#and like that shit don’t go away it MUST be metabolized by the animal

[woundedheartwithin]

Nah she’d still die. Or get very very sick. I’m assuming they would take a massive dose of pain killers to do this, because I can’t imagine NASA sending astronauts up with cyanide pills even in fiction, but an overdose of opioids would definitely do it. So they’d be dead and unable to metabolize the drugs, which means the drugs would still be in their blood stream and diffused through their bodies. If she ate the meat, she’d get drugged too. Listen, I know it’s fiction, and I’m sure there have been inaccuracies throughout this novel that I haven’t noticed because it’s not my wheelhouse, but I raise dairy goats. I do know a thing or two about drug residues. If they really wanted her to survive, they’d have to kill themselves in the airlock through suffocation, or else the meat would be tainted and inedible

Not to mention the bacteria that lives on their bodies decomposing the flesh, it’d be rancid in a matter of days. Granted she could freeze dry them in the airlock, but again, the drugs would still be in their bodies. Yeah, the only way to go would be for them all to get into the airlock without their gear and depressurize

#she speaks #I commend him for putting something so dark in his novel I really do #I always appreciate when authors refuse to pull their punch #but man this is a big 😬 for me #cuz like I said I raise animals in the food chain #it’s very important for me to understand how drug residues work #like I can’t drink the milk if there are meds in it #for like weeks #and that’s with the doe actively metabolizing it #so you can imagine the residues that would be in the meat of a medicated animal #there’s a reason why withdrawal times are a thing #your antibiotic free food is not antibiotic free because the farmer never administered antibiotics #that would be cruel and inhumane #your antibiotic free food is antibiotic free because the farmer waited 30 days after administering the last dose #before putting the animal in the food chain #be that as milk or meat #and like that shit don’t go away it MUST be metabolized by the animal

[twistedtranslations]

Rook Hunt - The real culprit is... you!

You can unlock this story by getting Rook’s SSR Dorm uniform

Translation under the cut

Rook calls Epel “himeringo”, the Japanese word for plumleaf crabapple. I shortened it.

As we know already, Epel sometimes slips in his country accent, hence the weird wording.

Chapter 1

Courtyard

Vil: …8…9…10! Next up is the camel pose. Push your chest out and lean your upper body backward. Hold your ankles with your hands and keep that pose.

Everyone: Yes!

Epel: Ugh… Rook…

Rook: What is it, monsieur Crabapple?

Epel: I came to help with the shooting of the next work of the cinema studies club, but… Argh! Why are we doing yoga… Ugh?

Rook: Epel, you know, it's because we wanted you to take part in relaxing activities. If people relaxed, they will become more flexible mentally, and more active in discussions and communication. Yoga is the best exercise to improve your blood flow, metabolism and it soothes your mind. Moreso, your posture and physique will become much more beautiful! That's why Vil does yoga before his cinema studies activities.

Epel: I, I see… Is there…. An easier method?

Rook: By the way, Epel. You should bend your back more if you want to call it a camel pose. Okay, I will help you out and pull your arms back!

Epel: Eh, no, I'm fine- OUCH!!!!

Rook: Hahaha, monsieur Crabapple, you're body is quite stiff.

Savanaclaw Student A: Hey, look, it's the guys from the cinema studies. What a weird-looking pose is that! Man, I'd be way too embarrassed to wriggle like that in front of everyone.

Cinema studies Student A: Why are you guys butting in suddenly? This is just yoga…

Cinema studies Student B: Leave it be. Those muscle brains from Savanaclaw wouldn't understand our graceful bodybuilding.

Savanaclaw Student B: Huh? Are you picking a fight!

Rook: Oh please, there's no need to get angry! Why don't you join us? We can polish our beauty and deepen our friendship with yoga!

Savanaclaw Student A: Who'd do that! Beauty won't fill your belly. C'mon, let's go.

Epel: … friggin' irritatin'. Rook, I don't know how or why you could invite those guys…

Rook: I thought they might understand the benefits of yoga if they did it. How regrettable. Oh, me of all people! While I was talking, I forgot to help you out. My bad, let's continue.

Epel; Um, no, I don't need it… OUCH!!!!

Vil: Epel?

Epel: Ah… Vil.

Vil: I thought I heard a crushed frog's ugly cry, but that was my imagination, wasn't it?

Epel: Ugh… I'm sorry, I'll pay attention to it.

Vil: Rook, I think there will be no problems if you are by his side but… If anything happens, I hope you will "properly" discipline him. Not only does he lack in manners and aesthetics, but many other facets as well.

Epel: Is… that so?

Vil: Didn't you get frustrated when the Savanaclaw students reprimanded you? Do not involve Pomefiore in trivial arguments. Understood?

Epel: Understood…

Vil: Rook. If Epel quarrels with other dorm students during the shooting period… I will expel you two from the cinema studies- no, the dorm.

Epel: … I'm only here because you asked me to help.

Vil: Did you say anything?

Epel: Nuthin’- I mean, I said nothing.

Vil: In any case. Please refrain from idiotic behavior that could tarnish Pomefiore's name.

Rook: Oui, Roi du Poison. Leave it to me!

Cinema studies Student A: Those three seem to get along well as usual…

Cinema studies Student C: Epel and Rook are amazing. Leaving out the fact that they're from the same dorm, they can talk to Vil so casually. Perhaps I'm still too nervous because I saw him on the TV and in magazines before I entered the college?

Cinema studies Student A: Right. They're amazing for being able to to talk with him without constraints.

Interior Hallway

The next day

Epel: Ah, Rook.

Rook: Hello, Epel. You're here early.

Epel: Yes. My class finished early…

Students: Congratulations!

Rook: You guys too… We are the most enthusiastic people in the club today.

Classroom

Rook: Vil isn't here today because of work, therefore I will instruct you on the activities…

Cinema Studies B: … Is something wrong?

Rook: La vache (Oh the cow)… how terrible. Look at that.

Epel: Argh! Vil's clothes are torn into pieces!?

Cinema studies Student A: And it's not only his clothes but also the photo sets on the wall…

Everyone: !!

Epel: The heck, what are those weird words written in red…

Rook: "A defective beauty"… It must be a message from the one who tore up the clothes. Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Chapter 2

Classroom

Rook: Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Epel: Is there anyone in the cinema studies club who’d tear up his clothes with ill intent…? Who would do that…

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, those marks on those ripped clothes… Don't they look like they've been made by sharp claws?

Cinema studies Student B: Claws… Then this could be the work of the Savanaclaw students. But why would they…

Cinema studies Student A: … Could it be those guys from yesterday?

Epel: Do you mean the ones who made fun of us..?

Cinema studies Student A: Yeah. The guys from Savanaclaw said it then, right? "Beauty" won't fill your belly.

Cinema studies Student B: So a Savanaclaw student with a grudge from yesterday wrote a message on the wall and tore up Vil's clothes?

Epel: If they didn't like it, they can face us up front. This is cowardly.

Cinema studies Student A: Epel, you are a good person. Even though you aren't part of the cinema club, you still get angry for us.

Epel: I ain't forgivin' them for goin' behind our backs… I mean, we cannot allow them to do this.

Cinema studies Student C: Yeah. We won't stay quiet about these precious clothes being destroyed!

Epel: Yeah! Let's search for those guys from yesterday and have'm complain to our face!

Everyone: Yeah!

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, wait everyone- ... And they went.

Rook: Oho, everyone seems very passionate.

Cinema studies Student A: Rook, are you not following them?

Rook: The sadness of losing such a beautiful thing stunned me for a moment.

Cinema studies Student A: … I see. I'll stop Epel and the others.

Rook: Oh my, to be in such a situation on the day Vil isn't here. Or to be more precise, "because he isn't here". Moreso… "A defective beauty". I should solve this case before Vil returns. 

Rook: I should investigate to see if I can find evidence that links to the culprit. Let's start at the place where the fabric was torn. …As I expected. It's not a scratch even though it resembles one. They used 25 cm long scissors with 9 cm long blades to cut it. From the angle of the tears, I can guess that the culprit is right-handed. They held it with their left hand by the torso and used their right hand to cut from the shoulder to the waist with the scissors… 

Rook: The culprit is probably around 168-172 cm. That narrows it down a bit! Fufufu…  Even though I've experienced the hunt for an animal's traces many times, it still elates me. Oho, I can't let myself get carried away. I have to concentrate on the investigation… … Aha. I see… Fufu, I have deduced the animal. Now it's hunting time!

Courtyard

Savanaclaw Student A: Shut up! We didn't do it. Who gives a shit about your clothes!

Epel: If there's anythin' you wanted to say, tell 's up front instead of harassin'… you're so unmanly, senior.

Savanclaw Student A: What!?

Cinema studies Student B: If we cannot agree and don't progress then… We will have a duel!!!!

Savanaclaw Student B: Hah, come at me. I don't think you culture boys will be much of an opponent though.

Everyone: HAAAAH!!

/Fighting sounds

???: Stop it!

Savanaclaw Student A: Huh…

Cinema studies Student A: All our magic was swept away!?

Epel: Rook!?

Rook: Turn your magical pen in, everyone. It's forbidden to use magic for your personal struggles. Besides, you’re in the wrong by blaming them. They have nothing to do with what happened.

Epel: Huh…

Savanaclaw Student B: Pf! You got us involved in some weird stuff. We did nothin' so we're off.

Cinema studies Student B: … How foolish! If they didn't do it, then please tell us who did such a horrible thing!

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Chapter 3

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Courtyard

Cinema studies Student B/Epel: Huh…

Cinema studies Student C/D: No way…

Cinema studies Student A: …

Cinema studies Student B: He can't be the culprit, Rook! He's the costumer of the cinema studies club!?

Cinema studies Student A: That's right. You saw it, right? That "A Defective beauty", what a disgusting and criminal declaration!!

Rook: Yes, I saw it. That felt out of place. As the Savanclaw students said, they don't only not care , but even negate the very existence of "beauty". Despite that, do you think they would use an eloquent expression like "Defective"? While I was thinking about that, I inspected the garment that seemed to be torn apart by claws carefully.. And followed the clues to you.

Cinema studies Student A: Why… Me?

Rook: The scratches on the garments. They were cut by scissors in the shape of a beast's talons. And by examining the traces of your cut, I could deduce their height and their dominant arm, which happens to concur with yours. And there's more evidence. What I hold in my hand right now is a piece cut from the garments… Look at the lining?

Epel: The lining? What's wrong with it?

Rook: It's loosely sewn. This garment hasn't been used once for a photoshoot, and it's not the only part that doesn't harmonize well on the camera… Vil is the kind of person who strives for perfect quality from the fabric to the sewing and the accessories. He wouldn't have let this shoddy tailoring pass.

Epel: Um, so someone tore up the garments of the cinema studies club. But it was a fake, and not the real one…? I, I'm confused.

Rook: He hesitated at the moment of the crime when he was about to tear Vil's clothes, so he replaced it with a fake. The essential part is that the fake was made intending to fit Vil perfectly. There are only two people besides Vil that know his measurements exactly. The first one is me. And the other one is…

Epel: The costumer… who is in charge of taking his measurements?

Cinema studies Student A: Ugh…

Rook: I suggest you don't make more excuses now. Won't you tell us your reason?

Cinema studies Student A: I-, I did it because… I was jealous! You and Epel get along great with the esteemed Vil!

Epel: Huh! You think we're getting along great? The only thing he does is scold me though…

Cinema studies Student A: That's plenty! I admire Vil, studied what he likes, and devoted myself with all my might to the cinema studies club! Even so, I never got any closer to him since I enrolled! So I tried to make you two fight the other dorms…  and have you expelled from the cinema studies club.

Epel: Well ain't you a peach…

Cinema studies Student A: … I'm sorry for causing an inconvenience to everyone in the club. I'll take responsibility and quit the club.

Rook: Quit the club? Non!! That would be outrageous, my dear costumer!

Everyone: Huh!?

Cinema studies Student A: W-Why…

Rook: This case. His love for Vil created and destroyed it. Thus… Love only won't make you able to finish a piece that can be mistaken for the real thing. The way your fingers assembled this with thread and needle, it's actually beautiful. If the cinema studies club were to lose a talent like yours, Vil wouldn't be pleased. Your atonement will be your contributions to the club.

Cinema studies Student B: It's just as Rook says. You are the best out of us at dressmaking, if you weren't here it would stump us. Come on, let's go back to the clubroom. Let's repair this garment before Vil comes back from his work!

Cinema studies Student A: ! Y-Yes!!

Rook: Okay! That settles one case.

Epel: Rook! That was splendid. You are so observant, to tell it's a counterfeit just by the seams.

Rook: Ah. That was a lie! No one hand-sews anything these times. They all use a sewing machine. You can't see that with the naked eye, right? It was a trick.

Epel: Huh… Huuuh!? Then how did you know it was a fake?

Rook: Fufufu, the truth is much simpler. Smell. The counterfeit clothes didn't have a single atom of the characteristic and unique mellow fragrance that Vil has, so I knew immediately.

Epel: What!? That investigation method is kinda… gross, you know?

Rook: Listen, Epel. I regard the information you can get by smelling highly, as it's useful for hunting. You can know the places one visited or in this case, the person's characteristics, by the traces of their smell. For example… sniff sniff. What you had for lunch today-

Epel: Argh!? S-Stop this!

Rook: Hahaha! Just kidding. My nose isn't that good either.

Epel: I thought you were amazing like a detective, but… maybe you're really just a weirdo.

#twisted wonderland #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #translation #personal story

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #67

Prompt number: 26 - “How about you trust me for once?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: Crack

Summary: Nile takes them to Pride. 

AN: For @spookyvoidangelskeleton, thank you for always liking and reblogging my stuff. This is definitely more cracky than normal, so heads up.

“We’re going to go somewhere fun,” Nile promises, taking a left at the light. She read online that there was a good parking garage a couple of blocks away from the parade and that the walk was totally worth the price. Even though her eyes are on the road, she can feel them trading glances behind her back. “How about you guys trust me for once?”

“The last time we trusted you, we got banned,” Joe reminds her, and okay, that’s fair. But in her defense, she didn’t think Nicky would actually punch the guy!

“Wait-what?” Quynh asks, sticking her head in the middle. “Where did you guys get banned from?”

Nile pushes her head back. “Put your seatbelt on. We’re going to get pulled over, and I’m sure as hell not paying for that ticket,” Nile says, and oh god, she’s turning into her mother.

“You guys got banned from somewhere in the seven months I was exiled?” Booker asks.

“Technically, only Nicky is banned,” Joe says, turning around to grin at his husband. “He was my hero.”

“Yes, a true hero,” Andy sarcastically drawls, dodging Joe’s swat. He hits Booker instead and gets a very offended ‘hey!’ in response.

Quynh sticks her head back in the middle, and Nile sighs. If they crash, Quynh’s just going to have to suck it up and deal with the pain of healing. “I understand how you feel now. I don’t like it.”

“How I feel?”

“Yes, being out of the loop. Very annoying.”

Nile huffs, a wry smile stretching her lips. “Welcome to Initiation, it lasts a good fifty years.” Nile doesn’t have to turn around to know Quynh is scrunching her face up, the one that tells the world just how displeased she is.

“Is no one going to tell us where you guys are banned from?” Booker loudly asks, interrupting the intense bickering match between Andy and Joe.

“No!” Andy and Joe shout as one before resuming their little love spat.

Nile briefly makes eye contact with Nicky through the rearview mirror. He looks far too amused with everything going on. “Sorry, Quynh and Booker. You must be a level 8 to unlock the list of places we’re banned from,” Nile says, grinning ear to ear. “Ow! No pinching the driver, Quynh!”

“The driver was being a bitch and deserved it.”

Never let it be said that Quynh was a slow learner. That woman picked up curse words faster than a cheetah on speed.

It takes ten more minutes to pull into the garage. It’s the ten most painful minutes Nile has ever lived through. She almost turns the car around, but that would mean another fifty minutes, and she’s not strong enough for that.

“Oh! Is there some festival going on?” Joe asks as a gaggle of people walk past their car. They’re all in bright shirts that have a rainbow on them, and they’re carrying several signs as well. “I forget what it’s called, but it’s for gay people.”

Nile pulls into a spot. “Pride Parade,” Nile answers.

“Yeah! We should go after we get banned from wherever we’re going!” Suggest a haunted house once, get banned, and no one will let go of it. How was she supposed to know that Nicky’s reaction to Joe screaming would be to turn feral?

Nile turns the car off and looks at her passengers. “Surprise! We’re going to Pride!” She looks at Nicky. “Please don’t get us banned. I don’t know how that would even happen, but please don’t get us banned.”

Nicky smiles. “I can make no promises, but I will try hard not to.” That’s good enough for Nile!

“We’re not appropriately dressed,” Quynh says, watching as another group passed their car. “We need more colors.”

Nile scoffs. “I prepared, honey. Everything is in the trunk.”

By the time they get to the parade, it’s just starting. There are more than a hundred thousand people lined up on the streets, all buzzing with infectious energy, cheering on the people in the middle.

“Dykes on Bikes?” Quyhn asks, pointing to a group of women riding motorcycles. “Are there Dykes on Horses?”

Andy wraps an arm around Quynh’s waist. “People these days don’t value horses.”

“They’re wrong. But, okay.” Everyone but Nile nods in agreement.

Before this can turn into another horses-are-great rant, Nile gets their attention with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get drinks, and then we can enjoy the parade.”

“I’ll go with you. They can stay here,” Booker says, sidestepping around Joe. “They don’t get to see this very often.”

“Cool, any requests?”

“Something sweet,” Joe says.

Darn, she can’t bring a bottle of tequila back. What are they going to drink now?

“Colorful,” Nicky adds.

“Anything is fine,” Andy says, and Quynh nods.

“Alright, I can do sweet and colorful. You guys stay here; come on, Book.”

They find a frozen daiquiri bar towards the middle. It’s absolutely swamped. The ten frazzled employees are dashing around like headless chickens to fill cup after cup as fast as they can. Of course, Nile and Booker choose this one.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The cashier asks once they’re at the front.

“Six monster yards pride drinks,” Booker orders, handing over his card.

“That’ll be $134.86, thank you. Can I say, it’s very nice of you to support your daughter.”

Nile stares at the guy and then promptly bursts into laughter. Oh my god. This is definitely the best day she’s had in years. Booker is looking at the cashier like he lost his damned mind.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought-I’ll get your drink,” the cashier says, cheeks a bright red.

