further into the crease of Eddie's thigh. He feels him hard against him and he knows Eddie can feel how hard he is too. Fuck, it's like everything else faded away when Eddie's mouth was on his, but now that they're not kissing, he's suddenly achingly aware that he's hard in his incredibly tight pants after making out with Eddie for god knows how long.

His face is probably red and sweaty, but Eddie's still looking at him like he wants him and god, does he want him back.

But he pulls back a little, puts some space between their hips because he quite literally can't ditch Robin here go hook up with Eddie, no matter how much he wants to.

He bites his lip and pulls his hand back, the one that was tangled in Eddie's long hair. He puts it on Eddie's chest and asks, "Was that okay?" because he thinks he knows the answer, but it never hurts to hear it.

Eddie huffs out a laugh and says, "Was that okay, he asks. Sweetheart, I think you and I both know that was something on a completely different realm from just okay."

If Steve wasn't blushing before, he definitely is now. He says, "Good, good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

Eddie leans close like he's going to kiss him again. He brushes his lips against Steve's in a dry press - barely a kiss, but it has Steve aching all the same anyway. He drags his mouth along his jaw, just mouthing at it, and it's the hottest thing Steve's ever felt.

He whispers in Steve's ear, "Your friend is trying really hard to get your attention right now," and that pulls Steve right back down to earth.

He pulls away again and turns around to see Robin waving her arms at him. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows at her. She waves her hand at him, beckoning him back to their table so he holds up a finger to tell her to hold the fuck on.

He turns back around and says, "I think I'm being summoned. As much as I want to stay and as much as I, like, desperately want to keep kissing you, I should get back to my friend."

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the bar and Steve can't help the way his eyes sweep over him again. Eddie's smirking when he looks back up at him.

"That's fair," Eddie says. "So, what did we win?"

Steve makes a questioning sound, before he remembers what Eddie's talking about. He sheepishly brings a hand up to swipe his hair out of his face where its begun to stick to his forehead. "Oh, uh, about that. There never really was a bet."

"Really?" Eddie asks, leaning forward again into Steve space, like that's the most interesting thing he's heard all night.

Steve shakes his head. "I promised half of the winnings, but the winnings are zero, so half of zero is still zero, you know?"

Eddie grins at him and says, "You're kind of devious, you know that? Here I was, thinking I'd get a prize at the end of that kiss."

"Sorry for getting your hopes up, but I mean, it was a good kiss, right?" Steve asks, boldly leaning forward to press his mouth against Eddie's again. Eddie lets him, lets Steve kiss him, softer than before. Before it was all new and exciting and hot, and it still is, but this kiss is tender, pulling a gasp from Steve's lips when they separate.

"It was a good kiss," Eddie agrees, pecking him on the lips again, soft and sweet.

"Can I have your number?" Steve asks, trying to be brave for once. He got Eddie to kiss him, even if it was under less than truthful circumstances, but he hopes it was good enough to warrant a call back.

"Your friend, is she seeing anyone?" Eddie asks, and Steve's head is kind of spinning at the redirection there.

"She and her girlfriend broke up a couple months ago. Why?" he asks, wondering where this is going. If this guy is actually somehow straight and only kissed him to get with Robin, Steve's gonna lose it.

"I'll tell you what, if you can convince your friend to kiss my friend, you can have my number," Eddie says, gesturing to the girl that's been sitting next to him at the bar this entire time.

And- oh. Oh god, he's embarrassed.

Has she just been awkwardly sitting there while Eddie made out with him? He was half a second away from dry humping Eddie and his friend was sitting there patiently waiting for them to stop. That's embarrassing.

She's cute - she's got this whole cheery, bubblegum vibe to her that didn't make Steve glance twice at her once he had his eyes set on Eddie because the two of them are kind of polar opposites. He didn't think they were here together.

His eyes shift back and forth between them and she waggles her fingers at him in a wave, smirking at his caught out look.

"Chrissy," she says, sticking out her hand to shake Steve's. He's kind of intimidated by her too, but he's got to hand it to her - he doesn't think even Robin would sit through him making out with someone right next to her. He guesses he does kind of owe it to both her and Robin. He and Eddie were making out for a while.

"Steve," he says, lamely. "Sorry for making out with your friend right next to you. Um, I'm gonna go grab Robin now."

They both watch him as he leaves, which makes his skin prickle and his heartbeat speed up. He makes a beeline back to Robin and lets her coo at him for a minute about having his first gay kiss.

She's talking a mile a minute asking about how it was, if he got his number, when Steve interrupts her.

"Bobbin, you are not gonna believe this," he says, and when he's got her attention, he continues, "I think I just found you a girlfriend?"

#janai.doc #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #st fic #steve harrington x eddie munson

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oneatlatime · 5 months

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The Tales of Ba Sing Se PART 2

The Tale of Zuko

Maybe I should make a Zuko's Stupid Faces post.

Zuko and Iroh's whole dynamic in one frame.

This girl is cute. Total girl next door type. She does have fairly horrible taste in men, but she's also very cute.

I just want to take a minute to point out a VERY important distinction. Zuko is not going out on a date. Zuko is not taking a girl out on a date. A girl is taking Zuko out on a date. She's got that arm in a death grip. Not only is that a clever reversal of the usual hetero dynamic, but I'm convinced it's the only way Zuko would ever get any action, so it's also in character.

I know Zuko's social skills are non-existent, but apart from the blow up at the waiter he is actually trying. He's failing, but I have to give him points for trying.

The way this girl's voice actress says "You juggled" made my ears very happy. And the beleaguered "yes. I juggled." is equally good.

Zuko! Tell her you did sword stuff! That's something you can actually do!

It gives me hope that someone so steeped in the most toxic parts of the Fire Nation, for so long, can STILL be so bad at lying, but it would certainly be a handy skill right about now.

I take it back. This girl does have good taste in men. Zuko's such a softie when it counts. He still sucks at being normal, but he just risked his identity because the girl he didn't even plan to go out with was a little bit sad.

This girl is the best.

Ha! He kissed her back! He Did! I saw that!

I take back what I took back. Zuko's evil again. He made my new favourite girl droop.

I love that Iroh's waiting up for him while making it look like he isn't waiting up for him. How many times on their ship, when Zuko was out Blue Spiriting, do you think Iroh found a reason to be randomly sat on the deck at 3 am?

Character development baby! Can you really call yourself loyal to the fire nation if you admit to having a good time on a date with an Earth Kingdom girl?

The Tale of Momo

Pretty.

That was a FILTHY bait and switch. For one shining moment, I had Appa back.

They should take that to June.

Not Appa.

Also not Appa.

I did not have 'Momo gets gaslit' on my Avatar Bingo card. Nor did I have 'interspecies animal friendship angst.'

Are these cat things the raccoons of the Avatar universe? Or the squirrels? Urban scroungers?

I love the idea that this guy just grabs the closest squirrel, sticks a hat on it, and expects it to dance. He got lucky with Momo.

I thought they were taking the animals to the pound, but this is very much a butcher. Which means that in Ba Sing Se, they eat varmint. Stay away from the hot dog carts.

That's very effective Simglish.

Thank god for thumbs.

Aw they're friends! This has Aristocats vibes, when O'Malley and the girl cat are getting together near the end.

And one final Fuck You, because god forbid Momo's tale ends on a happy note.

I'm guessing that's an Appa print, but couldn't it also be a platypus bear?

Something about the cats standing vigil over Momo's grief gets to me.

Final thoughts

I'll go through each of these stories individually, but first some general comments.

Last episode was kind of intense, and definitely ended on a downer (not that this one didn't), so it was a good call to at least start this episode off on something a bit gentler.

I was really impressed with the soundtrack throughout. Apart from the Tale of Momo where it's the animal noises that are front and centre, the music is doing a lot of work in every story, the strings especially. The strings are doing emotional work, plot stuff, and even humour. Seriously, next time you rewatch this episode, pay attention to the strings. These shorts are actually very light on dialogue (apart from Sokka's), but they don't feel that way because the music is doing the talking.

I'm assuming that this all took place over three days at least, since Iroh, Zuko, and Momo's tales seem to end on different evenings. So I don't think calling this episode 'day in the life' is accurate. My bad. It also occurs to me that this kind of episode format would be a great way of showing time has passed. If they had had an episode like this in the Northern Water Tribe - after Katara beat the crap out of Poophead but before the Fire Nation attacked - I would have liked the pacing of the whole finale arc better.

On to the stories!

The Tale of Toph and Katara

It might be because I didn't understand what this episode was doing yet, but this one didn't do much for me. It was good to see Toph have a moment of self-doubt, but I never would have assumed, based on her previous behaviour, that her appearance was her proverbial weak spot. Katara did a really good job at building her back up, and she was delightfully (and appropriately) understated for once. When she's reassuring Aang of something (especially in Season 1) Katara tends to got from 0 to 60 very quickly, so it was nice to see her be reassuring in a quiet, non-steamrolling way. Is this Katara character development? Apart from the fact that Toph quite literally got her eyeballs sanded, nothing much in this episode stuck out to me. Except those bitchy voices. Those were like knives in my brain.

The Tale of Iroh

So many questions! Is Lu Ten buried in Ba Sing Se? How is that grave not defaced yet? How did Iroh get a copy of his son's picture? They lost everything at the North Pole, right? Did he ask the people who got him their passports for a picture of his son too? Does Zuko know/remember that it's his cousin's birthday? If so, why isn't he there offering Iroh the world's most awkward hug? Given the fact that Iroh spent the whole day helping people, including a very misguided youth, and given that Iroh says something along the lines of "if only I could have helped you [his son]" does this imply that Lu Ten was going through a crisis at the time of his death? Was he misguided like the wannabe mugger? Is Zuko not the first Fire Nation Prince that Iroh has had to guide through an identity/existential crisis? Is Zuko going to be the first time Iroh succeeds at guiding a Fire Nation prince through an identity/existential crisis? Does Iroh live in perpetual fear of failing Zuko the way he seems to believe he failed his son? Am I reading too much into this?

To be quite honest, this story would have hit me harder if I had remembered going into it that Iroh had a son. Lu Ten takes being a textual ghost to a whole new level. Also the 'In honor of Mako' text confused me. And worried me a little.

The Tale of Aang

I liked this one! Aang can't help Appa at the moment, but he can help all the Appa stand ins who aren't fortunate enough to have an Aang to help them. Aang is a nice little boy! Of course he'd free a bunch of animals without thinking about the consequences and the epic pile of platypus bear dung he's just landed the zookeeper in with the Dai Li. I liked the animal designs. I liked the earthbending. I liked the Siamese cat representation. I loved cabbage man. I think that, if Appa could have known, he would have approved. I also think that I'm once again reading too much into this. it was nominally a fun fluff piece elaborating on a established emotional conflict (Appa missing), which gave it just enough weight to be slightly more than a fluff piece.

The Tale of Sokka

I am entirely serious when I say that 'poetry bouncer' is my favourite joke so far in the WHOLE show. I love absurdity played entirely earnestly. It's fridge funny too. The longer I contemplate the implications, the funnier it gets. What past event required a poetry bouncer be introduced? He's not there to protect the students or the teacher; he's here to reinforce the structure of the Haiku by force. Was he hired by the concept of Haiku? Is Haiku taken so seriously in Ba Sing Se that he's needed to break up cat fights between students? There is a rich well of haiku-related hijinks just hinted at by his presence, and I want to know more.

Sokka is so often his own worst enemy that it makes sense that he's taken out by his own hubris. That fortune teller lady was absolutely a crook, but she did one hell of an accurate cold read on Sokka.

The Tale of Zuko

Credits tell me that the girl's name is Jin. I would like to congratulate the creators of Avatar for managing to illustrate romantic interest so palpably without resorting to heart eyes and steam whistle noises. Nothing wrong with those; I'm just impressed by how much of Jin's interest in Zuko you can feel. Also, she'd better be more than a single episode character, because I need more of this sweetheart. She's a real contender for displacing Toph as my favourite girl in the cast.

To be fair to Zuko, he did make Jin droop (UNFORGIVABLE), but it was also the right call. He can't date her honestly. It IS complicated. And I don't think any Earth Kingdom girl (worth dating) would knowingly go out with Fire Nation royalty. Jin wanted Lee the Tea Boy. Try as he might, Zuko can't stop being Zuko. I would argue that he shouldn't stop being Zuko. His flashback mom told him not to forget who he was, so I'd also argue that the narrative doesn't want Zuko to stop being Zuko either. I guess it's a case of right girl, wrong time. It looks like she's cool with him being a firebender, but firebending and being the Fire Lord's son are not the same magnitude of hurdle to dating. Maybe when the war's over they can hook up again.

The Tale of Momo

I think this qualifies as cruelty to the audience. I got the impression that this story was crafted borderline maliciously, to make the viewers suffer angst dump after angst dump.

I liked seeing things from Momo's perspective. I loved the animal noises, which really got across a shocking amount of emotion. Those, combined with body language, were as effective as any spoken script. These cartoon people really know how to use their medium.

It absolutely kills me that Momo is missing Appa, and since he doesn't understand human speech, he can't even be comforted by knowing that his humans are actively looking for him. If you've ever seen one of your pets missing another of your pets in real life, you know there's nothing worse than the helplessness that comes with not being able to explain or magically summon their friend back from the kennel, or the vet, or the dead. All you can do is give them hugs. I'm glad that Momo got a street cat support group at the end of the episode, but the animal grief at the beginning was hard to get through. It's sweet to have confirmation that Momo sees Appa as family, but surely they could have showed that to us in a way that doesn't make me need to hug the stuffing out of my own pets?

Final Final Thoughts for real this time

This episode wrings you out a little. Fully a third of the stories are about Appa, despite him not being there. At least half are about missing someone who isn't there. At least half are bittersweet.

I liked this episode format. I hope they use it again next season. Only Toph and Katara's tale felt too short to me. The rest did such a good job at drawing me in, that when I went back to check timestamps I was surprised by how short these stories are.

I'm going to go eat too much chocolate.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the tales of ba sing se

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whole-circus · 11 months

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Creepypastas as stereotypical horror movie characters!

➥ with Jeff The Killer, Homicidal Liu, Masky, Ben Drowned, Sally Williams, Eyeless Jack, Nina The Killer, "Ticci" Toby, Jane The Killer From horror movies lover to innocent souls! >:3

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

☆ Jeff The Killer

Hear me out - Jock of the group. You know, this "manly men", who would bully you in a free time if he is not playing in football (or other balls hehe). Absolute jerk! Laughs at the rest of the group for being afraid. Act like he is not scared at all and often curse at the killer, saying that he will beat his ass - on the inside tho? He is shaking from fear! Propably would die as one of the first :)

☆ Homicidal Liu

He would be a tragic hero, the one had normal life but shit happend. Have a high chance of surviving but propably sacrifies himself, so others could live. But if he survive? Oh my, at what cost? All of his friends are dead, everything he loved is now ruined..but hey, maybe he can monetize his traumatic experience to pay for therapy!

☆ Masky

Totally the responsible and a bit sceptic at first one. Initially, he doesn't really believe what others are saying. Thinks that others are going crazy or just doing pranks. He is sure everything can be explained! The one to be smart enough to outstand the killer and he maintain to be calm. And just tired from babying therest of the group. For some reason, he would mostly die anyway..propably on silly way, that angers audience.

☆ Ben Drowned

The stoner one..The guy that is almost always high and also can be a comic relief! The best character to put your guard down, with him on the screen you will almost forgot what you watch! Well, maybe until someone get killed..He also make the stupidest jokes - but come on, we love them! Someone gets stabbed? Bleeds? Haha look - period! Oh man..the killers attacks? Nah, he can wait - its time to get high! Dies in the most stupid way (propably not from killers hands) or! survives! - we have no idea how.

☆ Sally Williams

She is the scary kid! You remeber Grady twins from Shining? She is both of them! At the same time! Propably will be seen as innocent and cute, you just want to protects her..But dont be fooled by her sweet apperance! If you are not careful, you cant blame her for standing at your bed with knife in the middle of the night! Sally would scare the shit out of viewers. Lights suddenly goes out? Oh man.. We can see that coming!

☆ Eyeless Jack

What a nice and quiet fellow...No way he could be a killer! Jack is definitely the quiet one who turns out to be a killer. Always sweet, always caring - propably besties with the main character. He helps hiding from the killer, setting traps and trying to find clues to discover identity of main antagonist. Just wait till the end, when the identify of masked killer will be uncovered! He is also the perfect type to be a masked slasher becasue well..he is hot, alright?

☆ Nina the Killer

Hot, joyful, a bit too naive and in mini skirt! There she is! The bimbo one! Propably the best friend of the final girl. Have no idea what is going on..but hopes she will flirt her way out of killers hands! Of course the most fanserviced one, if the horror have sex or pool scenes, she is in. In the first 5 minutes of the movie you will see her boobs. Won't run becasue she dont want to ruin her shoes. We all love her but lets be honest - she will die first.

☆ "Ticci" Toby

Every movie need the crybaby one, this one character that will be scared of anything - his shadow included. Will never ever want to split up, he would put the handcuffs on the whole group if he could. A scary noise? In the middle of the night? Oh hell no, lets pretend that nothing happened and stay in safe room. All the wacthers have enough of him! Please, just let this guy die... Despite his fearful spirit, he has a high chance to come from this nightmare alive (sadly for audience).

☆ Jane the Killer

Badass girls, who doesn't love them? Also pretty and smart? Can fight?? Thats her, thats the final girl! Bravely fights till the end. Her will to live is way stronger than killer hands. Will try to help everybody make it, but at the end all her friends are dead anyways. Well..at least the blood suits her. Propably will live a somehow calm yet traumatized life, well until the next part of movie!

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

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partyanimal167 · 6 months

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The New Guy- Shanks x F!Reader

Okay! So I finally finished my Crocodile fic that took me forever to write. SO~ my drafts are empty, and I'm writing this as a result of my dilf poll. I haven't written for Shanks so I'm interested to see how this is going to go... (EDIT: now posting months later lol)

CW: modern au, black fem reader in mind, mdni

That's a grown-ass man, me. Leave him alone. You're making up shit in your head.

You were just minding your business at work. You had been there for a little over a year and getting comfortable in your assistant manager position. You were a bit young for the role, but you were confident in most of your abilities.

It was a Monday morning , and everyone seemed to be on their toes. For weeks, there was talk of a corporate level director that was going to be helping out for a while. It wasn't for your department, but one that you worked with often. You didn't stress it really.

But that Monday tiredness hit you hard because you really shouldn't have slipped on that small puddle in the lobby. Your life flashed before you, and you tensed in anticipation for the hot coffee cup in your hand to soak your blouse and burn your skin.

However, that never occurred.

The man gave you a warm smile and wink before setting you back on your feet. You thanked him and walked away quickly to run from the embarrassment.

You fell back into gentle strong arms and a face that reminded you of the men who bought your friends drinks and never asked for anything in return. The ones who you would giggle and whisper about.

You were typing away at your desk when you heard the commotion approaching and saw a small group of people walking around and chatting. You joined your manager by their desk and asked about it.

"The corporate guy is here." The group arrived, and you saw the handsome man from earlier.

The group stopped by and introduced him. You exchanged introductions and figured that would be all.

That was not all.

In your mind, corporate meant uptight and strictly professional.

Shanks was silly, a flirt, and somehow found a way to be in your department every day, multiple times a day.

Soon enough, you loosened up enough to the point where you dished out sly remarks about Shank's age and shitty game when he was making another comment about the boyfriend you kept telling him you didn't have.

You didn't think that much of him until one day he rushed out of the office, and no one knew why. Until you heard that he bought a last-minute ticket to check in on his daughter who was sick in the hospital. You realized that Shanks had his own priorities and responsibilities so of course he wasn't just an old flirt. It was...attractive--you guessed.

You brought him a coffee when he came back and asked how he and his daughter was doing. It was a simple gesture. You left it at that.

He didn't.

Soon, you were starting to get some more recognition for your efforts at work and were invited to an appreciation dinner with some other people--including Shanks.

He praised you for your work, and maybe it was the alcohol but the words made you melt and softened.

So the two of you got drinks afterwards.

And maybe your hands weren't to yourself, but Shanks didn't say anything.

Work went on like normal...kind of. You couldn't stop yourself from getting flustered when that old man stopped by and flirted with you. You couldn't stop the impure thoughts of how Shanks was so unserious but could handle business--professional and personal.

And it was oh so hard to keep quiet when you were getting showered in praises and kissed everywhere in the supplies closet because it was hard for Shanks too. He needed to show how good he could make you feel and how he couldn't resist you.

But don't worry. Even if you struggle at work with him, Shanks will bring you over and let you make as much noise as possible.

The new guy was really trouble.

#one piece #one piece x reader #shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #fem reader #black fem reader #modern au #mine #partyanimal167

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blkchainsaws · 11 months

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way way back in the 1980s

modern au!hanatengu clones and their high school experience.

content warning: brat's dumbass headcanons, drabble, mentions of fighting, a bit suggestive on the first part?, mentions of cheating, karaku is a manwhore

i may(MAYBE) update this as time goes on

brat's says...title from the clone high theme cause, clones, high school, get it?

a group of quadruplets. they're extremely popular in their school.