“I don’t look that old,” Booker touches his face, lingering on the wrinkles on his forehead. “Do I?”

“You are old!” Nile reminds him, swatting his hand away from his face.

“Your drinks,” the cashier says, putting them all on the counter. “Thank you for stopping by, and I’m sorry again for the rude comment.”

Nile waves him off and picks up three drinks. “Thanks! Now, come on, Dad.”

The other’s eyes widen when they see them with their drinks. It’s understandable, the cups were only 48 oz, but instead of building the cups wider, they went taller.

“They didn’t have anything bigger?” Nicky asks, relieving Nile of two of the drinks. He hands one to Joe.

“They were all out of kegs,” Nile responds. “Hope it meets your colorful criteria.”

Nicky looks down at his bright, rainbow-themed drink and his lips quirk up at the corners. “I think this will do.”

“These are amazing!” Quynh exclaims, taking another sip of her drink. Almost half of it is gone already. “You gotta get more!”

“Wow,” Andy says once she swallows her first sip. “These are good.”

“Nicky and I will get the next round,” Joe pipes up, and holy crap. There are only a couple more sips left in his cup.

Have these people never drank a frozen daiquiri before? Or a spiked slushy?

“That’s fine by me,” Booker says, glaring at his drink.

“What happened to you?” Joe asks.

“He’s upset that the cashier thought he was my dad,” Nile answers.

Joe laughs with delight, letting Booker shove him. “Nicky and I are definitely going back then. Have to support local businesses, you know?”

They have a great time. Nile doesn’t think she’s ever seen them all so loose in a public setting before. Joe’s tucked neatly under Nicky’s arm, tangling his fingers with the hand he’s currently under. Andy is standing behind Quynh, both arms wrapped around her neck, chin hooked on her shoulder.

Booker and her end up going back to get the second round. The third too. Nile taps out after that, she has to drive, and she hasn’t exactly been testing her alcohol metabolism rate.

As they’re leaving, Quynh lets out a shriek and runs across the street. Several heads turn her way, and they all watch as Quynh skids to a halt in front of an animal shelter tent.

“A dog!” Joe excitedly says, jogging over to join Quynh.

“Dios,” Nicky mutters, stalking after his husband.

“We’re getting a dog,” Booker sighs and finishes the last of his drink. “There’s going to be shit everywhere.”

“You don’t think Nicky is enough?” Nile asks.

“No,” Andy answers, crossing her arms. “He’s going to fold.”

Nile turns to look at her. “Why aren’t you getting your wife?”

“She’s more than that.” Nile rolls her eyes. “But if I go over, we’re getting more than one dog.”

“You like dogs?”

“She likes pussy,” Booker says and laughs when Andy smacks his arm. “I hope they don’t get a puppy.”

“God, those things yap,” Andy takes another sip of her drink. “They better not get a small dog.”

Nile looks across the street. As Andy said, Nicky has definitely lost the argument. They’re all petting the puppies, and man, Nile really hopes she doesn’t get a million dollars. How awful that would be.

Five minutes later, Quynh and Joe come skipping back, a puppy in each of their arms. Nicky is carrying some papers as well as two leashes.

Quynh holds the puppy out to them. “This is Max, and that’s Ollie! They’re Australian Shepherds!”

Nile pets Max; she’s not a monster and looks up at Nicky. “You’re weak.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.”

#the old guard #joe x nicky #nile freeman #andromache x quynh #fictober20 #booker #hc

[the-elusive-libbin]

Hypnosis Mic- Hunger canons

Hunger Noises and reactions - Some of the Hypmic bois - Self indulgence at its finest

So I wanted to do some hunger stuff since I rarely do hunger based things and its actually my favourite kink. This is rather self indulgent so please do bear with it. Here are some mini canons regarding some of my favourite Hypnosis mic bois...this is one of my current hype anime series after all. Not included all of the guys, i.e Badass temple and Dotsuitare hompo, simply because I don’t know them all yet. Anyway, click ‘keep reading’ if you wanna keep reading ;)

Ichirou Yamada- Boisterous and rowdy- preferred wording: Belly: Ichirou tends to cater to his belly when it growls in public by raising an eyebrow at it, scoffing in mild irritation and eating a lot. Secretly he flusters more when his brothers hear his empty tummy and make jokes but the oldest buster bro puts on a face for the two youngsters, always has. He’s been without food for the sake of his younger brothers before and during those times, he would often fill his starving belly full of water in a feeble attempt to quieten the organ and hope that the others didn't ear the odd escaping moan; after all he's the one that's supposed to be caring for the two youngsters and he’d hate to make them worry. Nowadays he’s more nonchalant around others when they hear his groans, waving it off or joking about grabbing a bite to eat.

Jirou Yamada- Persistant and whiny yet deep, as though imitating Ichirou's belly- Preferred wording: Belly: Jirou doesn't hide his hunger anymore, sure he used to go hungry a lot and it's not like he's not embarrassed by the noises that emanate from his belly, but he's too used to complaining and whining for food when he's starved nowadays. If he wasn't too dense to realize the strong front that Ichirou always used to put up for he and Saburo, Jirou would attempt to mimic the oldest brother and do the same thing, putting on a strong front for the youngest bro. Unfortunately Jirou is dense and doesn’t realize ... his stomach has a habit of groaning directly after Ichirou's has. His mouth waters a lot at the sight of food when he’s ravenous and he will eat rapidly in order to fill his stomach quicker, something Ichirou has scolded him for on multiple occasions.

Ramuda Amemura - Long and high pitched with a deep undertone - Preferred wording: Tummy: Ramuda just let's his tummy rumble in public, it really doesn't bother him, especially since the girls tend to find it cute and sometimes they even give him candy. It's a win win in the little shit's eyes. He'll openly whine, about how hungry he is while patting his tummy with both hands and is even known to ask others if they can hear it moan, all for attention of course. Ramuda doesn’t like being hungry for too long though and isn’t usually due to the amount of sweets he passively consumes. Must have a good metabolism.

Gentaro Yumeno - Soft and gentle but very aggressive when neglected - Preferred wording: Stomach or Belly: Gentarou generally has a soft spoken stomach if you will. He eats meals on a regular time scale and doesn’t often skip. That does not mean however that he never skips meals as sometimes he can become so carried away with his writing that he forgets to eat. In situations like this, the writer will find his stomach a nuisance as it begins to suddenly, without warning, rumble at a fairly audible volume....embarrassing if you’re in a restaurant people watching and writing because there is no doubt that they would have heard the hungry groans. In response Gentaro inwardly flushes and decides it may be high time to grab some food before he is once again, rudely interrupted. Most of the time the man’s stomach is calm and collected but in it’s defense, there are only so many hours you can go without food before you have to speak up.

Dice Arisugawa - Constantly groaning, medium length, fairly deep, echoey rumbles- Preferred wording: Belly: Dice is always gambling his money away and so doesn’t tend to have money for food. Dude would sooner gamble his life away than eat. Of course canonically this means he’s always hungry and always trying to mooch food and money. Therefore I don’t think he’d be privy to hiding the ominous groans that constantly escape his belly, he’d use the moaning of his gut to emphasize his point as he complains about how he needs food and that he’s wasting away. Puppy dog eyes, groaning tummy and theatrical belly rubs or even lifting up his shirt to show you the damage are all things he’s used to. The only time he hides his growling tummy is when he’s fruitlessly trying to explain that he hasn’t been gambling....which of course everyone knows is a lie. He’s not flustered by his groans and canonically will love anyone who treats him to a meal.

Samatoki Aohitsugi- Deep and violent groans - Preferred wording: Gut: Samatoki has no time for his stomach’s noises and will try to cover the noises up should he accidentally skip or have no time for a solid meal. He especially likes to keep an arm wrapped around it when the crazy navy officer of the Mad Trigger Crew is nearby in the fear that he’ll soon be stuffed to the gills with something foul. Samatoki’s little sister cooks decent meal portions for him and often prepares bentos for while he’s ‘working’ so it’s unusual to hear the white haired man’s belly in the first place. He actually dislikes being hungry and is prone to getting hangry. He wouldn’t want to admit it but he’s rather flustered by his belly noises as he feels they ruin his tough guy image and make people feel sorry for him. Watch his face turn red should you comment on a loud grumble or groan.

Jyuto Iruma- Fairly average, medium sounding gurgles- Preferred wording: Stomach: Jyuto is flustered easily enough by his stomach but he tries not to let it show; coughing into a gloved fist or pushing his glasses back onto his face are often enough to keep his embarrassment at bay. Tease him however and you’ll get the opposite effect, polite ‘excuse me’s’ reddening cheeks and robotic movements. The guy wants to remain cool and collected, not look and sound as though he’s missed multiple meals, do him a favour and don’t tease. Jyuto tries to keep his stomach nice and satisfied while keeping to his meal schedules as best he can. He shares his fear of being stuffed by Rio with Samatoki and shudders at the thought of his teammate’s cooking. Canonically, Jyuto’s grumbling tummy has caused trouble for both himself and Samatoki before.

Rio Mason Busujima - Deep, guttural, animal-like groans- Preferred wording: Gut/Stomach/Belly: Rio canonically lives in a tent in the woods catching and eating whatever he can to eat, which often leads to the ex-marine slurping down a plethora of weird and wonderful things. There are times when of course, he is unable to catch a decent meal and so may have to go to bed on a partially or completely empty stomach. There is nothing stopping him from buying food, he just doesn’t do it often, when he does, he stocks up on canned rations. On occasion he has found himself running without provisions and in those cases his stomach likes to very much voice its displeasure. Rio isn’t really bothered by his stomach or its growls, they’re natural and he’s used to it. I think the only way to fluster him with hunger would be if his stomach groaned in a crowded room and everyone heard it or maybe if you were to place an ear to it. His stomach is often loud like an animal roar, even at the start phase of his hunger and can be calmed only by gentle tummy rubs and food. You’d have no chance of getting any sleep whilst lay beside this man when he’s hungry.

Jakurai Jinguji - Soft and regular yet deep- Preferred wording: Stomach: The good doctor detests the idea of neglecting his stomach. It shouldn’t happen with his patients so why should he let it happen to himself? Unfortunately it does, rather often actually as the poor guy is always so busy taking care of others that he forgets about himself. Jakurai will always eat when he gets the chance to and he is fully aware that he needs to eat regularly to maintain a healthy diet, he’s a doctor after all. When hungry, the doctor’s tummy is fairly soft and deep sounding, rumbling in low tones that are not unlike that of his voice. It can become quite loud when he’s been hungry for long or if the poor doc falls asleep with an empty stomach as it will rumble deeply in a feeble attempt to wake its sleeping master. Most of the time Jakurai feels the vibrations before hearing them, especially if the room he’s in is bustling so he’s not too worried. Stomach noises are natural and his is just doing its thing. That does not mean that he won’t be embarrassed should a loud groan catch him off guard. Either way, stand next to this doctor on a busy day where he’s skipped lunch and keep an ear out. Perhaps you can hear those groans becoming gradually louder and louder as time goes by~

Hifumi Izanami - Almost sing-song-like, high-pitched gurgles- Preferred wording: It varies depending on the girl he’s talking to, otherwise he uses stomach: Hifumi’s stomach isn’t normally overactive, loud or really very vocal. It’s only on the odd occasion where he’s super hungry where it will whine like a neglected child. He’s usually sated and not hungry but Hifumi has a fairly good metabolism and can become hungry whilst working or chilling at home after a few hours of not eating. Should his belly groan while he’s working at the host club, suit on of course, he’ll just flirt it away “Do you hear that? That was the sound of me hungering for your love, how about some champagne?” In some awkward chat up line that somehow always works...much to Doppo’s irritation. He will change the wording and the way he acts about being hungry to match the girl he is currently with however, complain softly to those who like cute guys and acting refined about it to those who like mature men for example. Should Hifumi’s stomach grumble at home however he’ll whine to Doppo while cooking them both a dinner. He’s more likely to complain than he is to fluster at the sounds. Unlike Jakurai, Hifumi can drink on an empty stomach without getting tipsy as he’s built up an tolerance.

Doppo Kannonzaka - Average, each growl varies and is situational- Preferred word: Stomach or belly: Doppo eats normal foods at scheduled hours of the day. His lunch breaks are at the same time each day, his breakfast he eats at the same time each day and he presumably eats dinner with Hifumi at around the same time each day. Doppo’s stomach makes all sorts of noises, hungry or not and he finds it futile to attempt to stop them because he knows that they won’t listen anyway. His stomach has a mind of its own. Some days Doppo can be absolutely ravenous and not feel the bite of hunger with his stomach not making a peep, other days his stomach will groan loudly and uncontrollably, varying in pitch and tone. Should anyone hear this or dare I say comment on the sounds, he will blush and maybe even slam his head to the desk, cursing the world under his breath. He’s already way too tired to deal with the embarrassment of his random hungry stomach’s outbursts at work. He’ll have a bigger breakfast tomorrow he promises himself.  Regarding Doppo and Hifumi - I would assume that they come home from work at separate intervals, one working a salary man 9-5 job with overtime and the other being a host (Presumably working the Shinjuku nightlife.) I imagine that they get at least one meal a day together aside from Hifumi’s days off. My prediction as someone who worked the nightlife in England for 6 years is that the two rarely get time together but do see each other, Hifumi would possibly have to work weekends but may get time off in the week of or work less shifts, then again he is supposedly Shinjuku’s number 1 host so that may not be entirely accurate. Anyway it’s all speculation and I would totally love to hear more about their living habits. Let me know what you think, I’m slowly going to work through asks on my day off but I’m more than happy to chat hypmic ;)

#H/ypnosis mic #Hunger #belly kink #headcanons #bellycanons #stomach growl

[libsterslobsters]

Black Dog...

A Bucky Barnes x Reader fanfic

A/N: The motherfluffer strikes again! I know I said I was going to do a pt 2 of "What Is and What Should Never Be", but I was sitting with my doggo tonight and this is what I was inspired to write. It's more of a prequel, I guess.

Summary: There's not much Bucky wouldn't do for his best girl, but when she suggests they get a dog to help them readjust to life after the final battle with Thanos, he's not so sure it's a great idea.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ fem! enhanced! Reader

(reader can see moments into the future as well as understanding all languages and processing new information quickly, plus she's also a super soldier)

Warnings: Slight angst, mild swearing, fluff!, mentions of PTSD and panic attacks, No editor, we die like men

“You want to do what?”

Bucky considers himself a fairly reasonable person (well, there is the “was brainwashed for over fifty years” part) and he prides himself on valuing whatever his girlfriend (fiance he reminds himself, she kept the ring on for five years) says instead of only listening to come up with a response, but this time, he’s almost certain he’s heard wrong. At least, he hopes he has.

“I want to get a puppy.”

That’s exactly what he thought she said. “Or really a dog of any age.” Where to begin with that suggestion.

He likes dogs. He had one before the war. But that was back when it was safe to walk through Brooklyn at night, not to mention walk your dog along the sidewalk after dinner. Back before sudden noises in the night, however light or normal they are made him bolt upright in bed and reach for the knife he still keeps on the nightstand just in case. Before fighting “bad guys” was part of his every-day life, and way before he himself had become a bad guy. All of that considered, there’s only one way he can answer.

“I don’t think so, doll.” The corners of her lips turn down and her eyelids lower.

“Oh.” She’s more disappointed than she’ll let on. Maybe there’s a way to smooth it over.

“Why did you want a dog?”

He takes a seat on the sofa next to her (they were going to settle into their usual after work activity; watch something neither of them will remember later as an excuse to be together, usually with her legs resting in his lap and a bowl of popcorn between them) and silently wills her to look up, not be saddened by something he’s done. Goodness knows she’s had enough of that to last a lifetime already, and the wedding isn’t for another month.

She shrugs, still absently picking at her pilling sweater.

“There’s been studies done on how having a pet helps lower stress levels and raise seratonin levels. That helps with PTSD and sleep disorders.”

Something that used to just apply to him, but after Thanos, it’s as often her waking up from a nightmare that felt just a little too real or staring at words in a book that she’s not even seeing long after midnight.

“Plus-” She laughs, but it’s not the unbridled sound he treasures, it’s… bitter somehow. “-it’ll be like exposure therapy. We’ll be forced to leave the apartment for more than groceries and work.”

It seems as if the outside world has become even louder and more unbearable since the world ended and restarted again.

“All of that sounds good-” There’s the beginings of a smile on her face. He hates that he’s about to crush it all over again. “-but what about the logistics of it?” She frowns, clearly confused. “We don’t know where we’ll be living once your lease is up-”

“There are plenty of other apartment complexes that allow pets.” He nods.

“Yeah, but not all of them. And on top of that, when we’re away on missions, who’s gonna look after the pooch?” She seems to be considering it, mulling it over, then-

“Here me out: we train the dog to come with us on missions and do reconnaissance.” The smirk on her face lets him know that it’s a joke. Good. Then she’s not completely devistated.

“If the situation looks too tough, we’ll send him out ahead of us. While he’s licking their faces and their guards are down because even the worst of the worst can’t resist a cute puppy-”

“We storm the place?” She nods, shoulders shaking in a quiet laugh.

“You’re catching on! And, we can order a special doggy uniform since you can find anything on the internet these days.”

That’s the final straw, and before he can even consider it, he’s laughing too.

“You do make a pretty compelling argument, but let’s stick a pin in it until this thing-”He indicates her left hand, which is now resting casually against his thigh. “-becomes official.”

“Fair enough.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s doing better now, she thinks. Better than she was for the past few months. Still, after her last class at the community college lets out (so many new enrollments now that the population is back to normal, and the majority of them have no memory of the hell those who survived the snap endured for five years), she sits in her car for a solid half hour, shaking and crying her way through a panic attack. When it passes, she reaches for the makeup bag hidden in her purse and, in an effort that’s really muscle memory at this point, repairs the damage to her face. There. Nearly normal.

Driving home is considerably more difficult than it used to be now that there’s more cars on the road, but the route is familiar, so that’s some comfort. Not everything changes. She really should pick up some potatoes and cubed beef for tonight’s dinner, but after the day she’s had, facing a crowded supermarket seems like just a step too far. Takeout, then. Maybe a pizza. After all, she’s got the same chemicals running through her veins as he does, which means their metabolisms can keep up with excess calories. It’s one of the better side effects of being “enhanced” as her file is labeled.