All four of them are extremely popular with the girls, but there is a ranking list between the girls at their high school. It goes, Aizetsu, Karaku, Urogi and Sekido. All the girls like Aizetsu due to his timid, sensitive nature. He is unaware of this and all his brothers are mad that he doesn't realize it.

Karaku is second, he is rated highly for his looks and his flirty personality. However, with this, he is seen as very easy and alot of girls only want one thing from him, which he doesn't mind.

Urogi is third cause while he is hot and funny, he is extremely loud and quite annoying. He doesn't realize this and if we're being honest, he wouldn't care.

Sekido. He's ranked last cause he's literally angry and snappy to everyone. When the girls ranking list got leaked, everyone was afraid he would lash out at being ranked last. He was more mad that his brothers one upped him on the rankings than everyone else, so most of his anger was directed towards them. The brothers rub it in any chance they get.

worst boyfriends ever

Sekido or Karaku are Heartbreakers. Do not trust these men with your heart they will crush it and step on it.

Sekido has a reputation of being distant and cold to his partners, or dumping them randomly. All girls avoid him after his last breakup ended with his ex moving away to avoid him.

Karaku is notorious for messy breakups. The only girls that will date him are either from other high schools or new girls that come to his school. The messiest breakup he was in involved him cheating for 3 months, on his girlfriend of 5 months. Both girls got into a fight in which one pulled out a knife. When he was confronted all he said was "My bad."

Aizetsu and Urogi haven't had any long-term relationships. They can't make it out the talking stage.

WORLDSTARRRR

Sekido. Straight up. There's countless videos of him fighting at school. He's won every fight. He also fights his brothers, but that's more of a play fighting type of deal.

He will fight for his brothers. You got an issue with one of his brothers, you got an issue with him.

"party at our place! ladies get in free, guys gotta pay."

insane. house. parties.

Urogi and Karaku love to host parties and invite anyone who is anyone. Every party has ended with the cops being called due to noise complaints or everyone running cause the cops showed up.

Their parents haven't caught on yet.

speaking of parents...

They have a super nice foster mother. she adopted all four of them along with their little brother Zohakuten. She's a hard working nurse that loves her boys so much and they love her as well. She wants the best for her boys and always encourages them to do their best.

let me see that report card.

Sekido and Aizetsu are top of their classes. Aizetsu was acknowledged as the top student at his school. When called for his reward he accepted it awkwardly and started purposefully failing so he wouldn't be the center of attention anymore.

Sekido is smart and calculated, but he tends to get frustrated when he cannot understand certain questions or lectures, he refuses to be tutored. His last tutor was Aizetsu but they got into a disagreement over a question that ended with a huge fight and a hole in their shared room.

Urogi and Karaku are...troubled. Urogi makes the worst grades, and Karaku doesn't even try.

athletic af

These boys are athletic. Every sport they try they dominate.

Sekido does football, Karaku does basketball, Urogi does track, and Aizetsu doesn't participate in school sports, but he is amazing at basketball.

These boys are the reason their school is on the map for their school teams.

pranksters and interviews

Urogi and Karaku.

You know those youtubers that walk up to you and interview you? "What's the freakiest thing you did?" They do shit like this to get a reaction out of people. They have been reported many times for it.

They're the reason students get routine bag checks. They once pulled a prank with a homemade stink bomb in a closed class room. No one found it funny, not even them.

what does everyone truly think?

euthanize all of them except for aizetsu

#[🦋] drabble.fic #demon slayer #kny drabble #hantengu clones #kimetsu no yaiba #aizetsu #karaku #sekido #kny urogi #kny aizetsu #kny sekido #kny karaku #demon slayer drabble #drabble

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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 1 month

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messier // one

Tell me, tell me, something that I don't know already cause baby, you can talk in circles for hours, make a good day sour

I woke up around 9am on my day off, feeling the sunshine through my window. My body cracked and popped as I stretched before rolling out of bed. I was so drained from my last set of shifts that all I wanted to do was lay in bed, but I had practice in an hour. I made my way down to the kitchen, poured myself some coffee before I sat down with my sister Olivia. Her brown hair was up in a messy bun and she wore workout gear, probably off to another pilates class.

My sister and I were complete opposites. She was quite girly and loved everything pink, I preferred purple and watching sports. While her hair was a nice chocolate brown, I dyed mine jet black all the time. Her skin was golden with freckles while mine was freckled and kissed with tattoos. She’d ask me to wear a dress and I’d wear one…as long as I could wear it with a pair of vans. Only thing we shared was our bright green eyes and sarcastic attitudes. “Are you going to eat?” “Nah.” I yawned, “I’ll eat after practice.” “I don’t know how you can practice on an empty stomach. I’d be throwing up halfway through.” “You just learn to keep it down.” Olivia laughed as I took a sip of my coffee. “What’s on the schedule today?” “Nothing really, Carson has practice tonight at 7pm.” She replied before a deep groan escaped her, “I can’t stand the new assistant coach he has this season though.”

My eyebrow raised, I had seen so many new people at the rink lately so I had wondered if I had run into them yet. “Who is it again?”

“Ugh, his name is Matt or Mark I can’t remember.” Olivia said rolling her eyes, making me chuckle a little bit. When she didn’t like someone she wasn’t scared to express it. “He plays on his own team and I guess he’s in a band now so I can tell he doesn’t really care. He’s been hard on Carson for no reason.”

“I can take him today if you want? I’ll gladly give this guy a piece of my mind if he starts anything.” I offered as I finished my coffee. I wasn’t about to let some moron be a bully to my nephew.

Olivia licked her lips as she flashed her eyes at me, gearing up for backhanded comment. “Not sure how helpful you’ll be because he’s definitely your type...he’s an asshole.”

“That used to be my type.” I protested but she just got up and shook her head at me. I had to admit, men who had big ego’s and were total douchebags used to drive me crazy. It had also been so long since I’ve been attracted to a man so I have no idea what my type is now. Dating hasn’t crossed my mind once since I moved here.

“Okay, I’ll see if that still holds true after you see him.” I rolled my eyes and went to get ready for practice. I threw on some leggings, a white tank top with a Dallas Stars hoodie over it. I said goodbye to Olivia before I stuffed my feet into my slides before heading out to my car. For the first time in a while I was dreading practice. Part of me just wanted to stay home and say I was sick but, I had this gut feeling that I should go anyway.

Fuck, I wish I stayed home.

The rink was busy when I got there, and a little too loud for my liking. Normally the noise level didn’t bother me, but it was louder than usual. We usually practice when the kids were in school so I was confused why it was so full for a Friday. I turned towards the dressing room and saw all the girls standing outside of it with their gear. None of them looked happy at all. “What’s going on?” “One of the boys teams didn’t get the memo we have practice now so they’re taking their time leaving.” Stacie replied looking at her watch. “I told Taylor to not say anything, but she did anyway…so now we’re paying for it.” “Who is it?” I asked as I mentally listed all the teams who played here. “The spitfires. They have some new guy who ditched his other team to join them. He’s …” “Hot?” Stacie shook her head, “kinda, but he’s such a dick. He coaches one of the bantam teams and he’s also in a band.” As I was about to reply to her all the guys walked out, looking us up and down. One of these had to be Carson’s coach. I felt uncomfortable getting stared at like I was a piece of meat so I crossed my arms over my chest. They all left one by one but the last guy came walking out like he owned the place, causing a chorus of eye rolls from all of us. My breath hitched as he got closer to me and our eyes locked, making me realize they were brown with flecks of gold. His light brown hair was tucked under a hat, just sitting below his shoulders. I didn’t care for men with long hair, but his was doing something to me.

Fuck he was hot.

“Nice hoodie.” My eyes flashed down to my hoodie and back over to him, noticing he was wearing the same one. My face grew hot watching him take a final look at me before walking away.

“See what I mean?” “Yeah…total dick.” I muttered but I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I watched him until he was out of my sight, walking into the dressing room knowing I’d be focused on anything but hockey.

#fanfic #bad omens #matt dierkes

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demonbanger · 1 year

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𝖇𝖆𝖇𝖞 𝖎'𝖒 𝖆 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 | 18+

/ feat: obi from fire force / fluff & smut / enjoy <3

♡ pairing: obi akitaru x fem! reader

♡ summary: a cashier turns into a burning demonic infernal as you just want to get some work done at the cafe. luckily your date, the fire captain of fire force company 8, comes to your rescue and takes care of you, in more ways than one.

♡ c/w: hurt -> comfort, slow buildup, raw sex (use a condom!), hints of mating press, mild choking, pussy slapping, rough sex, captain kink, daddy kink, size kink, reader is called “princess” and gets babied a little, two horny idiots thirsting after each other the whole time who are secretly in love

♡ suggested songs: 🎧 I’m a firefighter by cigarettes after sex / rosemary by deftones

——————————————————————————

You weren't expecting this. you weren't expecting any of this.

-- just fifteen minutes ago, 4:00 PM--

you were in one of your favorite outfits, feeling elegant and comfortable. you wore swooshy wide-legged pants and heeled boots that dangled as you sat in a tall chair. fun earrings dancing in the air each time you moved your head. brown-tinted glitter lip gloss lightly marking where you sipped on the hand-painted sage green mug. a sight to behold in the cafe. quiet, focused, charming in your own way.

you swirled a biscotti in your hot beverage and sucked on it before taking a bite of the softened part of the crunchy pastry and taking your first cautious sip of the drink.

it scalded the parts of your tongue that it touched, but you appreciated the pain, masochist that you were.

burning a hot trail down your throat, making its way down the esophageal tunnel, into your stomach. like a hot soup on a cold winter day.

your laptop was open. too many tabs open, frankly, for the project you were working on.

letting the noise of people's deep conversations and small talk fuel you to focus on productivity. you tuned their words out a little, now, as you scanned the message on the five-minute break you allowed yourself, over and over, butterflies fluttering in your coffee-filled stomach.

the handsome fire-fighter your friend set you up on a date with, Obi Akitaru, yes, the Obi Akitaru, was asking you out for a third date.

"Hey, beautiful. I hope you're having a good day. I know it's a bit early to ask, but I'd love to make us dinner at mine tonight, let me know. I can pick you up. x"

How could you say no to that? Usually men tried to take you right home from the club, or treat you as a booty-call after only asking for your social media with no real conversation going anywhere. Just a quick fuck. Not like you cared about that part--they just weren't even being creative in asking.

This man, on the other hand, caused heat to flush in your ears. Made you feel ways you haven't felt since having crushes in high school. Said and did everything that made your mind and body say "yes, just yes." You guys haven't even physically kissed yet and you loved how slow he took this--he saw you for the person you were. He made you remember that maybe romance wasn't actually dead in this day and age.

You bit back a smile--he had called you beautiful-- and typed,

"Hi handsome. I'd love to. I'll bring my favorite sake for you to try. See you later, have a good day too, okay? :)"

Not too long after you sent that, you saw a notification flicker in the upper-right corner of your screen. He hearted your message.