She’s so busy thinking about which toppings to order that she barely manages to swerve in time to keep from hitting the animal slowly limping towards the curbside.

“Shit!”

The miriad of horns honking from behind and beside her let her know that her decision isn’t a popular one. Still, she eases the car to the curb and as soon as the coast is clear (she should just run into traffic… no, that’s an intrusive thought, acknowledged and dismissed), steps out.

The animal made it across, at least. Animal, because she can’t be sure what species it is. It’s trying to get away from her, but the poor thing is limping badly, so there’s not much chance it’ll manage that particular feat even if she weren’t faster than the average human. She approaches with caution (if she were to be bitten, would it even effect her? More than likely not) in case she startles it.

“It’s alright.” She’s got it cornered now, and she can see that it’s a dog. A pathetic lump of matted fur and mange with at least one broken leg, but a dog none the less. She crouches, holding her hand out in front of her, palm open.

“You’re okay, sweetie. I’m not going to hurt you.” The poor thing is shaking, letting out low growls that quickly turn to whimpers as soon as she touches it. “You’ve had some tough luck, haven’t you? Yeah.”

She can’t tell what color it is under the filth and… her breath catches in her throat… blood. Black for now, but maybe a lighter color once it’s washed. However, the tongue that peeks out from a swollen muzzle is unmistakably pink. “Good boy. Or girl. I’m not going to look close enough to find out right now. Don’t worry.” It’s not a huge dog. She could probably lift it. That is, if it’ll let her. “A car hit you, didn’t it? Hurt that poor leg of yours.” She leans closer to get a better look. No collar. A stray, more than likely, and definitely a mutt. The decision is made. She’s not leaving it here.

“Alright. I’m going to get you some help, but that means I have to pick you up. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d kindly refrain from biting me when I do that, okay?” She takes the blink as agreement. “Here we go.”

She must look strange, emerging from an alleyway in the middle of Brooklyn with at least thirty pounds of unidentifiably colored dog in her arms, but if any of the other motorists notice, they don’t let on. Thank goodness for technology. With the press of a button, her car unlocks and she’s able to deposite her new friend in the passenger seat before settling behind the wheel once more. “Siri, show me the nearest animal hospital.” Once the gps is online, she adds as an afterthought, “Call Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Somehow, when he picked up the phone and the first words out of her mouth were, “Bucky, you’re not gonna believe me…” he didn’t expect it to result in him sitting in a veterinarian’s office an hour later, waiting to hear about a dog he’s never seen. Well, that’s not quite true. She did snap a quick picture. Even though he knows it probably wasn’t at it’s best, that had to be the most pathetic lump of fur and fleas he’s ever laid eyes on, through a photograph or otherwise. He’s not even sure it had both ears!

None of that matters though, because now he’s sitting there, pretending to study his phone with his baseball cap drawn low over his eyes and a pair of sunglasses to boot while she flips through the same magazine for the fourth time. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think the dog’s going to make it (actually, it might be kinder if it didn’t, the pooch is in such bad shape), but he’s decided it’s best not to bring that up. Time will tell.

“Are you mad?” That’s the first thing she’s said since he arrived and she informed him that they’d taken the dog back for immediate surgery.

“That depends. Did you walk into traffic to save him?” It probably wouldn’t hurt her, considering she’s strong enough to stop a car if she really wants to, but it’s not exactly a healthy habit to get into. Especially if they’re trying to be inconspicuous.

“No.” She flips another page. “Although I may have swerved to avoid hitting him, then chased him down into an alleyway and cornered him by a dumpster.”

That sparks a memory from the early days in Romania, the ones where he thought he was dating someone for the first time since the forties (albeit, moving very, very slowly) and she was under the impression that he saw her as a little sister. Her apartment was the equivalent of “low rent” and when, halfway through ‘Singin’ In the Rain’, a rat made it’s unfortunate appearance, she told him, “No, don’t kill it! Just get rid of it!” while standing on top of the coffee table (because clearly, that was so much safer than the floor). In the end, he did catch the rat (thanks to her precognition), and they safely moved it and it’s nest into a quiet corner of the courtyard. That’s when he realized he was in way over his head with this girl, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It’s still one of his favorite memories, so-

“ ‘Course not.” She doesn’t look entirely convinced, so he wraps his arm around her, pulling her close despite the plastic waiting room chairs. “Why would I be mad at my girl for having a big heart?”

She chuckles, leaning into him. “You mean I’m a softy.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Before she can reply, the door swings open. It’s late, and they’re the only ones left waiting, so it’s no surprise when the woman in scrubs stops in front of them.

“Your dog made it through surgery, although we did have to amputate the front left leg.” Huh. That’s the same one he lost. “We also took the liberty of giving him his rabies and heartworms shots, and since you said it’s a stray, we’ll call animal control to pick him up once he’s awake.”

That’s for the best. She may have a thing for hard luck cases, wounded animals, and lost teddy bears, but it’s not like they can keep the dog. He’s come around to the idea of getting a pet at some point (maybe he’ll surprise her at Christmas), but an animal that’s in that bad of condition… it’s a lot of work, and he’s not sure either of them is up for it (well, if truth be told, if he’s up to it).

“Did you want to come back to see him?” She looks up at him, clearly trying to get a read on what he’d rather do. He could just say no thanks, they’re alright. It’ll only make things harder when they have to go home. But, it’s obvious she wants to, and he’s not great at telling her no.

“Sure.”

He’s panicking just a little as they walk through a maze of corridors and metal doors that lock behind them. Calm down, it’s just a vet’s office, not a prison. You’re not going to have to fight your way out.

Finally, after the dozenth turn, the vet announces, “Here we are. He’s still a little groggy, and we had to shave him. It looked like he could use a trim anyway.” and pushes open another locked door.

Even with his leg repaired and his fur at least partially groomed, he doesn’t look like much. There are indeed two ears; one of them is just crooked, folding down instead of sticking straight up. He still couldn’t guess at the breed, but with all the muck washed away, it’s still a black dog. There’s an I.V. attached, and Bucky’s expecting that the most it’ll do is whimper if it’s touched, but as she approaches the table and gingerly begins to pet it between the ears, the dog’s eyes open, and it licks her hand.

“Hey, boy. You made it through. I knew you were a fighter.” Is it sticking it’s tongue out and- “Whoa. Your breath could take out an army!” -attempting to lick her face.

“We think he’s about eight months old. May get a little bigger, but not much.”

He’s a decent sized dog. Not exactly one you’d chose to guard your house, but not a lap dog either. And he seems friendly.

“Some nice people from animal control are going to come get you once you’re all better and they’ll find you a good home.”

Unlikely. After all, the dog’s a tripod. He’s going to regret asking this, but-

“Is there anything else wrong with him besides the leg?”

The vet shakes her head. “Nothing that a flea bath, mange treatment, and a few good meals couldn’t fix.”

So really, it wouldn’t be THAT much work. He’s seen plenty of dogs who can still walk with only three legs. He needs to get ahold of himself. The dog might not even like him. Animals are funny; they can tell a bad person from a good one, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s not sure if he qualifies as the latter after all he’s done. There’s only one way to find out.

“Hey, boy.” He reaches out his hand (the metal one, because even if it’ll heal quickly, he’s not crazy about being bitten) and scratches under the dog’s chin. “You had a hard day, didn’t you?”

The dog sniffs at his arm and then, wonder of wonders, his back leg starts to kick. “But you still seem pretty happy even if you are a little worse for wear.”

He really shouldn’t do this. It’s a lot of work, having a dog of any kind. They don’t know where they’ll be living once her lease is up, and oh yeah, they’re getting married in three weeks. But, the big puppy dog eyes look up at him (the dog’s looking pretty desperate too), and he knows his decision’s made.

“Think Stark ever designed armor for dogs?” Her brow knits in confusion.

“You know, since we can’t very well have him out there on missions without some sort of protection.” There it is. Recognition.

“Are you serious?”

“No.” The beginnings of a smile freezes on her face. “There’s no way we’re taking an innocent dog into a situation with hostiles. Are you nuts?” That laugh gets him every time.

“So we’re keeping him?”

He nods.

“We’re keeping him, doll.”

She hasn’t looked this purely happy in ages. For once, the memories of the past and worries about the future are completely forgotten, and that makes it worth it. That, and, well… he is a pretty cute dog.

Author's note: here's a picture of my good boi and writing pal, Rigby.

#bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky barnes #bucky fic #avengers #captain america #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #post endgame #the winter soldier

[thebonerpit]

all i want is a room with a view [fic]

all i want is a room with a view

Teenker/Keenker, 3780 words. TW: non-consensual voyeurism. Read it on AO3 here!

This was 100% inspired by a nff video that I used to have linked here but I’m taking it out because maybe that’s stopping my post from showing up in tag searches?? Anyway if you want the link I will post it, just send an ask, because the dude looks so much like older Harley it’s insane. And he has a gorgeous dick.

“Tony’s inappropriate feelings for Harley and Peter lead him to spying on them via cameras in their rooms. He sees a whole lot more than he expected.”

Tony had been thinking about this for weeks. Mulling it over in his head, weighing the pros and cons… and funnily enough, not once did he question the morality of the whole thing. That, he knew. He knew it was wrong but he was going to do it anyway because… well, because he wanted to. Because he could. And because he knew this was the closest he was ever going to get to these two beautiful boys.

Harley and Peter had been staying at the complex for about two months now. It was summer, so both of them were out of school and were desperate to get as much time in the labs as possible. Of course no one objected, and Bruce in particular was very pleased to have both of them around to bounce ideas off of. They each had their own room, both already making the spaces their own. They were usually in an equal state of mess although Peter was slightly more organized. He put up a Star Wars poster and had turned one corner into a mini chem lab for his ongoing experiments. Harley on the other hand was much more spartan in his decorating but his desk was constantly littered with mechanical parts and there were grease stains smudging the perfect white walls. He had apologized for the first one but Tony honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved them, mess and all, and he would let them do whatever the hell they wanted if it meant they would stay.

He knew all this detail about their rooms because, well, frankly, he was spying on them. Never while they were in there, but he already had cameras set up in those rooms when they were empty and… he was curious. A few times he opened the feed and caught glimpses of them, working or reading or doing some other innocent activity, but he quickly shut it off. He didn’t want to invade their privacy like that.

Until he did.

It was a few weeks into summer when the staring started. He’d look up from his work to catch Peter’s glassy eyes fixed on him only to hurriedly look back down at his own project, blushing furiously. Harley was less subtle – as usual – and held Tony’s gaze for a few moments before smiling and looking away. At first he thought they were up to something, that he was going to get pranked, but nothing ever came of it. They did it to each other, too, but their gazes were much more knowing, so Tony could only assume there was something between them they didn’t want him to know about.

The first time he actively checked on them while he knew they were present was when he saw Harley sneaking into Peter’s room as he was up getting a glass of water one night. He tip-toed back to his bedroom and pulled up the feed, some dark anticipation throbbing in his stomach. But it seemed perfectly innocent. Harley was on Peter’s desk chair and Peter was on his bed, and they were just talking. Nothing nefarious. Nothing… sexual. It was sick how disappointed he felt.

But after that he just couldn’t stop. He watched Peter on his computer, looking up cute animal videos and laughing sweetly to himself. He watched Harley reading. He watched them both together, sitting on Harley’s bed, eating pizza and marathoning Stranger Things. He even turned the sound on occasionally, just to hear them laugh. It was like an addiction. But somehow, up until this point, he hadn’t seen anything remotely scandalous. Harley was shirtless once but it was just because he spilled coffee all over himself like an idiot.

“Maybe my timing is off,” Tony muttered to himself as he tinkered with the engine of his ’65 Porsche 911.

“What was that?” Harley called from the next table over.

“Nothing! Just talking to myself. As usual. Whenever I ask either of you a question you just respond with memes,” he snapped, which of course got the two of them going and away from the subject he definitely should not have been thinking about in the first place. But he might have had something. He never tried the mornings (or more realistically for these two, afternoons). Tony set an alarm for the next day, more pleased with himself than he should have been, and went back to work.

+ + + + +

He checked in on Peter first. When he opened the camera all he could see were tufts of brown hair peeking out under the edge of his massive comforter all bundled up around his body like a cocoon. Tony chuckled softly and shook his head.

“FRI, crank up the heat in Peter’s room a little, would you?”

Tony liked to keep the a/c low but even though Peter’s crazy high metabolism should keep him warm, he was always bundled up in hoodies and socks and obviously he needed some more heat while he slept. Tony smiled fondly at the image before switching over to Harley.

The contrast was shockingly stark. Harley had no sheets on at all and was lying face-down on the bed, clad only in a pair of very snug, red boxer-briefs. His tight, round ass was perfectly on display and Tony bit his lip as Harley shifted and the muscles clenched. This was more like it. Harley was obviously just waking up, his phone chirping an alarm at him as he squirmed a little bit, stretching his legs out and groaning softly into the pillow before flipping over to turn it off.

Tony was greeted by a significant bulge which he barely had time to appreciate before Harley was palming it and arching into his own touch.

“Mmmm,” he moaned quietly, biting his lip as he squeezed a bit harder.

Tony was completely captivated. This was exactly what he was hoping for, and as Harley slipped a hand into his underwear Tony did the same. How he was going to look him in the eye again later that day he had no idea, but he could barely even process that thought right now. All he could think about was how good he looked, how soft and sleep-warmed, and fucking shit how big his cock was. Tony was stunned when Harley finally pulled his briefs down his legs and grasped his dick with one hand. It was thick and long and flushed red, and Tony’s mouth literally watered at the sight. He had always imagined being on top in any scenario involving the boys but god, what he wouldn’t do to get that dick in his mouth or his ass…

Harley stroked himself slowly, pausing every so often to spit in his palm. He seemed unhurried and relaxed, just enjoying the pleasure of a lazy morning handjob. His other hand wandered up and down his chest, flicking at his nipples or scratching lightly against his stomach. A few times he reached up to tug at his mop of sleep-mussed dirty blonde hair and Tony felt his own hand tighten, wishing he could touch him like that, too. Harley kept his eyes closed for the most part but a few times he blinked and seemed to focus directly on the camera lens. The first time it happened Tony tensed up, his hand ready to cut the feed, but it must have been a coincidence because Harley just kept going like before.

His noises started to get louder as he sped up his strokes and he reached down with his other hand to cup his heavy sac, tugging at it gently. Tony could see his hips start to jerk, and from the look on his face he was about five seconds from coming all over himself, so Tony sped up to match him. Unfortunately, before they could get there, both of them wrenched their hands away as Harley’s door flung open and Peter waltzed inside.

“Hey Harls, wanna go get brunch before we—”

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the boy laid out on the bed. Harley stopped touching himself but made no effort to cover up, so he was completely naked and incredibly hard.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, I’m so sorry, fuck, I’ll… I just…”

Peter flushed bright pink but for some reason made no effort to turn and leave, which is probably exactly what Tony would have done if he walked in on his friend jerking off. Unless of course he was attracted to that specific friend and… oh. OH.

Harley seemed to come to the same realization and a slow, lazy smile crept across his face.

“Hey Pete,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep and from the moans that were escaping earlier.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Peter’s voice was quiet, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Harley’s cock.

“I know. But you did sorta interrupt me. So, now that you’re here…”

Peter blinked at him owlishly.

“Wh-what?”

“Come on. I know we always talk about how fucking hot Tony is-“ excuse me WHAT “-but I’ve seen the way you look at me, too.”

Tony was reeling from the bomb that Harley so casually dropped. They talked about him? How had he never heard–?

“Shhh, Harley! We agreed, never in here! FRI hears everything.”

Ah-ha. Smart boys.

“Not really thinkin’ straight right now, Pete,” Harley said with a shrug. “If you don’t want to you can go, I promise I won’t make it weird, but—”

“NO! Uh. No. I…” Peter squirmed and bit his lip before he started slowly walking over to the bed.

Tony couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this really happening? He was half-tempted to ask FRIDAY if he was in a coma or hallucinating or maybe dead.

Peter was dressed in an oversized hoodie that Harley started to tug off as soon as he got close enough. They managed to get it off after a bit of a struggle, leaving him in tiny little sleep shorts that Tony had never seen before.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, baby,” Harley said, grabbing at Peter’s waist and pulling him down for a wet kiss. Tony could hear everything, every slick filthy sound, and his dick which had softened briefly from the shock was now rock hard again.

“Really?” Peter whispered.

“You’re tellin’ me you haven’t picked up on ANY of the hints I’ve been droppin’? Christ, my flirting game is rusty.”

“I just… didn’t think…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s part of what I like so much about you. Innocent little flower,” Harley teased, kissing Peter on the nose and making him scrunch his face up.

“Oh my god Harley, I’m not that innocent!”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Peter got a look on his face that Tony had definitely seen before, usually when either he or Harley challenged him to some task in the lab. Determination. Stubbornness. Boldness. He huffed out a little noise before pushing Harley back down on the bed, crawling down his body, and licking a thick, wet stripe up the length of his cock. Harley’s whole body jerked at the sensation and Peter looked up with a sly smile before taking the tip into his mouth and sucking.

“Fuckkkk, that’s it baby,” Harley groaned, throwing his head back against the pillow and scrabbling blindly for Peter’s hair to tug on which earned him a disapproving noise.

“Nuh-uh,” Peter tutted, pulling off him with a soft ‘pop’. “You want that, you have to look at me.”

Harley propped himself up on his elbows, one eyebrow raised, as he stared down at Peter who was pressing soft kisses all along his length.

“Is this better, princess?” he teased. Peter flushed a little but nodded as he took him back in his mouth. Harley dug one elbow into the mattress and with his other hand he curled his fingers back into Peter’s hair, pulling gently. Tony watched, completely mesmerized, as Peter got about halfway down his cock before he gagged and had to back off. There was no way the kid was going to get that thing all the way down his throat but god it was beautiful to watch him try. His lips were swollen pink from the abuse, spit-slick and oh so kissable. And Harley was a sight himself, obviously already on the edge from touching himself for so long but trying not to come too soon, his body tense and shiny with sweat.

“Oh god, Pete, your mouth…”

Peter hummed around Harley’s throbbing cock which made the older boy yelp and yank him off by the hair.

“Want more,” Peter whined, trying to take it in his mouth again, but Harley wouldn’t let him. He must be so close, Tony thought, palming his own cock just to get some relief. Usually he prided himself on being able to last however long his partner needed but fuck, he didn’t know how much more he could take. Thankfully, Harley seemed to be in the same position. He dragged Peter up into another searing kiss.

“Too close,” he murmured against Peter’s lips, “wanna come inside this sweet little ass. ‘S that ok?”

Peter nodded vigorously. “I’ve got lube in my room, I can—”

“In the drawer, over there,” Harley interrupted, pointing to his desk. Peter clambered off him so quickly he almost tripped and Harley laughed, but there was no malice in it. Tony got an exceptional view of Peter’s ass as he bent over to rummage through the drawer and could only image how Harley was going to fit his cock in there. Peter was already opening the bottle and squeezing lube on his fingers as he climbed back into Harley’s lap.

“You’re not gonna let me do that for you?”

“Not now. I know how much I need,” Peter said as he reached back to slide two fingers inside him, moaning as he pressed them as deep as he could.

“Well at least let me enjoy the show,” Harley said with a smirk, tapping at Peter’s hip until he squirmed around awkwardly to face the other direction in his lap. Harley groaned and squeezed at his pert little cheeks, spreading them apart while Peter fingered himself open. Tony watched his slick fingers move faster and faster and moaned out loud when Peter added a third, the high-resolution cameras picking up the perfect pink of his hole as it stretched around his thin digits. Harley threw his head back for a moment, eyes catching the camera again, and Tony could have sworn he smirked at it, but he was soon distracted by Harley slipping one of his fingers in alongside Peter’s.

“Ahhh!” Peter gasped, his hips shuddering as he sank down on their hands.

“You have gorgeous fingers babe, but it wasn’t gonna be enough. Come on, press in a little more, that’s it…”

It was only a few more minutes until Peter was whining and pulling at Harley’s wrist with his other hand until he slid his fingers out, letting Peter turn back around and position himself over his cock. Tony almost wished he had stayed the other way just so he could see every inch of it press inside, but this way he got to see his beautiful face. He’d have to invest in some mirrors for their rooms for the future… or maybe more cameras.

“You sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah, yes, please, want it,” Peter begged. Harley held his hips still with one hand and reached down to line himself up with the other. Tony could see the exact moment the head pressed past Peter’s tight muscle as his eyes flew open and he let out a choked-off gasp.

“Harleyyyyyy,” Peter whined, squirming his hips as Harley pushed up into him, getting those last few inches inside. He looked completely overwhelmed, his chest heaving and tears streaking down his cheeks.

“Aw look at you sweetheart, such a little crybaby, huh?”

“Am not,” Peter sniffed, slapping Harley on the chest which made the other boy laugh.

“Thought you said you wanted more?”

“I do! Fuck, Harls, it’s so big, feel so full…”

“Yeah? You like that big fat cock inside you?”

Peter blushed but he nodded fiercely, and he must have squeezed around him because Harley gasped and gripped his hips even tighter.

“Fuck yeah, just like that. Such a little slut,” Harley growled, jerking his hips up and jostling Peter forward. He braced himself with his hands on either side of Harley’s head and moaned as his flushed cock rubbed against Harley’s stomach. “You ready, baby?”

Peter nodded and leaned down to mouth wet kisses against Harley’s neck.

“P-please, move,” he whispered.

Harley started slow, fucking up into him with long, deep thrusts that jostled Peter’s whole body against his own. They tried to kiss but it was too messy, mouths barely connecting as Peter tried to meet Harley’s movements. It was uncoordinated, both of them trying to do what felt the best, and somehow Tony found that way sexier than if they immediately started fucking like porn stars. Peter whined with frustration as Harley kept knocking him out of his rhythm.

“Nnn, stop, lemme… fuck,” he groaned, as Harley grabbed his hips so tightly Tony could see the skin turn white and bucked up into him as deep as he could go.

“So fussy,” Harley rasped. “You wanna take control, hm?”

A flush of embarrassment creeped across Peter’s chest. He was like this even in the lab when they were all working together and he got excited about something, forgetting his sweet demeanour and ordering Harley and Tony around until he realized what he was doing. Tony usually just smirked and gave him a jaunty little salute but he would never tell him how hot it was. He was still shy about it, but obviously his need for pleasure won out and he pried Harley’s hands off of him, pressing them into the mattress.

Peter leaned back to grip Harley’s thighs as he worked his hips, slamming down against Harley, his dick jumping with every movement. Harley propped himself up on his elbows to watch this little display, a sexy smirk playing across his mouth as Peter rode him.

“God, look at you… so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he purred. “You close? Gonna come on my cock like a good boy?”

Tony groaned out loud at that. Fuck, Harley had an absolutely filthy mouth and he somehow knew exactly what to say to make Tony impossibly turned on.

Peter could only nod and whimper, and after a few more enthusiastic bounces he ground his hips down as much as he could, moving them in short little jerks to rub Harley deep against his insides. He must have been pressing right against his prostate because it didn’t take long for him to come with a high-pitched whine, shooting all over himself and Harley. Tony nearly came with him, just from the expression on his sweet face: eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, cheeks flushed… it was pure sin. Peter’s dick was still jumping and leaking when Harley grabbed his waist again and pulled him down for a kiss.

“That’s it, so good for me Pete,” Harley cooed, rubbing up and down his back and he shifted underneath him so he could plant his feet against the mattress. “I’m close too, baby, can I…?”

Peter nodded into his neck, fingers winding into Harley’s sweat-drenched hair, and he wiggled his hips a little just for good measure. Harley let out a grunt as he started fucking up into Peter’s pliant body in short little jerks. Tony matched Harley’s thrusts with his own hand, trying to imagine how tight and hot Peter must feel, how he opened for Harley’s huge cock so beautifully…

“Gonna come, gonna fill you up, so fuckin’ sweet darlin’, fuck!”

Tony got another gorgeous view of Peter’s face as Harley came deep inside him and he snapped his head up with a gasp and a lazy, fucked-out smile, practically drooling as Harley shuddered through his orgasm underneath him. It pushed Tony over the edge and he came moments after Harley, muffling his shout with one hand and making an absolute mess of his stomach. He came like he had been edging himself for hours and had to take a moment to slow his breathing before he could even look at the camera again. These boys were literally going to kill him. His heart could only take so much.

Which is why he nearly full-on passed out when Harley twisted his head around to look directly in the camera with a devilish smile on his face.

“Hi Tony. Did you like the show?”

Peter’s head jerked up again, his eyes wide as he looked to the door where he must have expected to see Tony standing.

“Wh-what, Harley, what are you—”

He followed Harley’s gaze to where the camera was, almost completely hidden unless you were looking for it, and he nearly choked.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, hiding in Harley’s neck as Harley chuckled, rubbing his back to comfort him.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. He’s wanted this since we got here. Got my phone all set up to notify me when you’re watchin’ the feed of my room,” Harley said.

That little shit.

“Figured I’d just give you a solo show today but then Pete here turned up and… well… happy early birthday I guess.”

Peter was still hiding, but he whispered something to Harley, so quiet the camera didn’t pick up the audio. Harley reached down and pulled his face up with a gentle finger under his chin and nodded. It must have reassured him enough to look up at the camera again although he was still bright red. He bit his lip as he raised himself off Harley’s softening cock, letting it slip out. Tony could see a pool of wetness where Harley’s come was dripping out of him and he groaned.

“I feel so empty already,” Peter said quietly, still staring at the camera. “Maybe you can help me with that, Mr. Stark?”

Harley laughed softly as he sat up enough to press a kiss to Peter’s abs and grab his phone from his night table, and then he cut the camera feed. Tony was left staring at his reflection in the blank screen. His softening cock was hanging out of his pants, stomach covered in cooling come, and his face was red from exertion. He was an absolute mess, but he had never felt so aroused.

“Be careful what you wish for, Peter,” he murmured to himself with a smile, cleaning himself up and already planning his next move.

#keenker #teenker #starker #harley keener x peter parker #harley keener x peter parker x tony stark #nff #tbpwrites #ok i'm re-doing this post because it wasn't showing up in the tags #WHY #i just want to share filth with people!!

[yetremains]

“...”

“Well damn, alright.” Yang downed the rest of her tea quickly, before gasping for a breath as she shoved her cup away.

“Lightning round, lets go!”

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

“It was in my young teen years, 15 I think. I’d been dating that individual for a couple weeks before they abruptly decided to kiss me then and there. We’d been dancing around the subject for a while. It wasn’t spicy or romantic, merely spur of the moment. Was sweet though. The year after that we had broke up and remained friends for a while until we lost contact.”

french vanilla: how old are you?

“You shouldn’t ask someone their age when they been through shit. Too god damn old is the best answer if you must know. I’m older than 28, trust me. Don’t let looks fool you. But hey, I’m getting even older come December 25th!”

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?

“Do places long gone count? Can I say Home? Nah probably not. So three places let’s see... Japan, China, Romania. The actual places not whatever anything makes them out to be.”

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

“I know a damn lot of languages actually. Sometimes it’s hard to think of the right words to say because of this, knowing so many. It’s one reason I’m so odd with my way of speaking. However, I would not mind learning some dead languages. If that doesn’t count, then... Persian?”

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

“Ah hell. I mean, I’m not much of a cosmetic expert here. I work with whatever I really need for a music show or for just every day. I could say L’Oreal because I’m worth it joke but that seems in bad taste. If I was using cosmetics just for the enjoyment or to look special, I just try and get whatever works for me.”

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

“Answered this one~!”

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

“Plenty. I’ve decided to learn a few different ones so I can mix together my own music needs of demands arise for it. But I really enjoy stringed instruments or wind instruments. I carry a small harmonica or Ryūteki in my packs.”

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

“Not easy to give an answer for, I’ve got a really broad taste. But I’m thinking something with a heavier beat at the moment-”

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

“Oh come on this makes it harder. As I said, broad taste. I can find enjoyment in many kinds of music and lyrics. Can’t exactly answer a favorite song for life here.”

cheesecake: what’s your zodiac sign?

“Which zodiac are we talking here? There are a lot out there. But the first one into my head is Capricorn. I am on the 25th of December.”

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

“As nice as the ocean can be, fuck the ocean. I’ll enjoy the coast line just fine but you won’t catch me swimming that far out in it. There is damn good reason why I don’t like the ocean much anymore. I’ll relax in a pool or a lake or river, thank you.”

chocolate chip: what’s your most popular post?

“Good question. I’ve made a few social media posts that exploded. But that’s probably not fair considering the music I do. I think my most popular is from years ago when I spray painted a statue of a certain someone to look like a baboon.”

bubblegum: books or movies?

“Both! Why choose? I enjoy both quite a bit. and besides, Books can always be there no matter what. And can hold so much valuable information depending what you are reading.”

pistachio: manga or anime?

“... Both again? But I prefer novels. This is more a guilty pleasure.”

salted caramel: favorite movies?

“I can’t remember the last movie I watched, if I’m honest, let alone a favorite movie.”

birthday cake: favorite books?

“Hmmm. Hard one. I enjoy the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe? There is Shōgun. The Mark of Zorro, Sherlock Holmes, Bram Stoker Dracula... There’s several.”

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

“Not exactly applicable, I don’t remember the name of any I like when I was young.”

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?

“The same as above. Wow I am old... I should really get in touch with these things again.”

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

“Hah, I loved science and history. A damn lot really. I’ve used both to really help my self along and it’s come in handy. My need for knowledge had me spend a lot of time researching.”

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

“I’ve not had any pets since I was a rookie. Never had the time to truly care for one, and now with a hectic life, I’m not gonna do that to an animal.”

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

“Suppose just to exist and have something to do between pit stops.”

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

“It is torn between two for me. A nice warm day, clear, maybe with a gentle breeze. Some clouds above, and calm. That’s the ideal outing day... But, I suppose due to my birthday, I can enjoy a soft snow coming down,some snow on the ground, watching through a window with tea in hand while bundled up and warm. Much prefer clear day though.”

black cherry: four words that describe you?

“Now that’s just not fair. Let me think... Loyal, Determined, Caring, Protective.”

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

“Being reminded of my failings and those I’ve lost... the people I’ve hurt... Thinking about friends I wish I was closer too but too fearful to be that close. Hm. I can also be stressed out by far too much stimulation for my brain at once that it can spin my gears way too quickly.”

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

“Again, broad tastes. But depending on my mood or feelings, it changes what my favorite kind of music can be. But I will always enjoy something gentle and calming.”

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

“I’ve always been partial to chocolates, or cream items.”

toffee: a card game that you’re good at?

“Ever hear of a game called Egyptian Rat Race? Also known as Egyptian Rat Screw, dunno why of course. I learned this game when I was a kid. 52 card deck, deal to each player until the deck is entirely used and everyone has a pile face down. Starting to the left of the dealer players pull the top card off their pile and place it face-up in the middle. If the card played is a number card, the next player puts down a card, too. This continues around the table until somebody puts down a face card or an Ace. When a face card or an ace is played, the next person in the sequence must play another face card or an ace in order for play to continue.If the next person in the sequence does not play a face card or an ace within their allotted chance, the person who played the last face card or an ace wins the round and the whole pile goes to them. The winner begins the next round of play.“

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

“Uh... Admittedly not often. With my metabolism problem I absolutely should, considering the demanding needs. I just can’t always bring my self to do so, the will for it isn’t there. I do snack though.”

dark chocolate: turn ons?

“Ooohh boy... Now this one has me turning a bit red here. I mean there is biting and tight holds, the usual stuff. But... I’m not gonna list a lot here, a turn on can be blindfolding me if I trust my partner enough.”

fudge: turn offs?

“Being an asshole, for one.”

peach: how do you relax?

“A nice cup of tea, maybe some soft music, and let my mind unwind a little. That’s if I’m alone. Otherwise a gentle conversation with a friend about small things... Once upon a time long ago I would have said long hugs or cuddling. Not an option these days.”

praline: a popular book you haven’t read yet?

“I’ve not read The Golden Compass, that has been on my to do list.”

superman: do you like sweaters?

“Weird how this one is with sweaters... but yeah I can enjoy sweaters in the right weather. They can be soft and warm, comfy. Great for cold days.”

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

“I drink both actually. But if I have the option for a good tea I’m going to take it without hesitation. Yet the spark of energy from Coffee can’t be denied.”

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

“Without a doubt, Taisho-goto. Have you seen one of those? It’s so intricate and amazing, and can sound wonderful. It can be used to play all sorts of things. Fascinates me that the item was half inspired by a typewriter.”

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

“Oh a few times actually. It’s been a good long while now since I’ve gone that far, but it’s come close. But once upon a time this has happened!”

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

“To Become A Functioning Website.”

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

“Now that’s just kissing and telling...” (( I’d also have to tag and dont wanna spam. ))

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

“Oddly specific, but... Variations of ‘One time she punched me in the face. It was awesome.’. “

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

“Uh, natural and colorless? I’ve not painted my nails in a while.”

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

“I have yes.”

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

“Again, yes. We’re not gonna go into this can of worms.”

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

“Sometimes. There comes the occasion when one does get exhausted and needs a damn nap.”

mint: the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?

“Get way too flustered and accidentally admit I liked someone.”

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

“Completely! You say we’re going to get Sushi and you have my full attention.”

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

“Home unfortunately.”

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

“Nope! I’m thankful for that, but one day I have no doubt that’s going to change.”

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

“Mochi green tea, chocolate chip mint, red bean, Strawberry shortcake... Gelato raspberry or orange cream.”

#About Yang #Headcanon #(( THERE I DID IT. ALL THE ICE CREAMS )) #(( this was exhausting on the hands and brain i died. )) #(( but also did my best ))

[groundzerobakugo]

running with the wolves // e. kirishima; werewolf

 gender in this imagine will be female, if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

word count: 4.6k

summary: you and your best friend were attacked by a wild animal during a camping trip, and as the sole survivor of the attack, it left you with more than just scarring. a redheaded werewolf realizes what had happened to you, and offers his help.

...

  “we’re gathered here to today to mourn the death of a wonderful soul.”

  you’d sat on the steps of the church with a heavy heart in the pouring rain, just a simple hoodie over your head.

  “an angel who was taken from us too soon.”

  tears dribbled down your cheeks, small sobs racking your insides.

  “they were only nineteen, with their whole life ahead of them, but god had chosen a different path for them.”

  there was a bitter taste on your tongue as you listened to the priest prattle on about your friend.

  “while only here a short time, they’d touched the hearts of all of us here.”

  it was supposed to be a simple, short, and fun camping trip.

  “please join us in prayer as we say goodbye to our beloved angel.”

  the worst that could happen was you forgot the tent and had to sleep out under the stars, or they’d forgotten the bug spray and the two of you would complain about the mosquito bites for the next week or two. not some wild beast tearing through your campsite and ripping your best friend to shreds right in front of you. not leaving you alone in a hospital for weeks as doctors attempted to heal your wounds, both mental and physical.

  the church doors began to creak open, and you stood in a haste, taking a random direction down the street and hurrying away before your friend’s parents could see you. they didn’t blame you, they never would, but you did. you blamed yourself, and you could never forgive yourself.

  especially since you became the thing that killed her.

  it had been the first night out of the hospital, almost a month after the attack when you’d had the first transformation, the only transformation so far. it only made you wish even more that the beast had finished you off before fleeing as the park rangers appeared.

  bones breaking and clicking back into place, your skin ripping apart and pulling back together, your body lighting itself on fire and a wave of ice coming to ease the flame. five whole hours of excruciating pain; of bones breaking, skin tearing, skin alight, and head exploding. you’d never felt so powerless, so helpless, so weak than that first transformation.

  the memory made you flinch, and you shook your head to be rid of it.

  down the street, you could smell the bakery on the corner, and just a little ways further the flower shop you’d worked at in high school, and one shop down from there the deli. in the opposite direction, there was the fast-food chain restaurant your friend and you used to frequent, and then the bitter old woman who lived above a pawn shop who had tomatoes growing along the porch. all of which, you could smell despite still standing a couple blocks down from each shop.

  you could hear the employees in the coffee shop shit-talking customers from the back of house, and the businessman yelling at his secretary for buying the wrong gift for his wife from the firm a couple hundred feet away on the sixth floor, and the homeless man and police officer chatting down the alleyway just down a few buildings clear as day.

  it was a symptom that came with the disease of turning into a beast once a month. every single sense was heightened; sight, sound, taste, touch, smell. one of the many, along with quickened healing, faster metabolism, enhanced stamina, agility, and strength.

  the rain continued to pour from the sky, and you dipped into a random coffee shop to take cover. it wasn’t too crowded, just a few people seated here and there. most had their laptops out, a few notebooks; they must have been college students. coming into the coffee shop to finish up assignments and studying for upcoming midterms.

  you should have been one of them, you thought bitterly.

  someone bumped into you, and a fire lit in the pit of your stomach, anger that came with the disease. deep breaths. it was an accident, they’re not actually trying to hurt you. you turned towards the girl, slight scowl on your face.