Another notification;

"Yay :)) I will now!!"

The way the giant man didn't even hide his warm excitement did something to your heart. He didn't play games. It made you less wary, unlike more than half of your dating history. To be fair, your friends did vouch for the guy, saying he was such a wholesome sweetheart, but you were still scared. What if it was just a front?

You always gave the nice guys a chance, but they'd turn out to be actual demonic entities in still-human bodies, you were convinced, and try to make you feel crazy for not taking their shit. You tried to do your healing and allow yourself to be vulnerable again, albeit behind a wall of glass first, but this guy was so damn attractive, and that in itself was kind of intimidating. Plus, he was the bravest kind of man out there. A part of the Fire Force.

When he took you out, though, you couldn't help but feel something different about him that set him apart. You felt safe. You felt like you could just be you fully and not have to mask for the first-date formalities. He gave you fucking flowers, complimented the little details of how you styled yourself, complimented your personality, not your body.

A sudden shift in the atmosphere brought you out of your sweet dreamy haze and back to earth. It felt like you were falling in a dream and suddenly awoke, nerves racing when you were supposed to land. It was an uneasy feeling...

And you weren't the only one.

It was quiet. Even with the cafe music playing, it felt uncomfortable.

Then suddenly a hiss sounded.

And afterward came the little gasps. A portion of the ceiling lit up a yellow-orange color, and right below it, the cashier had become an Infernal in the middle of calling out the latte they were handing out.

The smart people ran out the building out of true self-preservation. Some called for the Fire Force. You were...frozen while packing your things, heart pounding as shrieking filled your ears. You were tough and driven, but not prepared for combat or Infernal situations. This wasn't in your line of expertise. You were all just civilians.

The infernal was approaching a woman and her baby, who were farthest from the exit.

Something in you clicked, and just like that you realized, you really didn't give a fuck how afraid you were. Your vision was shaky from the adrenaline and you barely felt your body running as you somehow appeared right behind the Infernal. You opened your water bottle and splashed it right onto the Infernal, making it pause.

Large patches extinguished from the water, hissing louder than dumplings sizzling in oil-coated frying pans.

"RUN!!! Just go!!! Don't worry about me!!" you ordered the woman, who nodded gratefully, very wisely grabbed her car keys, and booked it with her sobbing infant, flashing you an apologetic look.

This was a cashier, one who had a life and seemed so kind, did nothing to deserve this, and had everything taken away in an instant. You took a moment to mourn for the cashier, whose corpse was never given a chance to rest after...well, yeah, its death.

The Infernal that remained did not care. Cutesy little pins -- like the Cinnamaroll and Mitski pins you complimented earlier-- on its burning apron juxtaposed with the flames coming from all orifices of the distorted face. The charred face looked like it was in agony but also like all of its memories were replaced with hellish bloodlust.

Little tendrils of flame suddenly re-appeared from the extinguished portions, and you got goosebumps as you saw its head slowly turn to you.

Its blazing attention was right on you. A searing pain entrapped your shoulders, like burning your scalp with a hair straightener--except this was so, so much worse. You gasped and tried to kick the thing away on impulse, but it was inhumanly fast, and hurled you to the wall. You flew right onto a table and chairs, metal and wood bringing searing pain that was sure to bruise. Somehow you were okay, though.

Those who were still in the cafe tried to fight off the Infernal, but it was wreaking utter havoc. The delicious aroma of roasted coffee beans blended with the acrid scent of singed hair, burning clothes, and no--please, it can't be-- burning skin. The charming little green plants around the cafe were converted into little bonfires.

Ever the greeter, the Infernal was right in front of the entrance, too. Smoke made your eyes feel dry, and there was a sharp pain in your lungs.

_____________________

—PRESENT TIME—

And here you are. You weren't planning for any of this today.

You hold your breath and try to think of what to do. You're trapped with an otherworldly creature that was just a kind person who took your drink order. Who didn't deserve any of this. Your shoulders are somehow not even second-degree burned as if by some miracle by Sol. You can say that the worst injury is a favorite shirt being forever ruined. But others aren't able to say the same.

A man hugging his boyfriend who is badly burned, telling him everything will be ok. A son in tears, screaming at the infernal not to touch his mom.

For a second you feel a fleeting thought. What if you die here?

So far there haven't been any casualties, save for the Infernal, but you're terrified.

You want to live. You want to see..how everything pans out. Because what if it does all work out? What happy experiences does life have in store for you that you have yet to discover?

To have a baby to keep safe, just like that mother, no matter how scary and dark this world has become. You... want to take the risk.

In the fire, the smoke, and the ashes, you tug your blouse over your nose and mouth to hopefully filter some air. Your stinging eyes fill with tears--tears coming from the resolve to actually live.

Slowly, you get your crumpled form back up.

You want to live to maybe even see Mr Hot Fireman.

His bravery. His ability to face death every day. The way he trains every morning, building thick tree trunk arms to carry people, save them. The same arms that brought you into a warm, gentle embrace when you both met outside the restaurant on your first date.

That's right, what would he do?

You gulp the cleanest gulp of air you could through only your mouth, and hoist up a heavy metal chair.

And that's when you charge. It's all or nothing now.

You have to keep this Infernal at bay until the Force arrives.

You swing and aim for the head. It actually makes the creature fall back.

Thank Sol you weren't holding onto the chair, as the metal would have conducted the angry heat from the torrent of flames the creature lets out straight to your hands. You shriek and dodge the attack, just in time. If you can't take flight, at least the adrenaline helps you to fight somewhat.

A white-hot pain wraps around your shin and blindsides you. Your heart drops. No. Not again.

The creature's hand is extended and warped to rope around your lower leg. You've pissed it off.

Just as you think, shit. This might actually be it but at least I tried, the Infernal suddenly lets go and the searing pain leaves, if only slightly.

The creature screeches the most horrid sound you've ever heard, leaving your ears ringing as its eyes face towards the sky.

And then you notice the black gloved hand impaled through the chest of the infernal.

A soft, "Latom" from a young sister's voice trails from behind the dying creature.

Finally, the poor cashier can rest in peace. The Infernal slowly dissipates into thick, black cinders that dissolve into the air, revealing a hulking figure clad in back with glowing blue stripes--who immediately props you up with thick arms you could feel through the heavy uniform.

"Y-Y/n," a deep, gentle voice breathes through the metal grated face shield.

He props up his grated face shield and looks over you, making sure you're not overly hurt.

"Obi?" you reach out for him, your bottom lip trembling. Fuck, you've only seen him twice before this but you need a hug.

And that's just what he gives you.

He holds you tightly, amidst the other survivors being escorted. Nothing can hurt you now, because he is here. Rubbing soothing circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth, dissolving your worries with just a touch. "I'm sorry it took me so long, you're safe now."

You want to diffuse the situation, to cope with humor as you always do. Except...there are no jokes, only every emotion you should've felt in the last fifteen minutes, giving you whiplash all at once. Your throat tightens.

You try to fight the wavering in your voice but he still hears it.

"No, you're g-good, you came so quickly, I thought for a second I was going to die," he's looking into your eyes, and dammit, hot tears are flowing down your face, so as a defense mechanism you smile and laugh, wincing a little at the pain in your ribs from being thrown earlier. "But, at least I got to throw a chair at its face!" you choke out.

His concerned expression breaks into a soft smile as he tenderly wipes away your tears with a rough gloved hand, the same one that punched right through a burning possessed corpse.

This moment alters your brain chemistry forever. Feeling warm, safe, soft under his dark brown gaze. Seeing his pupils are kind of wide as he looks tenderly towards you.

"That's my girl."

My girl. He really just called you his....Your cheeks burn at him saying that, and you turn away, unable to look at him without blushing. Biting your tongue to keep from grinning so hard. It's not lost on him.

You need to change the subject, and fast.

"I, uh, might need to get my things, since they didn't burn thankfully, can I?"

Akitaru chuckles, as if that's so obviously not the answer. "I've got it, Y/n, don't worry about a thing."

Before you can protest, he's carrying you high above the ground princess-style and frees an arm to hook it through your bag. You feel minuscule compared to him, so secure, in his hold. Men don't generally make you feel safe like this. But he? He's made you almost sleepy, and you know it's not just you coming down from the anxiety and tears. You're serene like you just meditated for an hour.

The firefighters are silently gushing about how cute you both look together. The rest of Company 8 knows who you are. Little do you know that their lovesick captain has been gushing about you since your second date, as well as today.

Showing the picture of you to the girls having them squeal about how much they shipped you, Arthur saying you are the Captain's Holy Grail, Vulcan making him a little fan the same day because he said the captain was overheating and overthinking.

They all find it cute, Obi finally finding another person to give him a break from all this chaos in the world. So when he asks if they're okay to handle things for today, they brush off this Infernal incident as small anyways.

"This is nothing, captain. You can trust us to help resolve this today," a young man called Shinra grins adorably with sharp teeth. So finally the man asks to take a damn break, he thinks to himself.

You don't see them exchange excited glances.

"How hurt are you, Y/n?" he asks.

"My shin got burned, my shoulders not so much, got thrown around but nothing's broken," you state simply for him.

He looks over at the burned areas carefully.

"Let's get to the truck."

On your way, you spot the mother you saved, still cradling her baby, who is fast asleep in its teddy bear onesie.

She immediately recognizes you and runs to you without jostling the infant, and you realize how funny it looks with the fireman holding you the same way she's carrying her newborn.

"I know you," she smiles, "you saved me earlier. Fighting tooth and nail with that thing. I really can't thank you enough."

You wave her off. "Anyone would've done it, I'm nothing special!"

She clutches your hands in hers, narrowing her eyes. "Well, no one else did. You were so brave out there. Give yourself credit." She turns to Obi. "She was amazing out there."

You finally meet Obi's gaze. How long was he staring at you with all that love(?) and adoration?

You laugh. "Well, just know that you don't owe me anything, just live with your little baby and be happy. That’s all I wanted."

You all eventually say your goodbyes, and Obi is silently taking your behavior as the greenest flags he's ever seen in a lady.

He sits you down on the edge of the truck's back and climbs in to the cooler near the front. In there he finds two sets of cold compresses.

He lets you feel them. "These good?"

You nod. Before you could grab any, he jerks the compresses away from your grasp. "No, you don't", he places them on you, giving you a sweet yet frustrated look that says "geez, let me take care of you". You chuckle at how he's treating you like a newborn lamb.

"This should do for now. We're going to my home now to get you to recover fully, unless you need me to take you elsewhere," the large man states very matter-of-factly, when you get far away enough from the cafe.

"B-but...what about your heavy uniform?"