  “i’m sorry! i totally wasn’t watching where i was going!” a girl apologized.

  you shook your head. “it-it’s fine. don’t worry about it.”

  “let me buy you a drink to make up for it,” she offered.

  you hesitated.

  “i insist, please. what do you want? coffee, cappuccino, latte, macchiato?”

  “you don’t have to--”

  “i’ll get you a chai tea latte,” she said, already turning to approach the register.

  it didn’t look like you had a choice, and you stuffed your hands into your pockets with a huff, joining her in line. “make it a dirty chai.”

  she looked at you from the corner of her eye, a smile creeping up on her lips. “i’m ashido, by the way.”

  “(name),” you said. “nice to meet you.”

  “pleasure’s all mine,” she replied. “do you go to the college down the street?”

  “used to,” you muttered.

  her eyes widened. “you already graduated?!”

  with a shake of your head, you said, “dropped out.”

  “oh, gotcha. i mean, college isn’t right for everyone. hell, i never even started. too dumb for that stuff,” she laughed.

  the conversation was put on hold as she told the barista the order. the girl had the pinkest, cotton-candy, bubblegum pink hair you’d ever seen, and it was obvious she kept up with it. her roots weren’t even tinged with whatever natural color she had, and she’d even dyed her eyebrows to match. she must have gone to a beauty school of some sort; there was one just a few stores down from the coffee shop, she probably went there.

  “where would you like to sit?” she turned to you, shoving a platinum credit card into her wallet.

  you bit your lip. “oh, i... i really shouldn’t.”

  making friends wasn’t on your to-do list. not with the new disease, the one that made you turn into a wild animal and a danger to society. you couldn’t risk anyone finding out, nor could you risk accidentally hurting someone. until you found a cure, you wouldn’t allow yourself to make friends.

  “awh, please? at least until my friends show up?” she pouted, round, golden eyes pleading with you.

  “i... i don’t know--”

  “pretty, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

  come on, (name), she just bought you a dirty chai. it’s the least you could do.

  “i guess,” you said.

  a bright grin spread across her face. “thank you so much!”

  you nodded. “sure.”

  ashido led you to a small table near the window, and you sat down, your eyes glued to the downpour outside. a mother and her child walking down the street, umbrella over their heads and bright yellow rain boots on the child’s feet. a man in a tracksuit running down the street on his daily jog despite the rain. a young girl in her twenties walked by the shop window, balancing an umbrella in one and texting on her phone with the other.

  mundane, simple, and yet you craved that simplicity.

  “(name)?” ashido asked, leaning over to wave her hand in front of your face.

  you blinked, turning away from the window and to the company across the table. “sorry.”

  she shook her head. “it’s fine! we all blank out sometimes. but, i was asking you if you hang around here often, i’m sure i’ve seen your face before.”

  your lips straightened into a frown. “i... i was on the news, and i was in the paper about two months ago.”

  her eyebrows furrowed. “really? what for?”

  a weight laid on your chest, and you swallowed around a large ball of emotion in your throat. “my friend and i were camping when we were attacked by some wild animal. she, uh, she died, completely torn apart and unrecognizable.”

  her jaw dropped, and her eyes glistened with pity. “oh my god,” she said in a hollow voice. “i’m so, so sorry.”

  “don’t be,” you muttered. “her funeral was today, she had a good service, she would have hated it.”

  ashido’s eyes softened. “well, it’s good you went to the funeral.”

  a snort. “i didn’t.”

  “b-but--”

  “i sat outside crying, and afterward, i came to a coffee shop to get out of the rain and got a free drink,” you said, voice dull, emotionless, monotonous.

  the girl opened her mouth, but you stood abruptly and cut her off.

  “your friends are here, i should get going. thanks for the drink.”

  you turned robotically on your heel, passing by a group of loud boys arguing and laughing over something trivial from outside. a blond with a permanent scowl, another blond with a streak of black in his hair shaped like a lightning bolt that looked like he was trying all too hard to be edgy, a black-haired boy choosing to stay the neutral party and laugh of the angry blond’s expense, and finally a redhead with bright eyes and a wide smile.

  the redhead took a step back, his shoulder bumping hard into your back and sending you stumbling forward. a surge of heat filled you, and you closed your eyes, beginning to take a few deep breaths. it’s fine, everything’s fine, just an accident, just like earlier, it’s all go--

  “oh shit, sorry! didn’t see you there!” the redhead spinning around from his friends, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “are you okay?”

  “fine,” you grumbled and stalked out of the coffee shop.

  kirishima turned back to his friends; a weird feeling nestled deep in the pit of his stomach, something so foreign and yet so familiar.

  “you good, bro? that chick looked ready to blow up,” kaminari said.

  “yeah, i’m good!” his eyes followed you as you passed by the window, his smile fading slightly. “i’m gonna go sit with ashido. order me something?”

  “sure, bro.”

  kirishima walked over to ashido’s table, the pink-haired girl had wide eyes and bit her lip anxiously. the boy’s brows furrowed. “you okay?”

  ashido’s eyes focused on the redhead. “that girl... she’s the one from the news a couple months ago.”

  “what do you mean? who?” the redhead asked.

  “the girl who bumped into you,” she replied. “she... her and her friend... they were attacked by a... you know, and her friend fucking died.”

  kirishima’s heart plummeted. he’d seen the news report. two local young women had gone camping in the mountains; one had been completely torn to shreds, unrecognizable, and the other looked just as bad, but she had just enough of a pulse for the doctors to try everything they had to help her. they said it had to have been a bear, or a wolf, maybe even a mountain lion.

  but it wasn’t, and the redhead knew exactly what had attacked them. and he knew that being the survivor left you with more than trauma and scars. but, unlike him, you didn’t have anyone to help you.

  he set his jaw and looked out the window. he had to find you.

...

  you woke in a cold sweat, your head pounding. it felt like you had one of the worst sicknesses you’d ever experienced, but you knew it wasn’t. that goddamned transformation was just a couple days away, and your body was preparing for it. every joint ached as you moved, but you stood from your bed and shuffled over to the window.

  the sun was still hidden and just beginning to make its way towards you, the city was just beginning to wake up and get ready for their six am jobs, and the moon overhead still peaked through the clouds; a waxing light that you would once count as beautiful. it made your stomach twist at the sight.

  you changed into a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved shirt, and slipped on a pair of running shoes. you’d found the one “cure” that came with the symptoms of an upcoming change was exercise. the beast within loved to move, and the activity seemed to wear it down just enough for you to tire out and let it allow you to fall asleep. 

  the streets were quiet with the occasional car passing through. taxis, sedans, a couple motorbikes. trucks were rare to see in the big city; a change from where your parents lived. originally, you’d moved to tokyo for college, and through it, you’d met your best friend. the same best friend whose flesh you watched get shredded and the same one whose blood stained your skin as you stared in horror at the best slaughtering her.

  an uncomfortable shiver ran through you.

  it was hard to remember what happened after you’d witnessed your friend’s slaughter. you’d remembered being terrified, frozen in fear, and your brain had shut off completely. but then, you could remember the slice of razor sharp claws entering your shoulder, ripping through you, the oddly warm blood spilling down your skin, staining your sweatshirt, the way the beast’s hot breath breathed down your neck, drool dribbling down its teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

  the next you knew, you woke up in a hospital with your parents asleep on the chairs next to your bed, your best friend’s parents next to them. you remembered asking about your friend, and then your screaming as you recalled the attack until the doctors sedated you.

  a recognizable yet unfamiliar scent crossed your path, and you stopped in your tracks. you knew all of your friends’ scents, your families’ scent, even your coworkers’. but it didn’t belong to them, it was one you’d come across once before without formerly meeting the person, yet the beast within kept it on record for reasons you knew not.

  you cast a discreet glance over your shoulder but saw no one. the sidewalk was barren, only the flower petals from the cherry blossom trees floated past and the odd piece of trash. so, deeming it to be unnecessary of your attention, you’d kept walking.

  the sun was beginning to break the horizon, and the sky lit up into a dull gray. there were a few more cars passing, and people were starting to leave their houses and apartments, bakeries now displaying colorful confections and coffee shops cracking their windows open to draw customers in with their lovely aroma. the alarm for 7:15 on your phone went off.

  a full hour, and there was still an itch to your skin; the beast wasn’t tired yet, so you shut off your alarm and started to run.

  the wind whipped at your cheeks, nose turning a light pink color. the cool morning air felt nice with the touch of fever you had, which you knew was only to get worse the next couple days until the full moon passed. you watched as the world flew by you, but your eyes could track everything perfectly as you passed, as though you were going for a light jog to see the city. 

  but then you turned a corner, and your body collided into a wall of flesh.

  you stumbled back, dazed. “sorry, i-i wasn’t watching.” you flashed them a polite smile, but then the scent you’d smelled earlier had come back--much, much stronger.

  tall, vibrant red hair perfectly spiked, bright, toothy grin. “it’s all good!”

  the smile on your face deflated a bit. “do i know you from somewhere? you...,” smell, “look familiar.”

  he laughed nervously, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “kind of? well, i think i actually bumped into at the coffee shop the other day.”

  a light flickered on in your head. “oh. now i remember.”

  “i’m kirishima, by the way,” the redhead said, smile bright.

  “(name),” you replied, almost immediately regretting it. he wanted to be friends. you didn’t want friends. not with your secret.

  his eyes scanned your face, and the smile dropped completely. “are you doing okay?”

  you scoffed. “recognize me from the news, too?”

  “what? no, i meant you look kind of sick,” he said. “sorry if that’s rude.”

  “si-sick?” your eyes widened. “no, it’s... it’s not rude, i guess? not too sure how to really answer that. when most people ask if i’m feeling okay, it’s because they know me as the girl whose best friend died and then nearly died herself, both from a freak animal attack, so to be asked because i look sick is a bit of change, and i’m rambling, sorry.”

  “all good!” he laughed. “i get it! though if you are sick, you should be at home and resting, not running a marathon outside in cold weather.”

  you sighed. “i am, but... i just needed to get out of the house.”

  kirishima’s eyes flickered with something that looked like he knew exactly what you were talking about, but you blinked, knowing he couldn’t. the chances of bumping into another werewolf were slim to none, and the redhead seemed too nice to be a terrifying beast.

  “i should be going,” you said.

  “o-oh, uh, sure! i can walk you home if you want?” he asked, a nervous smile on his face. you could hear his heartbeat quicken in his chest.

  you shook your head. “that won’t be necessary. but thank you.”

  his shoulders deflated a tad. “okay, well, i’ll see you around then!”

  “sure,” you muttered, but you weren’t so sure you would.

...

  an uncomfortable itch settled itself in your forearm, and you scratched it absentmindedly as you headed home from work. 

  you’d begged your boss for a morning shift that day, but with the serious decrease in employees due to midterms he couldn’t grant your wishes. it was possibly the longest and most painful shift you’d ever worked; however, you put on a grand smile and worked through the pain. you didn’t want anyone to grow suspicious.

  every night breeze felt like sandpaper, and your stomach was flipping, bile bubbling and threatening to crawl up your throat. every joint ached, and you had half a mind to just hide in an alleyway and hope for the best come morning. 

  but you had to keep going, had to get home into the safety of your apartment.

  you hurried towards a nearby planter and emptied the contents of your stomach into the once-pretty flowers. you stayed still for a moment, letting the strings of throw up drip onto the flower petals. when your stomach settled down once again, you stood up straight and wiped it away with the sleeve of your hoodie. there was no time for stopping, the change was coming quick.

  people cast various glances in your direction, worried eyes and concerned brows and pursed lips. they watched as you staggered along, crouched over slightly, pale and sickly looking.

  “what’s wrong with her?”

  “do you think it’s contagious?”

  “don’t you think she should be in a hospital?”

  “looks pretty bad.”

  “don’t look, i don’t want to get involved.”

  you tripped over your feet, shoulder hitting the wall, and you braced yourself against the brick, reveling in the coolness against the heat of your fever. the clouds overhead drifted through the night sky, revealing the full moon in all its glory, and the pain in your head intensified tenfold.

  whimpering to yourself, you trudged on, trying with all you effort to avoid bumping into everyone. most avoided you and made a three foot circle around you trying not to get within a certain distance.

  just a few more blocks, you told yourself.

  a few more.

  almost there.

  you stumbled, dizzy and unable to see straight. the headache that was once just an annoying buzz had become a harsh ringing in your ears, feeling as though someone was drilling into your head. you grabbed onto a lamppost before your shaky knees could collapse under you.

  something dribbled down your top lip, and you cautiously touched a trembling finger to it, eyes widening as you realized your nose had started bleeding. you stared at it for a moment, unaware of the redhead approaching you.

  “(name)?”

  you jumped and looked up. “ki-kirishima. n-not now. i...,” you gulped. “i need to get home.”

  red eyes scanned your form, “shit, you don’t have a lot of time.”

  “what—” you groaned, doubling over. a series of pops and cracks traveled down your back, spine jutting out from under your shirt and stretching the skin so tight you could almost hear it tear. “i... please, ge-get away.”

  but the redhead shook his head. “no. i’m not letting you go through this alone, not like i did.”

  your brows furrowed. “i don’t—“

  “i can help, just come with me. i’ll explain after,” he grabbed your arm and draped it across his shoulders, his free arm wrapping around your waist and holding you up.

  a scent of some sort, one that smelt of home and comfort, filled your senses, and you couldn’t help but ease into kirishima despite the pain running rampant due to the change. it filled you with a false sense of security, but one you never wanted to leave.

  you could hardly walk straight or see through the hazed cloudiness in front of your eyes, every street lamp and neon open sign burring into a sharp mix of color that hurt your eyes. but despite being unable to hold yourself up, kirishima didn’t struggle in the least to keep you upright and semi-walking.

  the streets underfoot turned into dead leaves and twigs that snapped under every step as kirishima led you into the woods. a part of you began to panic; the woods weren’t safe. there were campers and hikers, people you could potentially hurt.

  the redhead seemed to pick up on your distress immediately, and his grip on your waist tightened. “don’t worry.”

  “i-i shouldn’t be here,” you replied, your voice cutting off into a hiss as your headache worsened.

  “i won’t let you hurt anyone, okay?”

  you looked up at kirishima, his eyes and smile reassuring, but before you could reply, one of your rips popped. you screamed, dropping from his hold and falling to your knees. another one popped, and you whimpered to yourself.

  “shit,” kirishima muttered to himself. you two still weren’t deep enough into the woods. but there was nothing he could do to stop the change.

  kirishima placed a hand between your shoulder blades, rubbing it soothingly as you whimpered and groaned.

  it had felt like hours as you painstakingly went through with your second transformation. every single fiber of your being felt like it had been lit aflame; skin tearing and bones breaking. your nose and jaw stretched into a snout, fur sprouted from the little tiny hairs on your body, your wrists and ankles thickened and lengthened. and at some point, you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head and everything turned black.

...

  small rays of sunlight entered through the cracked blinds, window open just a tad to allow in the morning breeze, the scent of a bakery wafting through. there was a peacefulness to the air, and another scent that stood out before the bakery, a vague and familiar scent. the one that smelled of home and safety and strangely like the forest after it rained.

  you curled into the bed and tightened your grip on the pillow in your arms, hugging it close to you. they smelled the strongest of the curious scent, and you sighed into the pillow. whatever it was, you knew you didn’t want it to go.

  “if this is a dream, i never want to wake up,” you murmured aloud, speaking it to the gods, the deities, to kami, whoever was listening. you snuggled deep into the blanket, basking in the warmth.

  but, the side effects of the reverse change were slowly coming on as you regained consciousness. headache, nausea, chills; your stomach flipped, and you grabbed a mini trashcan from underneath the bedside table. deep crimson liquid and bits of hide and undigested meat filled the can.

  a door creaked open, and you peaked out from the curtain of hair blocking your view, seeing the redhead you’d bumped into a few days ago. his soft smile turned into a small frown. he noticed the trashcan you’d pulled into your lap and sat behind you on the bed, twisting your hair back and holding it there as you continued to puke the contents of last night’s full moon snack.

  “sorry,” he said. “it’s rough the first few months, at least until you get the hang of it.”

  you spit into the can. “thanks,” you mumbled, talking about him holding your hair back and staying with you. kirishima passed you a tissue, and you wiped your mouth with it, grimacing at the leftover taste in your mouth.

  “there’s a spare toothbrush and some mouthwash in the bathroom if you’d like.” the redhead pointed over his shoulder. “you clean up, i’ll take care of the trashcan and make some coffee. then, i’ll explain everything.”

  you could only nod, heading towards the bathroom.

  it didn’t take long, and you were thankful to get the taste of vomit and blood out of your mouth, even removing a tendon from between your teeth. you sat back down on the bed and curled your knees to your chest. the smell of comfort and home was still prominent in the air, and you breathed it in deeply. an action that caused kirishima to blush as he entered the room again, clearing his throat as he offered you a cup of coffee.

  the redhead sat down opposite to you, and you waited for him to speak.

  “i know i said i’d explain everything, but...,” he looked up, sheepish smile on his face, “i’m not too sure where to begin.”

  “well, i’m a... werewolf, right?” you asked.

  he nodded. “you are. and so am i.”

  “okay... how did you become one?”

  “my best friend turned me,” he replied. “he’d asked me if it was what i wanted, explained the dangers and everything. i said yes, and he helped me throughout the whole process.”

  your brow furrowed. “you were... asked?”

  kirishima nodded. “that’s usually how it goes. feral werewolves are uncommon, so, what happened to you never should have happened. however, it did, and it sucks, which is why i’m here to offer my help.”

  “you want to help me... what, exactly?”

  “well, to control the beast within and teach you everything i was taught.”

  your eyes widened. “so, there is a way to control it?”

  the redhead couldn’t help but smile at your excitement. “there is. it’s not really an overnight process, though, it took me almost six months to get the hang of everything.”

  “but it’s possible, right?”

  he nodded. “it’s definitely possible.”

  “then let’s do it,” you said, going to stand but almost immediately losing your balance from the dizziness.

  kirishima caught you with ease, and the scent from earlier increased tenfold. a blush bloomed across your cheeks. “easy. we can start soon, but first you need to rest. the change is hard the first few times, it takes a toll on your body.”

  you nodded, quietly thanking him and sitting back down on the bed.

  “the rest of the pack should be on their way, too,” the redhead said. “however, you should get some rest beforehand. trust me, you’ll need it because i can only imagine how hard bakugou’s gonna grill you about the feral wolf.”

  “bakugou...?” you asked. “and pack? like, a pack of wolves? that whole alpha, beta, omega whatnot stuff?”

  he grinned and shook his head. “kind of, but not really. it’s more just like a family. no one really bows down to anyone, and there’s no hierarchy. bakugou, though, he just likes to think he’s the alpha.”

  “ri-right,” you muttered.

  “don’t worry, everything will be fine!”

...

  okay, i’m posting this now even though it’s not even close to being done. but i feel really bad not posting any writing for a minute despite posting all of my cosplay bc hey, yall don’t follow for cosplay. yall follow for my shitty writing lmao. part two is in order, but have this for now bc i feel bad

#bnha #mha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha writing #mha writing #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha headcannons #bnha headcanons #mha headcannons #mha headcanons #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #kirishima eijirou #kirishima #eijirou #red riot #x reader #reader insert #halloween imagine #bnha halloween #mha halloween #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #oh my god this is horrible #im sorry #please forgive me for not finishing it but also forgive me for not uploading anything is y e a r s

[avengerscompound]

Mixology - The First of Many

Mixology - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count:  3399

Series Warnings:  Angst, Character death, Breaking up and making up, past trauma, pregnancy, talk of abortion, smut (vaginal sex, fingering, other things)

Synopsis:   Steve Rogers comes into your bar and after a night of flirting you take him home.  When he leaves the next day you never expect to see him again.

A/N:  This fic was written pre-Infinity War.  So while it follows canon for a while, it then veers off wildly at the end.

The First of Many

The subway is unusually crowded for the middle of a Tuesday.  People are busking and every now and again someone walks up the length of the train asking for money.  You keep change in your pocket.  Usually a small wad of crumpled up ones that you received as tips to give them so that no one is held up for too long while you search your wallet.  Every time you hand over some money Steve’s smiles at you and touches you.  It’s like he can’t quite believe you exist.

When you get to the stop Steve wants you to follow him out and he takes your hand.  “Do you always give people money?”  He asks.

“Until I run out.”  You answer.

“But you said you aren’t saving anything here?”

“Yeah, but I have a roof over my head and food.”  You shrug.

You both walk up and out into the cool New York City air.  He leads you in the direction of Central Park.  You both weave through the hawkers out the front.  Steve offers to take you on a carriage ride but you refuse, saying you don’t really like animal tourism.

As you get further in and away from the chaos of the entrance you appreciate the leafy cool of the park.  It’s quiet and feels almost clean compared to the noise and filth of Manhattan.  It’s much cooler in the park than it was in the street and you move a little closer to Steve.  He puts an arm around you.  

“You’re really warm.”  You say, leaning into him.

“Fast metabolism.”  He replies.  

“From the …”

“Yep.”  

You drop it.  He didn’t want you to see him as Captain America.  You would do your best to keep them separate.

“So what’s your plan, Steve?”   You ask.  “Where are we headed?”

“I thought we could grab some lunch.”  He answers.  

“We already passed all the good food vendors.  They have cabbage rolls and steamed dumplings out the front.”  You say.

He smiles at you and you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.  He stops and turns to face you.   He glances around nervously for a moment and then brings his lips to yours.  As your lips part and you trace your tongue over the corner of his mouth you think maybe, just maybe you’d be happy only ever kissing Steve Rogers.  That he might be end game for you.  The thought scares you, especially considering how little you actually know him.  But if this is it.  This is your person.  You might actually be happy with that.  You might actually be happy.

You’d always sworn you’d never tie your happiness to another person though.  You’ve been happy traveling.  Or you’d lied to yourself that not being miserable was the same as being happy.

He pulls away and looks down at you.  “What are you thinking?”

“Just, I don’t know Steve.  I’ve never had a boyfriend who didn’t just use me and make me feel like shit.”  You say.

“Is that who I am?  Your boyfriend?”  He asks.

You look at the ground.  “Do you want to be?  I mean, that’s the direction you’re leading this right?  I don’t mean you have to decide that right now.”  

“I’d love to be your boyfriend,”  Steve says. “I’ve never gone steady with anyone.”

His word choice makes your heart hurt.  “I’m just really scared about fucking this up.” You say.

Steve rubs your arms.  “Everyone is always scared of that.  All the time.  Don’t run, don’t crash a plane into the arctic circle.  Those are our start points.”

“Answer the phone.”  You add.

“Answer the phone.”  He agrees.

He kisses you just briefly and you both start walking again.

“I got in trouble for letting you sleep over the other week,”  Steve says.

You laugh.  “Oh really?”

“The building belongs to Tony Stark.  Did you know that?”  He asks.

You nod your head.

“He said it was reckless letting a stranger into the building and then leaving them unsupervised.”  He explains.

You laugh.  “Tony Stark said that?  As in the guy who slept his way through an entire year’s worth of penthouse covers?”

Steve laughs.  “Don’t believe everything you read.”

“So he didn’t sleep his way through an entire year’s worth of penthouse covers?”

“No, he did.”  He says with a laugh  “I think he might have been mad he didn’t get to meet you and interrogate you about your intentions.”

“Oh.  So he’s your dad?”  You ask.  

Steve rolls his eyes.  “There’s some kind of parental issues there.  That’s for sure.”

You snort laugh and cover your face mortified.  He nudges you.   “He had you investigated.” He says.

You stop walking suddenly.  “He what?”  

“He said he was worried you were a spy.  That it was too unlikely that we’d meet up in both DC and New York like we did.”  He says.

You look down at yourself and then back up at Steve.  “He thought I was a spy?  Me?  I was wearing a Pikachu onesie for most of the day.”  

Steve laughs.  “Spies come in all shapes and sizes.”

“You believed him!”  You yelp.

He runs his hand through his hair.  “No.  I just - I could see his concern.  It was strange.”

You start walking again and he takes your hand in his.  “Do you still think I might be a spy?”

“No.”  He says.  “I just wanted you to know, that I now know - things - about you that maybe you might not have wanted me to find out.”

“Oh.”  Your mind races, going through the life you’ve led.  All the things you’ve done.  All the things you’ve been through.  What parts of it he could now know without you telling him.  You slip your hand from his and cross your arms over your chest.

“None of that stuff bothers me.  I mean, none of the stuff you’ve done.  It bothers me that you were admitted to hospital so many times as a child and no one investigated your parents.”  He says.  

“Please don’t.”  You say.  

“What can I do to fix this?”  He asks.

You shake your head.   “There’s nothing to fix.”

You both walk silently for a few minutes.   A couple of times it looks like Steve goes to say something but then doesn’t.

“I’m not mad.  Or at least, I get it.  I just - that part of my life.  I’ve tried to get so far away from it.  I don’t care that you know, but aren’t you supposed to learn about things like that about people gradually under their own terms?”  You say.

“Our relationship so far hasn’t really gone in the typical direction.  Maybe you and I have different rules?”  

You shrug.  “I’m hungry.”

“Good because we’re here.”

“No. No, Steve!  We’re not eating here.”  You say.  The two of you have made your way to Tavern on the Green.  You were expecting to just walk past it.  It’s a beautiful old building, but the prices are ludicrous.

“You don’t like it?”  He asks looking a little crestfallen.

“I don’t know if I like it.  I’ve never been.”  You say.  “It’s too expensive.”

“This was built when I was about 16 I think.  When people around me all started dating.  I always imagined this would be the place you’d take that special girl.  I couldn’t have afforded it even if I had one.  But girls never looked twice at me anyway.  I remember thinking that ‘not in a million years would I have a girl or the money to afford this place’.  It was like a dream I tortured myself with.  Turns out, it didn’t take a million years.  Just one hundred.  Now I have the money.  Do I have the girl?”  He holds out his hand and you take it.

“You have to book.  I’m not dressed for it.”  You complain as you walk down the covered path to the door.  

“You look beautiful and let’s see how far my name can get me.”

Turns out pretty far.  They greeted him at the door excitedly and sat you in the middle of the room so everyone could see that Captain America had chosen to dine there.  You feel awkward.  You don’t belong here.  You wouldn’t feel like you belonged here if you were the one behind the bar.

You order a risotto and Steve orders steak.  You talk him into getting a cocktail.  You order a Queens and he orders a Brooklyn.  

As you eat you relax.  The conversation is light.  Steve tells you about the things he used to get up to as a kid.  What led him to be accepted in the Army.  More about his friend Bucky.  You tell him about your time in Amsterdam.  About the first time you drank absinthe.  It’s nice.  It feels like how dates look in movies.

“As fancy as this place is, all I can think is that a giant dog thing is about to attack Rick Moranis up against those windows.”  You say.

He looks at you confused.  

“You haven’t seen Ghostbusters yet?”  You ask.

He pulls out a notebook from his pocket and scribbles something down.

“What are you doing?”

“Just putting it on the list of things to catch up on.”  He says.  

“Oh shit.  Sorry, Steve.  It must suck getting these reminders that you don’t belong here.”  You say.  “Uhh… why don’t we just go watch it now?”

“No one would be playing it.”  He says.  

You laugh.  “It’s New York, someone will be playing it.  But I meant, we go watch it at home.  My place, your place, whatever.  We get popcorn and a blanket and we watch it snuggled up together.”

Steve smiles.  His eyes crease at the corners.  “I’d really like that.”

You catch the subway to Avengers Tower.  The elevator ride up is once again crowded and Steve suddenly shifts back into Captain America mode.  He straightens up and he holds his head higher.  You take his hand in yours and kiss the tip of his fingers.  He looks down at you and the smile returns.  Steve remembers he’s not here for work.

As you enter the communal living area you see the guy who he’d first come into the bar with all those months ago.  

“Cap!  There you are…”  He notices you and grins. “Oh hey, it’s hot pussy.  You’re not dead after all.  You owe me $20, Cap.”

“Hey, Sam. What’s up?”  Steve says.  It makes you a little sad that this guy who Steve obviously considers a close friend calls him Cap.  Not even his friends see him how he wants.  Or maybe he feels the need to hide from them.  He hadn’t intended on keeping you around originally. Maybe he’s scared to let people get close to Steve in case he loses them again.

“It’s about our friend.”  Sam answers.

Steve turns to you.  “This is about work.  I’ll get the popcorn.  Can you maybe wait for me in my room?  If you just start talking to JARVIS he’ll help you find the movie and put it on.”

“Of course.”  You lean up and kiss him.  “Not too much work.”  

“No, this is just important to me.”  He says.  “To Steve.”  He adds.

You nod and head to his bedroom.  With the help of JARVIS, you find Ghostbusters and have it set up ready to play for when Steve’s ready.  You take off your shoes and socks and then decide you might take it a little further and pull your shorts off too.  You then climb into his bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.  

Steve doesn’t take too long and come in with a bowl of hot popcorn.  The smell fills the room and makes your mouth water.  

“Sorry about that.  Sam’s helping me find Bucky.”  Steve says.  He hands you the popcorn and takes off his shoes.

“Take off your pants.”  You say.

He looks at you and raises an eyebrow.  “We aren’t done with the date yet.”  He says.

“No pants is comfortable not necessarily sexy.”  You say.

“Did you take your pants off?”

You lift the blanket up and show him your panties.  He smirks and starts taking off his trousers.  

“If you’ve got a lead on your friend and you want to follow it, you don’t have to stay here with me.”  You say as he climbs into the bed.  

Steve’s face fell.  “No, nothing.  Sam was just back from following a lead.  It was cold.”

“If your friend doesn’t want to be found, maybe you should let him not be found.”  You say.

Steve shakes his head.  “He’s not himself.  He needs help.”

“Have you heard of him being violent or committing crimes or whatever?”  You ask.

“No, he’s been silent.”

“Maybe he’s okay, and just dealing with what’s wrong with him.  Maybe he just needs time.  Trust me, as a girl who hasn’t wanted to be found for quite a while, sometimes you gotta just let people stay lost.”  

The look that passes over Steve’s features is pure pain.  His brow knits, and he closes his eyes, rubbing his nose with his thumb and index finger.  “Maybe I’m being selfish again.  Maybe you’re right.  But I need him.”  

“What happened last time you were selfish because you needed him?”  You say, knowing this is going to hurt but also knowing he has to hear it.

He takes a large shuddering breath.  “I know.”

He turns the movie on and you snuggle down into the crook of his arm.  Halfway through the film, you start running your hand up and down the inside of his leg.  He kisses you on the top of the head.  

“I forgot how much smoking there is in this movie.”  You say.

Steve laughs.  “It is startling compared to a lot of the more modern movies.”

“Did you smoke?”  You ask.

“No.  Asthma.  I mean they had asthma cigarettes back then.  But regular ones, no.  I was a really, really sick kid. I know it’s hard to picture.  I was much, much smaller than I was pre-serum.”  Steve explains.  “I tried it once and it nearly sent me to hospital.  Bucky was freaking out.  You know when you think ‘if I don’t tell an adult about this, someone’s going to die but if I do tell an adult about this I’m going to die’.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there.”  You say.

“What about you?”  He asks.

“Smoke?  Not cigarettes.”  You say.

“Yeah, I never did that either, and now there’s no point.  Doesn’t affect me.”

As you talk your hand skims closer and closer to his cock. Your knuckles graze over it and you realize he’s hard.  Not just semi-hard, but rock hard.  

“Whatcha thinking about there, Steve?”  You ask, dancing your fingers over his length.

He looks at you obviously embarrassed.

“Don’t be embarrassed about this.”  You say.  You press your hand against his cock, outlining it against his boxers.  You run your hand upwards over his shaft.  “I’m thinking about how when we first had sex, you let me guide your cock into me.  You were so thoughtful and caring.  You knew I was intimidated, but you didn’t make a big deal about it.  You just let me take control.  It felt amazing.  No one has ever made me feel like that before.  Or since.”

Steve shudders as you talk.  When you stop you start kissing his throat, waiting for him to find his voice.  “I was thinking about your mouth.  How much I’d like it if you were to do that again.”

“I can do that again.”  You say.  “You want me to do it now?  While you watch the movie?”  Your hand is still stroking up and down his length.

His breath hitches and he pulls you into a kiss.  It’s frantic like he’s lost control and he’s trying to find it again in the kiss.  He pulls abruptly and you gasp.  Taking in a sudden lungful of air.  You weren’t even aware of how completely out of breath you were.

“Yes.  Please.  While we watch the movie.”  He says.

You scoot down so you're crouched between his legs.  The blanket is covering most of you, just your head is uncovered.  “Steve,”  You say, pulling his cock free.  “I know you do the one night stand things as a way to balance out the way you feel about moving on.  So I know I’m not your first.  Whoever you’ve been with before me, I’d like to go personally thank, because those women have helped you become a pretty fucking fantastic lover.  I also know that there probably isn’t many of them and that maybe you still don’t … I don’t know the word to use - own - your sexuality.  Do you know what I mean?”

Steve takes a deep breath in and nods his head as he releases it.  “That I’m still 1940′s sensibilities, scrawny wimp shy about it.”  He says.

You laugh and run your tongue up his considerable length.  “I have however been with a lot of men.  You are aware of that right?”

He nods.  “I assumed so. It doesn’t bother me.”

You swirl your tongue over the head of his cock.  “I’ve tried a lot of things.  Most of the things I’ve tried I’ve enjoyed to some level or another.  Depending on my partner.  Some people don’t even make kissing fun, to be honest.  That’s not you though.  So if you want to try something.  If you have thoughts that you think can’t possibly be okay to have.  Don’t be shy to bring them up.  Maybe I’ll say no, more likely I’ll say yes.  They won’t make me scared of you.  Sex doesn’t scare me.  Love scares me.”

You take the head of his cock into your mouth and suck on it, moving your tongue over the top. You start moving your head down, opening wide to fit him, straightening your throat so as to avoid gagging too soon.  When he’s as far as you think you can comfortably take him you pull back.  You use your tongue to massage under his shaft and you stroke the base of his cock with your hands.  You start to bob your head up and down, sucking and licking as you do.  Occasionally you’ll pull off completely each time sucking hard on the head.  You then flatten your tongue and run it from the base to the tip.  Or you plant open mouth kisses up his length.

You drop your head lower on occasion, lapping up from his perineum to his balls while you stroke his cock with your hands.  He responds strongly to this so you start to tease his asshole with your fingers.  Circling them around it and pushing down without actually entering him.  He groans and his hips buck.  

You move your mouth back to his cock, but you keep your fingers on his ass.  His breath is coming in shallow and he is making soft mewling sounds.  You move faster taking his cock as deep as you can.  To the point that you gag a little before pulling back.  You push your finger on his asshole, there is resistance and he groans loudly as your finger slowly eases inside of him.

You start moving your finger in and out, tickling his prostate as you work your mouth on his dick.  

“Oh god.” He pants then groans loudly.  “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

He comes with a grunt.  Spilling into your mouth.  You drink him down.  Lapping your tongue over his cock, making sure you get every last drop.

You pull away from him.  His eyes are glazed over a little and he looks dazed.  You kiss him on the brow and jump out of bed dashing to the bathroom.  You wash your hands and have a drink of water before returning to Steve.  He pulls back the comforter and opens his arms wide.  You climb back into bed with him, snuggling against his chest.