His dark eyes lock onto yours warmly. "I train every day, so wearing 100-something pounds in equipment and uniform feels like a windbreaker; I'll be okay, cutie, don't worry."

Well, that was unexpectedly hot. You bite your lip and fidget with his collar. "I know you're very strong, I can tell of course, I just need to be held, without this in the way.”

He nods, warmth filling his body. To him, you are so adorable right now, telling him you need him. And boy, does he want to be there for you. "My condo is actually kind of close to here. I'll hold you the entire night if you need me to."

You both haven't even kissed yet, but he was acting like true husband material. It was making you feel so soft, so gushy, and very warm...admittedly in your nether regions.

You think you should be more shaken from this whole matter, but instead you're getting turned on from your date rescuing you looking so hot in his uniform, that supposedly weighs nothing to him. You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck the negative emotions out of you. Is this unhealthy of a coping mechanism?

"Thank you, I'll definitely need to be held if it's not too much," you hum, resting your head where his chest is.

His chest rumbles through the uniform. "I would do anything for you, Y/n, don't mention it." Your brain buzzes in reaction for the entire fifteen-minute walk it takes to get to his place.

You almost ask him to let you walk when you both enter the building, but his grip on you is tight and comforting. The desire to stay in his arms overrides the urge to move and seem like a strong, independent woman. The receptionist does not question anything and gives a kind smile to the two of you.

He's quiet during the elevator ride. Eyes flitting down to you protectively on occasion, his rage at the fact that an Infernal came so close to you, very readable on his little tense scowl. His jawline clenches and unclenches as he thinks about what would've happened if today went differently, if he was even a few minutes too late. He seems almost scared you’ll dissolve right out of his arms. Being the empath you are, you sense he just might be a little, teeny bit concerned about you.

"We're still on for tonight, right?" you ask, dissolving the tension in his mind.

His gaze softens. "You're still down?"

"Of course I am, you're my hero today," you purr up at him, knowing the gentle giant would probably like to hear that. He absolutely is.

Obi's wine-dark eyes twinkle as a blush creeps on his cheeks. He wants to be your hero everyday.

"That right?"

"Yes, big boy, I know you're worried, but" the elevator opens and he walks out, "I'm fine. Just a few scratches and bruises, my burns are only bad around my shins." You can still grab my ankles, though, you bite hard on the inside of your cheek to distract yourself from your mind that's always in the gutter.

It's hard to help, having this large hunk of a sweet man who saved your life princess-carrying you around town to his place, in 100+ lbs of freaking fireman gear as if it's nothing at all.

"Well, let me take care of you on this date, Y/n, I hope you don't mind homemade ramen."

You gasp. H-homemade?! Like all the ingredients??? Complicated beautiful ramen? You could just kiss him right now.

"Obi, that sounds wonderful, especially for today."

His smile is contagious. He's such a hard-working man, yet he wants to pamper you. This man couldn't get more dream-boaty than this.

He finally sets you down when you are inside the apartment.

It is spacious and clean, with some bits of industrial and rock music-inspired decor.

"Please, makes yourself comfortable. I'll get my first-aid kit and get a good look at wherever you're hurting, if that's alright with you."

You smile and nod, sinking into the most perfect squishy brown leather sofa as any worries you had, melt away.

His helmet and gloves are off as he brings you a cup of water. He smiles at you and you laugh.

"Obi, you've still got that bulky suit on, isn't it hard to move?"

He smirks, heading down the hall. "Not at all."

After a minute or two he reappears, and your breath hitches. Charcoal grey joggers hug his legs and...um..everything, and his black t-shirt is barely stretchy enough to hold his gorgeous arms.

He senses you eyeing him like a piece of meat and a heat creeps down his body. He clears his throat, pretending not to notice.

"Y/n, do you uh..have a way to take off your long sleeve shirt?"

Thank goodness you had a couple layers on underneath this.

"O-oh, yeah, allow me," you shyly avoid eye contact and unbutton your blouse, feeling the warmth of his gaze boring into you. He swallows thickly, and you don't hear it as blood rushes to your own ears. His eyes feel so heavy on you.

You strip of your shirt and are left wearing a flimsy little tank and bra. He notices how your nipples poke out, and he tries to think of something boring or unpleasant to keep from getting hard in front of you.

Luckily for him, you don't seem to be paying attention. You tug the shirt up to look at your ribs. There's a bruise, but not as bad as you thought it was. You press on it and wince.

"Silly, don't do that," Obi chuckles rather stiffly.

"It hurts here."

"Hahah, oh really? I had no clue that a dark spot would sting when you jab at it, Y/n."

"Okay smartass, you know what?" You laugh a little and wince again at your ribs reminding you meanly of the getting thrown incident.

His face is back to being serious as he looks over your injuries.

"I hope you don't need to be in urgent care and instead told me you were okay," he's anxious at the thought.

You laugh at how concerned he really is. "No, I'm just tender in some spots, no bone injuries, no organ injuries, promise."

His eyebrow quirks as he kneels in front of you, applying cool aloe vera salve on your minor burns. "Your skin is an organ. Liar."

Your face heats up as his rough hands tug your foot on his lap and he gently pulls up your wide pant legs to examine the burns on your shin.

"Y-you know what I mean, Obi." He's so silly when he tries to be stern with you.

He hums, bandaging the affected areas and doing a once-over of your body. You feel a little bold, and inclined to thank him for everything in a way that can resonate.

"Psst." Midnight eyes dart back to yours.

You beckon him closer, and his hands rest on either side of you as he props himself up to lean his ear close to you.

You whisper, "thank you for this," and move your hand from projecting your whisper to cupping his sharp jaw. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek while it's still turned to you. His skin is so smooth and hot to the touch.

You can tell he's now smiling from the way his cheek dimples, and he turns to you, eyes crinkling and pupils blowing wider as he gazes at you. You're so, so close to him.

"You're welcome, but just one critique," he drawls softly, his body heat, the scent of him in his cozy sweats utterly delectable. A gargantuan hand of his moves up to cover all the way around the back of your head.

"Oh? And what would that be?" you ask, tilting your head sweetly.

His nose touches yours, and you can't stop thinking about how you feel warm, so warm.

"You missed."

You both close the distance, and your lips lock hotly, cozily, perfectly. Your head spins and it feels like forever until he parts the kiss.

"Been wanting to do that to you," he whispers.

"Me too."

Your lips are back on his as you tug him back to you, and you feel him smile into the kiss, your hands trailing to the nape of his thick neck, feeling the fuzz of his fade. You're trying so hard not to devour each other, but it's really really hard for both of you to control yourselves. You gasp for air a little, and he pulls away to look at you, a love-dizzy grin on his face. You sigh at the loss of contact, giving him puppy eyes that make his heart throb.

"If I kiss you again, I won't be able to stop, and I'll forgo the need to cook you something to eat, which would be very bad of me," he murmurs sweetly, as he kisses the top of your head, hooking his arms around your legs and hoisting you up.

"I hope you can forgive me for being so mean and making us dinner," he finishes as he sets you down for the third time today.

You giggle. "Fair enough." You admire how his muscles are practically ripping out of his shirt as he turns his back to you to open the fridge. He takes out chasu meat he's marinated, noodles, green onions, dried seaweed, naruto, and eggs. Starts slicing the meat and simmering it with some onions, garlic, ginger, and broth. Boiling noodles. even the noodles look handmade, you think.

It starts to smell so good in the kitchen as you talk about funny work stories, about hobbies you enjoy, about music.

"Wait, you like rock, too?" his eyes light up, "no way!"

"Yes, way!" you smile, as you both talk about bands you enjoy. Music from before the cataclysm. Music with soul, with feeling, before most of the world burned down.

If not for the feeling of the bandages as you unconsciously trace a hand over your arm, you almost would have forgotten how today started.

"You know, not just anyone could make me forget about almost dying, but somehow you have," you ponder, eyes glittering up at him as you sip your water.

"That's how I feel about you, too, Y/n," he says. You can tell he means it. "Let's sit. Dinner's ready."

You hop down from the counter and grab a beautifully plated bowl of ramen. "This looks immaculate," you gush.

"Not nearly as good as the Lieutenant's cooking, I can tell you that much," he chuckles, cracking open a bottle of sake.

"We'll have the sake I mentioned at my place next time," you promise.

"Yes, I want to try it! I'm sure it's better than this one," he pours you a little sake glass.

"Pshh, nah."

The food and sake are both delicious. The raven-haired man may downplay it, but he's so good at cooking. Which, a man that cooks? Just one more reason why he's literally so enchanting. He's almost too good to be true.

_____________________________________________

"You pat your stomach , satisfied. "That... was beautiful," you say with a grin, "but holy shit am I stuffed."

Obi hums. "And you're amazing, lady! Almost ate more ramen than me. Almost. But no one can beat me.” He winks. “Let's watch a show, yeah?" You both cuddle up on the couch, your head resting on his chest as one of the best pre-disaster shows --The Great British Bake-Off-- plays.

Both of you are creating you own commentary on the show, and his thick arm is curled around your waist. You play with his other heavy forearm, feeling the veins coiled around its girth and squeezing his muscles.

“Y/n,” he says, breaking a few moments of silence.

You hum in response, and he smiles at you picking up his forearm like it’s the heaviest thing in the world, and hugging it in your arms. He blushes as he feels your soft tits against him and almost loses focus on what he's about to say.

“Am I holding you enough like I promised you I would?” He’s genuinely concerned, peachy lips pursed in thought. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how he’s such a sweet man. You want to show him just how much you appreciate everything about him and his kind heart.

You move a little bit to straddle him and hold his face, accidentally turning the poor man on way too much, flustering him.

“…Obi, you’re doing amazing. I feel so comfortable, so safe. You’re so good to me, so strong, and I just know you’re such a good captain.” Captain. Fuck, everything you’re doing and saying is making heat rush downstairs to his aching cock. Maybe he wants to hear you say that one more time.

“Yeah? Is that so, pretty?” he says through slightly-gritted teeth.

You sense something in the shine of his eyes, laying beneath the waters, almost like a ravenous crocodile waiting to devour what sinks in. The hysterically strong man smells of almost danger, like he absolutely does bite. But he's trying, key word trying, to push it all under layers upon layers of sweet frosting, to no avail.

His hands holding you on your lower back rub circles on your soft exposed skin, and your hips twitch involuntarily to your sensitive nerves being caressed.

The dark-haired man picks up on your little innocent movement. His cock fucking jumps at your hips slightly grinding on him, and his nostrils flare a bit to catch his breath.

“Yes captain, I think you should keep holding me as you are,” you answer him, a hand of yours feeling the planes of his pecs. His heart is beating rapid-fire, like he's about to have a heart attack under you.

“Ah, so I should keep holding you just like this,” he says, drunk on lust, his hands moving down to the globes of your ass, naughty thumbs now choosing a new place to circle—the crease your hips make where they meet with the plush of your thighs as they’re wrapped around his torso.