He leans down and kisses you.  It was clear he was going for a quick peck, but you alter it.  Make it deeper.  You push your tongue into his mouth and he yields to you.  The next half an hour or so is spent making out and dry humping like a couple of teenagers.  All thoughts of Zuul and the stay puft marshmallow man pushed completely aside.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #angst #mixology #the first of many

[derangedhyena-zoids]

Soooo

I'm going to talk about Zoids being edible and that apparently has the potential to be bothersome so I'm going to put it under a cut:

For modern day humans: Vegetarianism is more common on Zi than not. This is more due to the practical limitations of their climate, it's more productive and water-wise to grow x amount of plants than it is to raise x amount of animals. They do have animal products however (egg, milk, wool etc) because that's what early human colonists brought the (test-tube) animals with them for, and that mindset never really went away (especially given the severe scarcity issues that'd crop up now and again over human history on Zi.) But they also have plant-based equivalents and they're more common (read: cheaper)  

Most meat is lab-grown, or comes from farmed animals that outlived their usefulness. Rich folks might raise their own meat-animals independently - it's probably a status thing (hi I'm having this gross thought of people relishing 'animals with bones' please shoot me thanks). Cities probably have big indoor hydroponics/aquaponics setups to support local population density and reduce reliance on imports.

Humans on present-day/NC0 Zi never ate Zoids or Zoid products because by that point in time they find it really weird (like eating your fucking car) and it's likely toxic (bc: human-built Zoids hyper-concentrate waste products and don't expel them regularly; it's very heavy-metals rich, you'd get poisoned.) It may have been a survival-situation thing in the past, but even then it'd probably be looked upon the same way as people deciding to eat their sled dogs.

So, that's humans, let's talk about Zoidians and Organoids

Since Zoid Cores are supposed to be all the viscera compressed into one unit, that must not just be edible, it's probably fucking amazing if you need food. Especially given the size of one Core versus a Zoidian. It could feed several families.

In a previous post I detailed that docile Zoids in Zoidian settlements had some of the cores they laid used as food because that was a HELL of a lot easier than hunting actual wild Zoids. Over time I'm guessing that some smarter wild Zoids perceived this tradeoff and more-or-less domesticated themselves for the chance to be fed, doted on, and protected from their bigger, nastier predators (and the wild Organoids.)

So with this I'm going to posit that "modern" Zoidians were technically VEGAN because of their plant-and-Zoid-based diet ... because is it really an issue when you can communicate with the creature providing you with the sustenance-object? The Zoids weren't being killed, exploited, confined, or anything of the sort. They were free to move about, they just tended to stay with their own family groups (territory) which worked out for everyone. (Wild Zoids existed but were largely left to their own devices.)

Even unfertilized Organoid eggs were probably eaten, because Organoids would need to consciously control their population. An Organoid acting as a female will produce _a lot_ of eggs in good circumstances. A LOT. A LOT A LOT. That's why they became so many so quickly and were such a problem in the first place.

And I mean, it seems really weird I guess to our sensibilities, but if you had a creature that's just like HERE'S SOME EGGS I MADE THEM 4 U like... of course you're going to be like wow thanks, this is great

Q: why are you making this shit up A: because

So anyways, yes. Substantially different diets and food-cultures h o o r a y I guess

(low-key I imagine that the lack of Something Dietary is what prompted Fiona to pour salt in coffee all the fucking time, I imagine Hiltz and Ryss were excessive consumers of salt too because really, Zoid-Cores were described as internally mimicking a pressurized-seawater environment, so.... salty.)

Organoids can both eat and metabolize energy directly through fusing with a Zoid (which became infinitely more common after Organoids were domesticated.) They obviously prefer Zoid Cores as a source of sustenance, because that's what they initially evolved hunting for/feeding on and then fusing overwhelmingly became how they lived. The ability to eat never went away, as they probably got table scraps constantly because they're big metal dogs

This means they can consume whatever, but the vast majority of non-Zoid food is incredibly nutrient-poor for them annnnd they won't have a good time.

Q: STOP? A: no, actually

While I'm talking about Organoids, because I'm trash, a few additional points on unrelated topics  

Organoids can freely switch their bio-gender just like Zoids, but if they have a bondmate they take on that bondmate's gender and reproductive role. you better believe sex is THE SHIT in a Zoidian household, bondmates' Organoids tend to like one another (and in fact, often like one-another before any attraction develops between the Zoidians themselves) so uh... yeah that's a thing

this gon get awkward in modern times, guys

I really really think One is an exception and doesn't have a technical gender, he's a "he" because of Vega but he cannot reproduce. (I honestly think between Vega's genetics and being bound to One, there is no way he's successfully fathering kids when he grows up either)

mmyhea, that's it I guess    

#headcanon #if this doesn't make you reconsider your decision to follow this shitpost of a blog you're in the right place

[hms-chill]

(Not a) Hugger

Summary: It's been a few years since Grantaire was hugged. Or cuddled. Or touched for any length of time.Which is fine. Really.

Except that it isn't fine, and he would very much like to be hugged, but the only thing worse than being touch-starved would be seeming needy.

OR: Grantaire communicate with your friends god damn it

Trigger warning for the mention of an eating disorder. Grantaire's mostly better, but it's mentioned a few times, as is past abuse.

Grantaire can't remember the last time he was hugged. It was probably in high school, as part of one of the big group hugs that always followed successful soccer games the one year he played, so it's been about seven or eight years. Which is fine; he just doesn't think about it. He doesn't think about it when Cosette comes into the Musain for a meeting and hugs everyone, even Enjolras, who gives in and hugs her back, and they both look more relaxed when they separate. He doesn't think about it when she gives anyone going up for a speech a hug, and they relax enough to stay put together. When he gives a speech at a rally, just to get one of those hugs and gets instead a squeeze on the arm, he doesn't think about the fact that it's been years since anyone hugged him.

When he's at a movie night with Joly, Bossuet, and Munchetta, he doesn't think about how much he wants a hug. They'll pile onto each other, cuddling close, but that's fine. Grantaire gets the popcorn to himself, and he doesn't feel left out. He most certainly doesn't think about how much he'd like a hug when Combeferre mentions the effects of touch starvation in a meeting about prison injustice. He talks about it as a cruel and unusual effect of isolation, and Grantaire tries his hardest not to think about how his irritability and insomnia sound a lot like the evils Combeferre is upset about. He knows how it feels to be isolated, and he recognizes the feeling of being alone in a room full of people who claim to love him (and likely do, despite his infinite failures). But that's fine. He can live with all that. He just doesn't think about it.

Except that he does think about it, almost every day. He thinks about it a lot on bad days, when the eating disorder he thought he kicked out a few years ago rears its ugly head to remind him that no one would ever want to touch his body. On even worse days, he thinks about it when he hears his father's voice telling him that no one would ever touch him unless they wanted to hurt him. On the worst days, he wraps himself tightly in a blanket and pretends that's the same thing as a hug, or at least a good enough replacement. It never is, but he can pretend.

In his better moments, his rational brain reminds him that he could ask someone for a hug, but he can never bring himself to do it. If Cosette hugs everyone but him, there must be a reason, and it has to be that there is something wrong with him (the voice of the eating disorder points to the spare tire around his middle that's developed since it ruined his metabolism). If Joly cuddles with Bossuet and Munchetta all the time, it's because they're dating, and Grantaire can't disrupt their relationship any more than he already does. If Courfeyrac hugs everyone else, it's clearly only because he and Grantaire have the world's best secret handshake, and it would be a pity to miss even a single opportunity to use it. Besides, he can't impose on any of his friends. Asking them to hug him would make them uncomfortable, so he doesn't say anything, and if things get worse, he pretends not to notice.

The worst part is that he's not sure why. If he knew why his friends don't hug him, despite the fact that they all hug each other, it might be easier. 'You smell', 'I don't want to', or even just 'bad vibes' would be easier to deal with than the options his shit brain gives him. But he doesn't know, and if he asks anyone, they'll know he's upset by it and everything will be ruined. They'll either hug him out of necessity or continue to ignore him, and he's not sure which would be worse.

It all boils over after a movie night turned sleepover at Combeferre's. Grantaire wakes up before his friends to see nearly all of them cuddling someone. Feuilly's head is on Bahorel's chest, and Jehan is held under his arm. Joly is sandwiched between his partners. Enjolras is holding Combeferre's arm while Courfeyrac hugs his boyfriend from behind. Even Marius, who never wants a partner and is usually not a cuddler, is snuggled up with them, his back pressed against Courfeyrac's. Eponine and Cosette are cuddled close, Gavroche clinging to Eponine's back like a spider monkey. But Grantaire, despite being very available for cuddles, is left out of every single pile. He puts on his shoes and slips out the door. He can't do this. He can't watch from the outside as all his friends love each other; it might destroy him.

Joly finds him later, in his own apartment, sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at a dark TV screen. His hair is still damp and sweaty from the hardest run of his life, his breakfast sits untouched on the coffee table, and he's not sure if the salt on his face is from sweat or dried tears. He'd like to blame the tears on the wind, but it's a still day.

Joly sits beside him on the couch, then reaches over to squeeze his hand. That tiny touch is nearly enough for Grantaire to break down again.

"We missed you when we woke up this morning. Bossuet thought maybe you'd come back for your bag, but he had to work, so I brought it over. Do you want to talk?"

Grantaire shakes his head. It would be so easy to lean over and flop into Joly's lap. Just a simple fall, and he'd be touching his friend, and things would be, if not okay, so much better than the pressing loneliness he's used to. But he can't. Joly doesn't hug him, and there must be a reason, and he can't make his friend uncomfortable.

"Alright, well, I just wanted to let you know that we missed you. We love you, R. Do... do you mind if I stay for a bit? It looks like it's going to rain, and that means the bus will be crowded, and we both know people don't respect the handicapped seats nearly enough for me to want to deal with them right now."

"Please do. You can turn something on if you want. Sorry I smell." I'm sorry you're trapped with someone like me. I'm sorry for being a disgrace of a person. I'm sorry you worried. I'm sorry you have to know me. I'm sorry.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. How do you feel about Bake off?"

"It's not a great food day. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for; I'm glad you told me. I'm proud of you. How about Too Cute instead?"

"That sounds good."

"Perfect."

Joly loads an episode called "Super Pups: Pint Sized", his hand never leaving Grantaire's. They watch quietly, the sounds of rain starting to fall outside complementing the show's bouncy soundtrack. But "Super Pups" autoplays into a kitten episode, and when it opens on a shot of the kittens piled up together, Grantaire feels the icy grip around his insides tighten. He swallows hard, then takes a deep breath and tells Joly he's going to the bathroom. He finds a discarded flannel there to muffle the tears he's been trying his best to ignore.

A few minutes later, there's a soft knock on the door.

"R? Can I help, Love?"

"I'm fine." His voice doesn't sound like his. He's made Joly get up and come find him, and he's made Joly worry again, and he's done everything wrong. This is why his friends don't like him enough to touch him.

"I... I want to help you, R, I do. Please know that. I'm sorry for holding your hand; I know you don't like to be touched. That was--"

Grantaire cuts him off by throwing the door open. Joly stumbles back in surprise, catching himself on the wall of the hallway.

"You... you think I don't like to be touched?"

"I know you don't. I'm sorry."

"Don't... no, don't be sorry. I loved that. It... it's not you holding my hand that made me cry, I promise."

"But you hate being touched. Bossuet tried to hug you once and you flinched so hard you tripped over a couch."

The memory floods in: Grantaire, freshly at college on an art scholarship and still trying to believe that no one here wanted to hurt him, clinging to his one shot at a life away from his father. Bossuet, who'd taken two gap years and was bigger than Grantaire by a sizeable amount, coming toward him after a game night in the lounge with an arm raised in a position that Grantaire only knew as one of anger. Grantaire stumbling back, cowering, falling onto one of the lounge couches, and excusing himself to go hide under a blanket in the room he shared with Joly.

"That's... that's not... I thought he was going to hit me. I... He was so big, and so much stronger than I was, and I was just starting therapy and still trying to make myself eat a full meal sometimes instead of just going hungry, and if he'd wanted to hurt me I couldn't have stopped him. You remember how tiny I was; he could have snapped me in half, and after my dad, I wasn't at a point where I trusted him not to want to. I thought everyone hated me, and that they'd all want to hurt me, and that's what was scary. It wasn't about the hug. It was never about the hug."

"So you don't hate hugs?"

"You... you don't hug me because you thought I didn't like them?"

"We told the others, too. When we first dragged you to a meeting, Chetta told the group chat you didn't like hugs so that no one would scare you off. But you don't mind?"

"Not... ot at all. I mean, it's been... it's been a long time, but I don't think I mind hugs at all."

Joly comes back across the hallway slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal, and he wraps his arms around Grantaire and squeezes. Grantaire lets out a sob as his own arms come up to hold Joly close.

"I love you. I've got you. I'm sorry," Joly says softly, letting them sink to the floor together. "I love you, and I'll give you as many hugs as you want from now until forever."

Grantaire's not sure how long they stay there, in a pile outside his bathroom while he cries and Joly promises not to let go. It's at least until the sobs stop, but that's really no measure of time at all. When he's pulled himself together a bit, Joly pulls back just a touch and reaches up to cup his face, but Grantaire pulls back on instinct. Someone's hand near his face has never been a good thing. Joly pulls his hand away and squeezes Grantaire's arm instead.

"So your face isn't a place you're comfortable with me touching. I'm sorry. I should have asked. But I... R, I'm sorry about this, but my leg doesn't like being on the floor very much. Is it okay if we move this hug to the couch?"

Grantaire nods, trying his best not to be embarrassed of his flinch. Or his tears. Or the fact that he'd just broken down completely at a simple hug from a friend. There are a lot of things for him to be embarrassed of from the last hour, ever since Joly found him staring at a blank TV.

"Is it okay if I take your hand?" Joly asks, and Grantaire nods, so Joly holds his hand and leads the way to the couch. Too Cute is paused on the image of a kitten wobbling across a blanket.

"I'm going to go make some popcorn, and then I'm going to come back and cuddle the hell out of you while you eat it for breakfast," Joly says. "If you want to, when I get back, we... we could do something called green-yellow-red that Cosette taught me. It'll help us make sure we're both comfortable while we're cuddling, so for example, today, I'm... my chest and arms are green, and so's my back and shoulders, really anything from the waist up. So go for it with hugs there. My face I'm going to say yellow, and same with my hips and my good leg, so just ask and I'll let you know in the moment. My bad leg's red, so I'd rather you didn't touch it. Oh, and the top of my head is green. Does that make sense?"

Grantaire nods, doing his best to remember. He can't mess this up. If he ruins cuddling with Joly now, he might never get a second chance.

"And it's alright if you make a mistake; I can let you know if I'm ever uncomfortable. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me on purpose; you'd never hurt anyone. Is it alright if I kiss the top of your head?"

"It's... it's nasty. I haven't been great at showering recently, and I went for a run."

"I don't mind, but do you?"

Grantaire thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. A few weeks ago, Cosette had taught everyone a game she used in consent workshops where they practiced saying yes or no, and she'd pushed them to make the choice in that moment however they felt. Grantaire is trying his hardest to make her proud.

Joly brings over a blanket and presses a kiss to the top of Grantaire's greasy, sweaty head before disappearing into the kitchen. As he hears popcorn start to pop, Grantaire takes stock of his body, trying to decide if it would help or hurt to have Joly cuddle the parts of it he (especially) hates. He's got some semblance of an answer by the time the popcorn's done, and he gives Joly an assessment that includes a green 'spare tire' (a phrase that makes Joly frown) and a red face. Joly repeats Grantaire's requests, asking about parts he forgot and referring to the spare tire as a stomach, which is probably the kindest thing anyone's called it since it developed. Then he hands Grantaire the popcorn and cuddles up next to him, stealing pieces from the bowl and always keeping at least one arm firmly around Grantaire.

When Bossuet gets off work, he joins them with pizza, and they play green-yellow-red again before Bossuet joins their pile. If Grantaire has the best nap he's had in years with Joly's arms around his waist and Bossuet's chin on his head, well, he tries not to envy Munchetta when he wakes up.

The next time he sees Cosette, she asks if she can hug him, beaming. He agrees, and she holds him so close and so tightly that he forgets to see his body as a disgusting mass of fat and acne for the rest of the day. She tells him he gives wonderful hugs, and he tells her that that quote will be his next tattoo. It makes her laugh, and he can't help but grin back. He and Courfeyrac add a hug to the end of their elaborate handshake, one that involves Grantaire supporting most of Courf's weight and not caring at all. His body may not be as thin as it once was, but now it can lift his friends in the air, which is clearly a good trade. At the next rally, when Joly's leg gets sore and Bossuet has already slipped twice, Grantaire pulls his friend onto his back. Joly's arms wrap around Grantaire's neck, and Grantaire becomes the hottest mobility aide at the protest.

In short, the floodgates are open. Once it's established that Grantaire enjoys hugs, he starts getting them regularly, and he eventually starts giving them, too. He starts spending evenings squished into a chair with Joly, often with the other man in his lap and occasionally with Jehan, Chetta, Bossuet, or a combination of the three leaning against him. He carries Joly when his leg gets bad or Gavroche when he's too short to see or exhausted but too proud to admit it. He hugs Eponine, something he hasn't done since puberty, and she nearly cries telling him how proud of him she is. He does cry, and that sets her off, and Gavroche finds them crying and brings them a carton of ice cream and two spoons and leaves them be.

He hugs Enjolras last. Enjolras isn't a hugger. Even after spending most of his life with Courfeyrac, he'll lean into hugs good-naturedly, but he won't initiate. Between that lack of initiation and Grantaire's overwhelming self-doubt, it's really a miracle that they hug at all. It finally happens at Courfeyrac's birthday party, and he maintains that it is the best gift he could ever get. Enjolras has just gotten into his top choice for law school, and he doesn't want to upstage Courf, but he's so excited he has to tell someone, and Grantaire is nearby. And Grantaire is thrilled, and he's so excited that hugging Enjolras feels like the most natural thing in the world. That, of course, tips their friends off to something major, which ends up stealing the moment for a bit as Grantaire and Enjolras find themselves in the middle of a giant group hug. But when Grantaire looks up to see Enjolras's grin, everything feels just right.

On AO3

Notes:

You know when you're just minding your own business, then suddenly your brain goes "hey, when was Grantaire hugged last?" and you have a mild crisis about your beautiful touch-starved son? Yeah. - To make things worse, I like to think of physical touch as one of Grantaire's main love languages, so he's just been casually not believing his friends love him for like seven years. - The consent games mentioned are ones we've done for the play I'm working on! Green-Yellow-Red is pretty explained, but for the other (yes/no), you all stand in a circle. You say someone else's name, and they say either 'yes' or 'no'. If they say 'yes', you walk to stand by them and it's their turn. If they say 'no', you ask someone else. It's super simple but I love it and think it's super important.