The skin of your hips is so sensitive to his electrifying touch, playing with the bands of your panties, massaging you and making you feel like squirming. You whimper and your hips jerk back to get away from the burst of stimulation, only to bump into something big and hard.

Is that.....

It jump against the curves of your ass, to answer your question. You gasp, and curl a fist in his shirt. His rings of dark brown have disappeared into the darkness of his blown out pupils and he smirks.

He tightens his grip, and you feel his abs through his shirt as you scramble for balance.

“I’m waiting for your answer, sweetheart,” he’s snarling now, barely able to contain himself from wrecking you. You take a second to remember what he's asking.

“Y-yes, you’re holding me—,” his hands get ever closer to your core—“just right, fuck,” you squirm, causing you to grind a bit more on his hardened cock.

Heat creeps through your ears as he leans in to whisper, “Don’t stop moving baby, you’re making your captain feel so good right now, being so tempting all fucking day.”

“Yes captain,” you moan—to which he growls—you shiver and shift your hips to grind right on top of his hard member, heartbeat in your pussy as you feel the shape of his cock, how utterly perfect it is, right down to the mushroom tip…holy shit he’s thick. He helps guide you and your clit rubs right on him through way too many layers of fabric.

You whine and bite your lip, hand still on his washboard abs for stability.

“You like what you feel, love?” he asks, and you think yes, you do enjoy what you feel, with both your palms and under your soaking pussy. A bead of sweat is on his forehead from how aroused he is and how warm the air is around you both.

“Yes daddy,” you test the waters, he's asking so many questions, and it's getting harder and harder to answer him each time. Suddenly a gasp is pulled out of you when he flips the two of you over. His hands tease your waistband, as he looks you deeply in the eyes, a sharp predatory gaze making you clench around nothing.

“Say that again.” Arousal drips from his voice; it's so deep it's almost hard to make out what he's saying.

“Yes daddy, need you in me, please,” you repeat, not caring about how needy you sound. His ears perk up like a hungry wolf’s at your desperate, pathetic pleas.

“Good fucking girl.” He yanks down your pants and panties in one go, eyes never leaving you so he can watch your face as he sinks a finger in, a hand on your hips to hold you down.

"Could smell how wet you've been all damn evening, see how obviously you've wanted me all day," he pumps the thick finger in you, curling it towards your pelvis.

He groans and you mewl at how good just one of his fingers feels. Holy fuck, his finger is so big and rough as it thrusts slowly into you.

“Shit you’re so wet, baby...and it's all for me, yeah, gorgeous?” He spreads your wetness around, admiring how wet you sound, look, and feel. Your hips buck, and he slaps your clit.

You keen as he puts two fingers into your wet heat, reveling in how you grip around him. Like you don’t want him to ever leave you. Like you’re begging to be filled.

You're just thinking about how two of his fingers is thicker than three of yours when you try to stuff yourself. Just how thick is his cock, you wonder? You want it, and you want it to hurt.

Your arms are wrapped around his head, and you pull him closer so you both kiss. The kiss is steamed and ravenous, and your gasps are the perfect opportunity for his tongue to enter your mouth and find yours.

His knees hold your legs open and keep you from squirming as the heel of his hand rubs against your puffy clit. He breaks the kiss to hear your breathy moans better, as your arousal drips onto the couch.

“Tight little thing, making such a mess for me, you like my fingers? Yeah?” His hot breath fans over your ear as he talks dirty to you, every single word turning you on more and more. You spread your legs wider because you want him so badly.

“Mmh! Yes daddy, feels so good! Please, need you please!” you beg. He doesn’t need you to ask him any more than that. He quickly pulls his sweatpants and boxers down, and his cock springs out, slapping his shirt, spreading a bit of precum in its wake.

His cock is dribbling and delicious. Perfect, just as it felt when you were grinding on top of it. Girthy and long, with some black, neatly trimmed stubble above it, topped with a peachy pink drooling tip. Veins to match his forearms snake around his cock, especially the beautiful underside, as he pumps it, eyeing you like you're his favorite dessert. Your eyes are wide at how gorgeous his cock is, like the rest of his delicious, fine self. You need to see more of him though.

You tug on his shirt, and he catches your drift, chest swelling with pride at feeling so desired by the woman of his dreams. You both help each other to get undressed, ripping clothes off and tossing them to the floor.

He’s leaning over you, absolutely rippling in pretty muscles, and you admire all of the hard work visible in his physique.

“Your staring is making me blush, Y/n,” he breaks the lustful silence, coyly rubbing the back of his neck. Oh, so he's shy now?

“Yeah, Well, this is all for me, can’t help but stare,” your hands trace his firm muscles, nails scratching his skin lightly, making his cock jump visibly.

“I train every day for this, to build a body only one special lady can touch, it's all for you,” he lines himself up with your entrance, your thighs on top of his lap.

"'M a lucky lady," you shift impatiently, trying to get him inside you as soon as possible.

"But I'm much luckier," he rasps, slapping his cock against your clit, making you cry out.

He coats himself in your sweet juices, high on how delicious your arousal smells in the air. He swallows, trying to keep himself from going completely in with one thrust.

Your mouth makes a little “o” shape as he eases in the first couple of inches, stretching you out deliciously with his fat tip. The sting feels divine.

“Obiii~” you whine, and you feel every ridge of his cock as he pulls out a little, and then drags back in slowly, then out, then impales you all the way in til he bottoms out.

The stretch is unbelievable despite him going slow, and he gives you a few moments to adjust to his size. You can’t believe his big horse cock fit, but that's because you're made just for him, and he will make it fit every fucking time.

“Y/n…shit, you feel amazing,” he pants, and he rubs your clit a little to get you to relax a little.

“I'm so fucking full, fuck me Obi,” you whine, needing to feel him move inside you, which he does, and you add, “‘m all yours, please,” so that all sanity leaves the giant man above you.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, and he starts pounding into you, his thick cock dragging along your walls making you cry and beg and scratch his back. Your legs feel like they're stretched and spread so wide to make room for the big man who's pistoning himself inside you. Your hands cannot possibly touch as your arms are wrapped around his back, and his largeness and vastness turns you on all the more.

He nibbles on your neck possessively as he folds you like the luckiest lawn chair alive, hitting spots no finger of yours could ever reach, making you see stars.

You’re babbling little “yes’s” and begging over and over in a melody to his ears, coaxing him on towards ramming into your sloppy little pussy, fat breeder balls slapping into your cunt, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Pleasure is making you feel dumb, and you want his cock inside you where it belongs, forever and ever.

“Obi,” you struggle to mewl his name, and he looks at you, clenching his jaw not to come right then and there at the adorable, hazed over look in your eyes.

“Yes, Princess?” He rumbles, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back. Then he hits it again. Your nails claw his back like kitty scratches. And again. You squeal, sinking your teeth into his big ol chest, And again. Your body rocks with each of his powerful thrusts.

You’re drunk off his cock hitting your spot over and over, and he eats up all the little noises you make.

"Princess?" He holds your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him with your poor, teary eyes.

“K-Kiss… me,” you whine when you’re finally able to form words with your dumb little brain, and he happily obliges. Anything for his special girl. You’re devouring each other’s faces, tongues wrestling, eating each other’s moans.

You bite on his bottom lip, and he smiles into the kiss. “Dirty girl,” he rasps lowly, hips smacking into yours in one particularly sharp thrust, making you wail. Your legs wrap around him so he fucks you extra deep, as you kiss extra deep, your hands looking to hold onto something, anything, and settle to hook onto his shoulders. He curses under his breath, wanting to cum inside you just like this. But he can't. Because he was irresponsible enough to forget a condom anyways. you take him out of his thoughts with your weak babbling.

“You’re,” kiss, “so,” you both kiss again, “fucking,” *kiss* “big,” you whimper in utter bliss, a small bit of drool dripping from your mouth.

“Sorry, who’s big?” he nips meanly on your neck, and your legs and walls clench around him in sync at his bite, making him grunt loudly.

“You, captain Obi,” you whimper, and he moans beautifully, only hitting your overstimulated spongy spot now, battering into it with his huge cock.

You're close to finishing as most of your vision is filled with static, and he can tell by how sporadically you’re fluttering around him, threatening to milk him for all he's got. His rough pubes are brushing against your sensitive clit just right, and your toes curl extra tight as you can barely handle the pleasure.

Then, the cherry on top. One of his hands goes up to wrap around your throat and lightly squeezes, making you extra lightheaded and he sweetly says,

“Go on, angel, cum for me.”

Your vision goes white as you close your eyes tightly, your back arching into him as he slowly and deeply thrusts into you through your orgasm, your mouth open but not producing any sound.

When you come back to earth, it takes him a few more thrusts into your clenching heat before he forces himself to pull out, spilling his hot, sticky seed onto your stomach. His moans are the hottest sounds you've ever heard.

You pant and look at each other in the eyes as you both come down from your highs, and he smiles down at you. You smile back, sleepily, head buzzing, and he tells you he’ll be right back.

He wipes a warm, wet towel on your abdomen to clean you off. You twitch when he wipes your still sensitive pussy, and giggle as he folds the cum rag neatly once he's cleaned himself off.

Then you both lay there, on cloud nine, warming each other up on his couch, in utter bliss. He lays on top of you, his weight better than any weighted blanket or body pillow, sharp face smooshed between your boobs.

“Like I said, you can have me as many times as you want, any time you want me, I am at your service,” he reminds you as you snuggle, the sweet smell of sex still in the air.

“It’s gonna be a long night then,” you whisper, and he smiles, already hardening again. ♡

___________________________________________

A/N: thank you for reading 💌 after fucking all night they had a sleepover and y/n wears his big tee to sleep. <33 as they should.

#[✏️] speaking in tongues #demon papí draws #fire force smut #obi akitaru smut #obi akitaru x reader #fire force imagines #obi akitaru #akitaru obi #anime fanfic #x fem reader

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huverican · 1 month

Text

Hypothetically saying, if your life was flashing before your eyes because you are about to die. What memories of you and Stephen would replay in your head?

(Ⅰ) The first time you met.

You finished washing the rest of your dishes and tore off a piece of paper towel to dry off your hands. You hummed your favorite song, swaying to the melody as you walked towards your bedroom.

Just as you were about to open your door, you heard some sort of crackling noise. The kind a fire makes when its fed wood, or when a sparkler stick is lit. Confused by the weird sound, you turned around. Nothing appeared to be out of place.

Okay, maybe you were just hearing things.

You turn around once again and open your door fully this time. You walk into your room and pause, when you hear another noise.

Crack

"Alright, who's there?" You whip your head around and walk out of your room defensively.

You start checking behind corners, not afraid of whatever could be there. You were a superhero after all, you could put up a fight.

Then you heard it again.

You whip your head around and follow the noise to your living room. You stand in front of the rug on your floor, confused where it could possibly be coming from. It felt like you were right in front of it, but all you could hear was the noise coming from your rug.

You walk closer, considering lifting up the rug. Maybe it was something burning under it? As you kneel down, an orange spark shoots onto your chest. Expecting a sting, you fall onto your ass and try to wipe off any sort of hot remains. But nothing was there, and you realized it didn't burn whatsoever.

What the fuck?

All of the sudden, a burst of orange and yellow sparks are swirling in the air in front of you. You gasp and jump to your feet, stepping backwards and preparing yourself for a fight.

You stand there for a couple more seconds until the sparks spread out and widen into an oval. Then, sparks start to dissipate in the center and reveal a man dressed in robes... a very handsome one at that.

Wearing a red cape and blue garments, the man stepped out of the portal in front of you. You took another step back and analyzed who you assumed, you'd be fighting any second. Because- who the hell bursts into your house like this normally?

Though, you 'analyzing your opponent' turned into more of you checking him out. To be fair, how could you not?

The man was tall with a slim figure that definitely had muscles under those robes. He stood with straight, good posture, which just made him look taller than he already was. He had blue eyes that really popped out from his face, which had generously, sharp cheekbones. His hair was a dark brown, black-like color, and it had streaks of grey on the sides. His facial hair was clean and you could tell just from one look he kept up on personal hygiene.

All in all, this man looked very attractive. You know, like one of those older, 'silver-wolf' type men you see only in movies.

You could tell he was staring you down as well. If it weren't for not knowing if he was a threat, you would totally try and talk to him.

"(Y/n) (L/n), I'm Dr. Stephen Strange, you need to come with me."

You pushed your eyebrows together at his extremely, straightforward request and scoffed.

"Why would I go with a stranger whom I've never met, might I add, one that came through a portal in my house, and knows my name?" He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head a bit.

"Good point." He stepped aside to reveal Bruce Banner. You gasped slightly and relaxed a bit. It's been a solid amount of time since you'd last seen him, he went off on his own after the battle with Ultron. So of all places, why was Bruce with this guy?

You took a step closer and realized he looked like a mess. He looked traumatized, and it hurt you to see your friend like this.

You reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. To see if he would stop being so tense, but it didn't work.

"Bruce? What are you-"

"Thanos is coming, (Y/n). We need everyone we can get." You looked at him with nothing but confusion. Who the hell is Thanos?

"Um, okay. But you're going to have to fill me in." You said and you took your hand away from his shoulder.

"I-I will, just come with us." He turned around and put a foot through the portal, Stephen right behind him. Bruce stepped all the way through, waiting on the other side for you. Just as Stephen was about to head into the portal, he looked back at you.

"Are you coming?" He looked at you, a little puzzled. Why weren't you moving?

"Through uh- through that thing?" You pointed at the portal and Stephen looked at the portal, then you again.

"Um, yeah. Is it your first time going through one? It doesn't feel as weird as it looks."

Is it my first time? Um, yes? Where else would I be doing this? You thought to yourself. But then again, you were a superhero, anything could happen.

"Yeah uh, it is."

"Okay then, take my hand. I'll pull you through." Stephen reached his hand out and you squinted at him a little, contemplating whether to take his hand or not. You weren't scared, no, just cautious. You couldn't help but feel weird about doing this, let alone listen to someone you just met. What if something crazy is going on and Bruce isn't actually Bruce and it's a trick or-

"(Y/n) come on it's okay!" Bruce yelled, waving to you from the other side and snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked at Stephen's hand, then back up at him again and put your hand in his. He squeezed your hand and pulled you towards him a little fast, making trip. Fortunately, you landed into his chest, your hands resting on his shoulders.

Your face heated up a little and you could tell it was turning red. How could it not though? He was a mighty-fine looking guy.

"I swear if this is some sort of-" You tried to protest out of embarrassment, but he cut you off right away.

"Gosh you Avengers sure are grumpy. Lighten up, Sweetheart nothing is going to happen." He chuckled and pulled you both through the portal.

(Ⅱ) Your First Kiss.

"I wanna love you..." You sang the music to yourself, finishing up the mascara you had just applied. You were getting ready for a date. With who you may ask? The one and only, Doctor Stephen Strange, a sorcerer who had been known for helping save the world. So, how the hell were you scoring a date with a man like him?

Well, after you two had met. You and he (with the rest of the Avengers) were immediately fighting Thanos and his army. You two stuck around one another during most of the fighting, turning into friends on the battlefield. That was, until both of you had been 'blipped' for five years, returning back once again, on the battlefield.

When everything was finally over. You felt broken and lonely. Your closest friend, Natasha, was gone. Your brother, Tony, was gone. Everyone else that was held dear and close to you, was either gone, or depressed. Worst of all, the Avengers were lost, confused, and searching for a new way to start. The pillar that held up humanity’s hope and protection was broken. And when that many people look up to one group, it starts to take a toll on everyone in it.

Though everything was extremely painful, you and Stephen started to connect more. You and he became better friends and eventually, you two started to try going on a few dates. Stephen made you really happy, even when you were sad his presence helped. You enjoyed texting him, calling him, and seeing him. It was like he was apart of your daily routine now. When you wake up, you text Stephen. When you do something fun, you tell Stephen. Who asks how your day was? Stephen. It was like muscle memory to think about him every day. Your life was finally going upwards after everything.

Your first two dates with Stephen were better than any you've ever been on. Your first date, he took you out to dinner at a fancy steak restaurant. Then, the second one you had more fun, literally. You two went to an arcade and won as many jackpots as you could. Sounds silly when you think about it, two adults (superheroes at that) playing at an arcade like you were ten. But, it was worth every second and you had a good time. Something that had been hard for you after defeating Thanos.

"..and treat you right.." You continued to sing the song as you put on some jewelry. Stephen should be here any second, your date was at 6 o'clock. Since he used...portals, you knew he'd be right on time and it was already five fifty five. You took up the last five minutes checking yourself in the mirror, making sure you looked good. If you were going to be walking around with the Stephen Strange, then you should look good, right?

You heard the familiar noise the portals would create and poked your head outside your bathroom door. Stephen stood in the hallway with a bouquet of red roses, grinning like a child. So classic, yet so thoughtful.

"Wow. 6:01. You're late! Was it traffic or something?" You teased and he rolled his eyes, walking up to you and handing you the bouquet.

"Well if that’s the case, this is my sorry gift for being a minute late." He laughed and handed you the flowers. You closed your eyes, inhaling the fresh scent .

"These smell amazing, thank you. I'll need to grab a vase for these before we leave." You smiled and then realized the quiet music in the background. You turned around and picked up your phone, stopping the music and putting your phone in your purse.

"Hmmm, was that Bob Marley in the background?"He questioned as you both walked towards your kitchen.

"Mmmmmaybe." He chuckled at your response. You opened a cupboard under your sink, taking out a spare vase. As you started to fill it up with water from sink, Stephen came up behind you. He rested his arms on either side of you, leaning his hands on the sink.

"You look beautiful, Darling." He whispered, and just something so subtle as that made you feel weak in your knees. You could feel his breath against the back of your neck and you bit your lip a little. You turned around and faced Stephen, setting the vase on the counter. Looking up at him and leaning yourself against the sink, you leaned in closer to his face.

"Oh I do now?" At this point you two were almost touching noses. It was taking all of your self-control to not kiss him, and it was taking all of his to do the same. You were eye candy to him, and the look on his face was telling you clearly. The way he eyed you bit your lip. You looked so seductive to him, best part was you weren't even trying.

"More than you realize." He chuckled a bit, trying to brush off how flustered he was over you. Seriously, this guy the Sorcerer Supreme, a protector of the world, and he never stumbled. But this? Gosh he was falling for you quicker than he’d imagined.

You smirked and looked at his lips, he was biting his too. Little did you know, he was slowly losing the self restraint to not kiss your right there. The tension between you two made him want to just smash his lips into yours, but he kept still, too scared to make a move if you weren’t comfortable. If he messed up he could lose you, and he never wanted that to happen in the slightest.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, pressing your lips against his soft ones. Stephen’s eyes widened as he pushed against your lips and leaned his body into yours, gently pressing you even more against the sink. His lips tasted sweet, and you assumed it was from honey-tea he’d drunken earlier, which you didn't really mind. You expected it from an avid tea drinker. Besides, you were more focused on how it felt to finally put your lips on his.

He moved his hands onto your waist, hesitating a bit incase you didn't want them resting there. When you didn't move out of discomfort, he gently squeezed your waist. He was careful with his hand placement, reminding himself that he didn't know how what you were okay with. This certain way he touched you, with extra care and thought, made you feel warm inside. Literally, overheated by the fact a man such as him existed, a man that had made you so comfortable so quickly. You were never one to let your guard down, and you still kept a small barrier up. But Stephen had truly gotten you open up to him and it was unfamiliar to you. This feeling inside you hasn't been something you've felt in a long time..

..was it love? Have you really been falling in love?

You're an adult, you've had passed relationships, but this felt.. different. Yeah, yeah, every girl says that with the new man, but really though. This wasn't the same and you couldn't compare it to anything you've felt before. This felt secure, like you were on the right path.

You pulled away and broke the kiss, resting your hands on his chest.

"That- That was great. Wow." He lifted his hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb across the side of your face.

"Yeah, that was perfect." You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes for a moment. You were nothing but satisfied and comfortable in his care, you couldn't ask for more.

You opened your eyes again and playfully grinned.

"Wanna do it again?"

Hi all:) This was a very very veryyyy old draft, so I apologize if it was a little bad haha! But, I’m back. I might write more, I might not. But I have a few drafts I thought I would share because they never got to be posted and they had work put into them. :)

Have a good day:)

#doctor strange imagine #stephen strange #mcu #doctor strange x reader #x reader #marvel #doctor strange fanfiction #fanfic

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nunalastor · 1 month

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Inbox Post Spam!

Anonymous asked:

Nice to see a blog that's normal about FICTIONAL incest (it's not real get over it anon)

it's 100% fair for people to be put off by it and not be able to get over the power dynamics. it's just not something that bothers us personally when it's two consenting adults

Anonymous asked:

Morningcesters make some noise!!!🎉🎉🎉🎉

slay y'all

Anonymous asked:

got jumpscared by the BOATER while scrolling, I wore one for 4 years and hoped I’d never see one again why does the universe do this

It could be worse. It could have been the fedora.

Anonymous asked:

My friend redesigned Vox and Valentino into like good guys but they still fucked but she also made Valentino really tiny and squeaks so she asked me how they fucked and I said “if he has a dick and asshole it works” than I said “ *thump* *squeak* *thump* *sqeak* “ so this is your fault 👍

Anonymous asked:

I now squeak whenever i see radioapple stuff or anything with lucifer and alastor and i am now blaming you for it

-😋

Anonymous asked:

Funny thing about MY type of asexuality is I get horny, and then I project hard on my favorite characters. I don't WANT to find a partner or think of myself in that position, I'd prefer to live vicariously through my favorite characters and project onto them

Anonymous asked:

For some reason I forgot that Rosie was Rosie and thought when You type Susan Deg you were saying Rosie like a derogatory insult smt

I think I forgot who Susan was (even though I saw her picture at least 3 times) and my brian replaced her with Rosie

we would never disrespect rosie smh

@fujillamaparadise asked:

mood

idr what this is in reference to but i know i agree

Anonymous asked:

🪱🐍🦌📺

Passing by to tell traumatized mod that I started making a wormgate fanfic and there are currently 3+1 chapters 😏

thanks for the trauma

Anonymous asked:

I SWER TO GOD

THIS PERSON HAS THE SQUEAKY PART OF A DOG TOY

IN THEIR FUCKING MOUTH.

WHAT THE FUCK

THE *SQUEAK* *THUMP* SHIT IS HAUNTING MY BRAIN

-3💗

Anonymous asked:

Why does Lucifer gotta be so goddamn submissive and breedable. THERE SHOULD BE NOTHING THAT SEXY ABOUT THE FUCKING DEVIL HIMSELF.

I’ll see myself out, but only after I get to tap that ASS like I’m playing cookie clicker.

@mylz-flick asked:

Hey papis, how much sleep did you get? Did you sleep well? When can we start the somnophillia arc?

i'm 80% likely to be asleep at any given time, cursed mod probably got like four hours last night. they're a menace.

@katsuki17302 asked:

How did you start to get many hearts?🧐

You mean followers/engagement? I think because this blog was started at the height of Hazbin Hotel's popularity, we use the same tags pretty consistently, and we post so much stuff it's pretty difficult not to see us in a lot of the major tags. So, happy accident.

Anonymous asked:

What is going on with all the nun cursed cat Alastors 😭😭

something glorious.

Anonymous asked:

dommy mommy or subby hubby?

dommy mommy. men shouldn't have rights.

@fujillamaparadise asked:

Once upon a time, Alastor Altruist fell in love with a beautiful jambalaya. They got married, took over the world, and lived happily ever after. The end.

ty for this beautiful and riveting tale

@mylz-flick asked:

I just went and said hey to all my husbands and wives. Of course I have to end it with my favourite daddies.

Soz how are you daddy? Daddies? (With no rizz)

Better now that you're here, baby. <3 (With even less rizz)

@oholycatgod asked:

Ok I seriously gotta ask

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS IT WITH WORMS

ARE YOU OK???

WHAT HAPPENED

you can find the saga under the #wormgate hashtag but tl;dr one of the mods was like being held down and force fed worms is kinda hot??

#nunalastor asks

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manycoloureddays · 10 months

Text

in a vehicle / confessing feelings

for @amberlouigi who wanted this prompt for colin & isaac, i hope i did it justice!

Isaac has been sitting on this revelation for a while now. Getting used to it, learning how to live with this feeling in his chest so huge it threatens to swallow him whole. And now he’s going to say it, declare it, claim it. It’s fucking terrifying.

He’s not sure when it started. He was in too deep before he knew anything was happening. The timeline is all screwed up.

There were the before times, years and years full of friendship. Then there was that time between finding out Colin was gay and going to his house to apologise. The time they don’t speak about, when Isaac’s head was too full of noise and fear to make much sense of anything.

That was the night it smacked him in the face.

Sitting next to Colin on the couch asking him question after question until he was answering one of his own with too much confidence to be entirely theoretical. He didn’t know he was in it til it was too late, didn’t know it was something he could be in until he pulled Bumbercatch’s name out and then suddenly it was all he could think about.

He knew guys were, like, objectively fit. But he’d never really considered where he was in relation to that, or where he’d like to be. Turns out he’d like to be in the thick of it, right up close and personal.

They finished out the game but Isaac doesn’t remember who won. All he remembers are the different scenarios he had playing out in his head. Did he want to kiss Bumbercatch? A little, but mostly in the same way he wanted to kiss anyone hot. Just to try it, just because he could, but not in an earth shattering kind of way. So he probably wasn’t into Bumbercatch. Did that mean he wasn’t gay? Or that other one, the one like his baby sister. Bisexual. Huh. Okay. That word was only a little less scary.

But surely he’d have known. So if he wasn’t into Bumbercatch, was there someone else, someone more his type. He thought about all the girls he’d kissed, shagged, fallen in love with. Women who were fit and silly and liked a laugh, who went pint for pint with him and joined him on the dancefloor.

“‘Nother round, boyo?” Colin had asked, tapping Isaac’s empty beer bottle with his own.

Which had of course led Isaac to looking. Wondering. Thinking. Imagining. What would it feel like to kiss Colin? What would it feel like to go out clubbing and dance with him, instead of just near him? He thought about pulling Colin close, holding him tight, moving together, hands on his hips, thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.

Colin was standing in front of him, still waiting for an answer, and Isaac had to stop thinking about it.

Isaac couldn’t stop thinking about it, because Colin was standing right in front of him, his shirt riding up and Isaac could see his tummy, the trail of hair leading down to his …

“Nah, I gotta go,” Isaac said, jumping up and winding up almost chest to chest with Colin. “Another time though, yeah?”

That was nearly a year ago now.

He’s been sitting on it for A While.

But Isaac had to make sure. He had to double check his answers, be careful. He had to know he wasn’t going to say something he didn’t mean. He couldn’t lie about something like this. Not to Colin.

He couldn’t say he liked men, maybe liked his best friend more than he was supposed to, because what if he was wrong?

So Isaac made sure.

And by the time he was sure, Colin and Michael were on the rocks and he had to be the supportive best friend. He sat through conversations about their relationship, gave genuinely good advice that was totally unbiased, and then when they finally broke up, he, Bumbercatch and Jamie took Colin out to get wasted and dance it off.

Then he had to wait to make sure he wasn’t going to be Colin’s rebound guy. At which point, Roy pulled him aside and told him to pull his finger out, which was super embarrassing and he never wants to think about that particular boot room conversation ever again.

Roy in a healthy committed relationship is the worst kind of Roy to get advice from. He gets all sincere. And smiley. It’s honestly a little creepy.

But now they were here. Him and Colin in a car together for the three hours it was going to take to drive to Cardiff for Colin’s aunty’s birthday. Alone. Just like Isaac planned.

And now he thinks he might be bottling it.

Colin – in the passenger seat, because like hell was Isaac letting him drive all that way, he’d prefer it if Colin never drove again actually – is singing along to whatever Jamie T song is playing, totally oblivious to Isaac’s crisis.

Just because Isaac is very good at not talking about his feelings doesn’t mean he doesn’t want people to notice when he’s shitting bricks beside th–

“You okay in there, Isaac?” Colin asks, cutting in over Isaac’s spiralling.

“Huh?”

He reaches across and rubs his thumb up and down between Isaac’s eyebrows. “You’ve got your emotionally constipated brow furrow going on. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah bruv. ‘Course it is.”

He glances over, catches the almost reassured look on Colin’s face. He can practically hear Roy’s voice in his head: are you really going to let an opener like that go?

Fuck it.

“Um actually. There’s some stuff I’ve been wanting to tell you.” It really is so much easier like this, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel. He can say it to the road in front of them, just like he’s been practising in the mirror. “Nothing bad, I promise, yeah? I just need you to listen.”

“I can do that,” Colin says. And it’s Colin. It’s fucking Colin. He’s Isaac’s best friend. He’s been building it up in his head for so long, he kind of forgot that Colin is the easiest person in the world to talk to.

“So uh. You know how you’re gay?”

Colin splutters, trying to keep his laughter in and failing.

“Yeah, Isaac. I know how I’m gay.”

“Right. Well. Me too. Sort of. Half. I’m bisexual, or whatever.” He knew he should have rehearsed this bit longer. I’m bisexual, or whatever, real smooth. Wanker.

Colin doesn’t laugh though. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything at all, which would freak Isaac out if he wasn’t used to the way Colin goes blank when he processes new information. It’s like he’s uploading software and needs to restart. It’s cute. Fuck, he’s so cute.

“Thanks for telling me. It’s not an easy thing to say,” Colin says. He puts his hand over Isaac’s on the gearshift and squeezes.

“There’s more. Um. Yeah, I’m just going to… I’m kind of in love with you?”

Colin doesn’t go blank this time. Isaac watches out of the corner of his eye as Colin’s mouth drops open.

“Can you pull over?” he asks, and that is not exactly what Isaac wanted to hear, but he does it anyway. If Colin doesn’t want to be in the car with him anymore, Isaac sure as hell isn’t going to keep him here.

They haven’t even made it to the motorway yet, which turns out to be a blessing. Isaac pulls in behind a big white van. He reads all the information on the back of it while he waits for Colin to leave or say something, and considers calling the number and getting his mum’s conservatory renovated for her.

When Colin finally finds his words, they’re not the ones Isaac was expecting.

“Can you say that again?”

Isaac turns to look at him. He doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t look confused or freaked out or angry or any of the things that Isaac was dreading. He looks shocked. But beneath the shock there’s something a little like hope.

Isaac latches onto the hope, ties it to his own to make it double.

“I’m in love with you.”

Colin breathes in. Breathes out. “Not kind of?”

“What?”

“Before, you said ‘kind of’. You’re not kind of in love with me?” Colin asks, and he’s smiling now.

“Nah. That was a lie. I’m definitely in love with you.” It keeps getting easier every time he says it.

Colin laughs. “Cool.”

Isaac opens his mouth to say Cool back, because he’s starting to understand the need to reboot with new information, but he doesn’t get anything out before Colin launches himself across the centre console.

Kissing Colin is nothing like kissing any of the guys in packed clubs. It’s soft and sweet, the two of them smiling too much to kiss properly. Isaac’s seatbelt is cutting into the side of his neck, and Colin is talking into the kiss, but it’s still making Isaac smile dopily.

“I’m definitely in love with you too,” Colin says, words pressed into Isaac’s lips. “Like, have been for a while. Probably will be for a really long time. Hope that’s okay.”

Isaac doesn’t answer. Colin’s always been better with words anyway. He just keeps kissing him until he shuts up, and then he kisses him more.

They’re an hour late to Aunty Megan’s birthday. But they walk in holding hands and Isaac knows some things are worth the wait.

#i really wanted to post it tonight so i hope it doesn't feel too rushed!!#colin hughes #isaac mcadoo #colin x isaac #ted lasso #madeleine writes #amberlouigi

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