#cuddling #grantaire #i love my son #hugging #grantaire deserves a hug #Les Miserables #les mis fic #les mis #joly #my other son #they're all my sons/daughters/nb children #consentual cuddling

[parrishes-writes]

soft oc asks: genevieve

taken from here!!! @ocelotsflatass here's more about the bae

🌹 Viv honestly feels most at home either out in nature, or in a library. She feels very small, out in nature, but also extremely alive and in a way that’s extremely comforting for her. Libraries... Viv loves libraries--they’re peaceful, and organized, and provide such good services... she can’t say enough good things about libraries. Dante makes her feel at home--he’s welcoming, and kind, and just so... soft and caring with her. For Viv, home is a place or a person you can always come back to, something or someone that you’ll always be happy to see. 

🍄 Anything salty. She likes salt and carbohydrates, but tries to eat well because she doesn’t have a naturally active metabolism, and, you know, you should take care of yourself. Viv doesn’t really have a comfort food per se, but she eats oyster crackers a lot when she’s feeling sick, and loves hot soup, especially matzoh ball soup. She does like to cook, especially Middle Eastern and Mediterranean food, but she only really likes to do it for other people--it doesn’t seem worth all the cleanup if she’s just cooking for herself. She’s a big fan of Instant Pot meals. She’s usually pretty good in the kitchen, but can sometimes go overboard experimenting. 

🍁 Viv usually likes to go outside if she needs space, but she can also go extremely stir-crazy, just in general, so setting aside some time and travelling somewhere new for her is usually a must. Her room is usually the place filled with all her treasured items, but she doesn’t really have a designated spot specifically for comfort. Viv likes to go deep, deep into nature, so deep that the outside world seems like a distant dream, to the point where she does have to worry about how to take care of herself. The problem is that there’s really no such thing as silence anymore, and there’s nowhere to go to get away from the noise, even in the wilderness. (this is an interesting read about this topic) 

🍂 Viv does enjoy hugging, and she does enjoy hugs--within reason. She has no problem initiating hugs with other people, and doesn’t mind being hugged, but she doesn’t like bear hugs, or spooning--anything that makes her feel like she’s being smothered or crushed, she’s not a fan of. She tends to show affection pretty much the same way for friends and for family, just varying in intensity, but for a significant other... there’s an intimacy and delicacy, a deliberateness, that isn’t really there for anyone else. There’s so much devotion. 

🌻 She loves light, and growth, and greenery... a good sunrise or sunset or a beautiful day can just fill her up with joy. Beautiful light, a beautiful sky, a beautiful sea... there’s so much beauty in nature, in the motions of living. 

🌾 Incandescent. Kind. Gentle, but so much strength hiding underneath all of it. Patient. Compassionate. Feisty, after a fashion. Capable. Irreplaceable. Driven. Strong. 

💐 Viv rarely gets sick, so when she does, she goes down hard. She really hates being bedridden or forced to stay home; in her mind, if she can move, she can work, which is not at all true. Zoe used to make sure all her physical needs were met, forcing fluids, making sure she was taking her medicine, keeping the room humid, hot showers, whatever. Dante will do his best to make her feel better, but will usually do so at her direction because he almost never gets sick either and doesn’t really know what to do when ill; mostly he just lends a sympathetic ear and hangs out with her, although Viv tends to be a loner while sick. On the other hand, Viv is a mother hen around sick family or loved ones. You name it, she’ll do it or get it. And then some. 

🌿 Her primary love language is acts of service, and it’s in the little things for Viv--cleaning your shared living space, cooking meals, doing the laundry, making the bed, taking care of all the minutiae so you don’t have to think about it. She’s too restless to be a homebody or a homemaker, but she likes to care of her space. On the receiving end, she likes words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time. Not always verbal affirmations, but just... reassurance. Someone comforting her. Feeling like a priority to someone. 

🌳If she’s feeling real stressed, she’ll let off steam in a variety of ways. Her first method of de-stressing is turning her brain off, so Netflix, rereading a favorite book, anything that will make her stop over-analyzing and grab her attention. Sometimes it’s hanging out with other people, completing a task... anything that requires her full attention, and give her something else to think about. When that fails, drink and go to sleep. (Also, fucking. Full stop. Somebody just needs to pound the bad feelings out of her.) 

🌲 Viv is highly empathetic and compassionate, which is simultaneously a great strength and a great flaw. It’s not that she’s particularly demonstrative, or weepy, but she has great insight into understanding how other people feel. She cares very deeply, and can take stuff very personally, so she has to actively remind herself that not everything is an indictment on her. When it comes to comforting others, she means well, but she doesn’t always say the right thing. She’ll ask the other person what they want her to do, which is not always particularly comforting, but she just doesn’t want to do the wrong thing. Her honesty can sometimes impede this as well. 

🌺 She rarely has nightmares, but if she does have one she’ll usually turn a light on, and try to go back to sleep. If it’s especially bad, she’ll watch or read something comforting and familiar before trying to sleep again. She doesn’t really need comfort from other people because she’s used to dealing without it, but will accept it if it’s offered. And sometimes, if you just don’t sleep, you just don’t sleep. 

🌸 She likes home, her family and friends, her significant other(s), nature, learning, animals, living, sunshine... there are more but it’s more like... she’ll know it when she sees it, you know???

🥀 Viv doesn’t really decorate most of her notebooks, although she drools over those aesthetic af bullet journals and study inspo. This is partly because her handwriting sucks and partly because she can’t draw for shit, and doesn’t really have the patience to try. Most of her notebooks are filled with just that--notes, lists, and other relevant stuff. She wants to journal, but just hasn’t fallen into a routine. 

🌼 She loves her biological family, but doesn’t always feel super close to them, due to some of their political leanings and opinions. 

Some of her found friends and family are: 

Sonali and Eli: Viv’s friends from college and, for three years afterwards, both her partners and each other’s as well. They were in a polyamorous relationship which ended after Sonali’s unplanned pregnancy, although Viv is still on excellent terms with them both, and their son, Amit. 

Zoe: Viv’s ex-girlfriend. Their differing attitudes about careers and the time + effort they put into them was a major factor in their breakup, as well as some clashes in their personalities. But despite all that, they did truly love each other and still have some residual feelings for each other. They’re still in touch and learning how to navigate being friends instead of lovers. 

Dante: he and Viv are currently in a relationship, but it wasn’t initially smooth sailing. They’re very different people which can cause tension, but they want to make their differences work together, you know? They can make it work, and more than that, they want to, and that’s what’s important. 

#oc: genevieve #text: genevieve

[twitchesandstitches]

Polypa Cosplay Comm

Commission for a hyper-muscular Polypa attempting to figure out cosplay with her massive body and a huge muscle-gut!

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

Cosplay competitions were very serious business in the circles that Polypa and Tegiri ran and sometimes fought to the death in, and it was complicated enough without the difficulties of a massive, atypical build like Polypa’s when it came to cosplay when slim and lean were all the rage now.

It was tough enough getting fitted when you had enough muscle for a whole army of sub-jugglators, let along a ab-studded muscle gut big enough to press all of them too.

In Tegiri’s hive, Polypa grunted through her masking bandages, desperately trying to pull on a special harness for anchoring clothes to a body like her’s. She was learning a few things about cosplay: the first important detail was that even when they did make something for trolls as buxom as her, getting the damn things on wasn’t actually factored in. Sure, they fit, but actually forcing your apocaly-globes into place was frustrating as hell.

The second thing was that while they made things for busty trolls, no one had factored in something like her gut.

Tegiri paced and fretted around her, doing his part to help, and they both agreed that his vastly smaller size would allow him to get at the areas she wouldn’t be able to reach on herself; she was envious that he was already fully dressed up.

The idea for both of them was to dress up like the main couple from Hardgrit Transmogrificationist, a series renowned for both the complexity of its title and the bitter fandom wars between the dozens of animated adaptations (and the very literal war between the studios adapting it, and the terrifying brownblood author). Tegiri was to be Winway Rockall, the mechanist maintaining the protagonist’s metallic limbs and serving as an emotional anchor for the story. His cosplay was simply enough; a slim tubetop, a worn bandana, and a jumpsuit made for a convincing look.

Polypa, going as the main protagonist Edowar Elrick, was having a signficantly harder time of it, given that the character was infamously small and lean, and she was… not either of those things, at all.

Polypa heaved and struggled, her massive biceps twisting like trees trying to drill to bedrock and fast-track the whole root system thing. She rocked in too-small room, her shoulders rising and falling, the air rippling around her as her violent motions did to the air what legislacerators typically did to those they accused, and all the while she tried as absolutely hard as possible to not rip the very expensive fabrics.

But the most impressive thing there was Polypa’s stomach. Well, the second most impressive thing was Polypa’s stomach. Technicallly it would normally have gotten number one status, but the dress’s continued survival, against all the odds, was somehow even more startling.

Troll guts tended to be pretty big; the prevailing scientific theory was that any troll who lived long and ate enough never really stopped growing, They tended towards bigger sizes compared to aliens of vaguely similar morphologies; larger curves, bigger hips, broader muscles, and so on. But Polypa’s metabolism had mutated in a very unusual way, layering itself into a bigger digestive tract located exclusively in her stomach like an internal furnace, dedicated to converting every bit into fuel for more muscle growth. This had resulted in her being absolutely gigantic and slabbed in so much muscle that she was nearly more muscle than troll now, and a lot of it had gone to making her stomach even bigger. Her abs encircled her gut, expanding it outwards by several feet with muscle mass alone, and the whole thing was a roundness nearly bigger than she was.

Impressive? Absolutely. A source of great pride and pleasure to her? Very much. But convenient for cosplays?

She was finding out the answer to that one was ‘fuck no, absolutely not’.

Polypa tugged and wrenched at the straps that would keep her cosplay clothing anchored and, hopefuly, safe from her muscle’s impact, but she just didn’t have the leverage to pull it right. She sighed and said, “Tegiri, I’m giving up on handling this one. Gonna need some help here.”

“Right,” came a voice near her, but out of sight. “Understood.”

Polypa looked around worriedly for Tegiri, but couldn’t see him anyway, and she tried to stand as still as possible to avoid kicking him or accidentally sitting on him, or landing her belly atop him.

The best she could say for Tegiri was that he was somewhere behind her. She could feel his dextrous claws, patiently zipping things up and assiting like an inverted gremlin; and his current role was fixing the supportive framework that would keep her cosplay outfit properly fitted once she got it on. He was buckling a supporting strap into place here, and there he tied a knot around massive thigh muscles wider across than his entire body.

Polypa turned her head backwards, squinting with the one eye not covered by her bandages. Her pupil dilated and she tried to see a hint of teal; no such luck. She was just too big, and she couldn’t make anything out past her gigantic shoulders, the outwards curve of her belly (so big it was going backwards), and the extreme musculature of her backside.

She did see some vague hint of Tegiri as he darted to the other side of her body. She felt him, rather than saw him; he moved close to one massive hip made even bigger by her muscle development, and ducked as a strap broke apart. He was on it right away, but moved at a very bad time; he approached just as she put some weight backward, her butt descending down, and it was so big, two round masses of muscle, and there was just the slightest impact from hyper-beefy butt to troll.

Polypa turned around at the instant crashing noise. There was a small grater in the hive floor, and across the room, there was a broken wall. No, several broken walls, shattered in an instant, and visible through them was Tegiri, imbedded in the wall and twitching faintly. “Shit!” Polypa said, rushing towards him. Her massive doom-globes, easily the equal of her backside but somehow looking smaller on her muscular frame, bounced and smashed some additional room through the walls as she ran towards him.

Tegiri twitched in extremely faint disapproval as Polypa charged. Her belly, that massive muscular round cannonball of a gut, left ab-shaped imprints on the walls extremely briefly before its sheer impact power totally removed them from existence. And she kept coming, nearly dropping to an animalistic lope in her instinctive drive to get to him, perhaps constantly reminding herself that her belly and rumblespheres were too big to let her do that without beaching herself.

She contented herself with just running through his walls, smashing everything in her way, and with some effort, leaning down to pull him out. Tegiri’s entire perspective was filled with nothing but Polypa; easily three times his size, larger even than a fuchsia-blood (not that they ever had a chance to see that for themselves), and his perpetually grim demeanor was almost comically understated as her fist closed around the entirety of his arm; she pulled him out of the whole with a slight ‘pop’, and very gently, she started to put him on the ground.

She reconsidered, as her belly started to lean against what was left of the hive wall when she did that and the framework made some very ominous creaking noises, and cracks. Tegiri was doing his best to be supportive and a proper moirail, but she saw him glancing at the wall, trepidation in his expression. She stood up and simply plopped him down onto her belly, just in front of her doom-rack.

Tegiri settled comfortably onto a plane of abs, sinking slightly into the very defined divide between them. “I may need to warn you of where I am at all times.”

Polypa nodded, and then when she realized that Tegiri’s view of her cleavage probably didn’t give him a view of her face, said, “Alright, I can do that.” She turned aside, staring at the walls ruefully. A few bits of bio-plastic fell down, some smaller chunks still dangling like stubborn bits of drool. “Sorry about your house. ...Again.”

Tegiri sighed. “I can afford it,��� he said, though he winced. Getting ahold of authentic replicas of Edowar’s prosthetic murder-limbs would take a longer amount of time to obstain now.

Polypa didn’t mind, per se. She enjoyed the challenge of making do with ingenious, cheap methods of cosplay, but she did mind the impact she was having on his house. “My hive is bigger. Built for my bulk; getting sick of breaking your stuff, you know.”

Tegiri’s eyes widened. “I would not banish you from my hive!” He said firmly. “Such is absolutely unacceptable for a proper moirail, for the ideals I uphold!”

Polypa extremely large lips made an indent in her bandages as she smiled coyly. “Ya don’t say.” She bent to give him a pale kiss; bearing in mind the logistical issues of this, she thrust her mighty thighs against her belly, forcing up, up; and at the same time, she grabbed her doom-globes and pushed them up with him now between them, so that Tegiri was propelled on a sea of boob and belly, right to her face.

Her mouth was covered. Even so, she felt the coolness of his skin, and the taste of his cheek. And the rush of his blushing.

Tegiri leaned in, entire face turning a lovely shade of teal, nad Polypa grinned as they parted. His face went through an interesting display of emotions, apparently trying them out until it found what that properly captured his mix of embarrassment, delight, and doing its best to hide them all. “AHEM,” he said loudly. “We, ah. Must not dawdle all day. We do have an engagement to meet!”

Polypa made an air of considering it, just to see if he would take her seriously. He didn’t take the bait, so she shrugged. Various additional muscles as big across as several highbloods moved around each other. “If you think we’ll make it in time.”

“We will! We simply have to get the harness worked out, then we can fit everything else on.”

“All right then.”

Tegiri slid down and went back to the room they had started in, and Polypa followed.

They went back to the basics, this time with Tegiri wheeling in a complicated device Polypa had gotten for him for just such an event, though this one was originally meant for trolls who were much smaller than their lusii and needed to ascend upwards to perform grooming. But it had all sorts of attachments and fold-out platforms that made it ideal for their purposes, and it was able to be tall enough to even reach up to her face, or establish scaffolds around her shoulders.

It was just extremely cumbersome, and large. Even with a tealblood’s superior strength (at least by the metric of other olivebloods; Polypa’s individual muscle fibers packed more power than entire bluebloods had, and she doubted that even a fuchsia had anything on her raw strength potential now), he panted and struggled to move the huge assemblage, and he looked a little bit like he was trying to move an old-fashioned siege tower all on his own. She took it with a hand, lifting several tons of metal and wheely bits and not even feeling the weight, placed it down in the middle of the room.

She unfolded the device, and unfurled it too, extending several scaffolds that would encircle her, and in this, she sat down, looking a bit like a beast that was at a grooming station. “I’m thinking, got too much weight up top for the bottom bits to be holding on all on their own. Fix it up around my doom-globes first, and anchor it onto my shoulders, and the rest should be nice and fit. Right?”

“I think so, yes!” Tegiri agreed. He got the rest of the cosplay harness and, ascending the grooming ladder, carefully lined it up with her back and he ascended upwards. Her back was like a topographical map of mountain ranges, some of her muscles sticking out further than the span of his arms.

It was… imposing. And they were startlingly soft to the touch. As he placed a length of supporting fabric against her, his hand sank into a thorax-girder big enough for him to sleep on.

He could feel her grinning. Possibly more a sly smirk than a big grin, but he just KNEW she was doing it anyway, the fiend.

Polypa, in turn, felt him climb up behind her, the foundations put down. Then he looped it down one of her shoulders, descending down to tie it properly, and he swung around, doing it to the other shoulder. He climbed back up, lacking the harness and strapping it properly, and Polypa glanced at a nearby Polypa-sized mirror. She looked a bit like she was wearing a corset.

She was able to work the cups of her harness over her doom-spheres, and there was barely enough to cover anything at all, but it anchored right, and that was the main thing. She gave a few tugs, and the harness remained stable, at least up top. Tegiri started to go down, but paused. “This would be even more secure if we put it around your stomach-”

“No.”

“We won’t be able to get any clothing around it like this!”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” Polypa smacked her massive belly with a smug grin; it didn’t make a slapping sound, but a resonant noise like someone striking an especially bulky drum. “I am NOT covering this beauty up. No way.”

Tegiri scowled, displeased at the disloyalty to the cosplay, but he couldn’t argue about it with her. “Well, Edowar is famously always taking his shirt off; perhaps we could work that in, somehow?” He went down and kicked the wheels in, and in a smooth motion, kicked the ladder around; it wheeled about, as if on a track, and as it went, he stopped it to affix the harness to the bits on her hips and thighs, rather like sensual garter belts (though rather strained, the muscle mass almost more than they could handle).

Several more things were locked together, clicked into place, and connected, and Tegiri pronounced it as good as it would get. Polypa slowly got up, minding him, using the vast forwards weight of her stomach to leverage herself up. She looked in the mirror again, and while it wasn’t the point, she thought she looked kinda sexy; it felt a bit odd, like wearing a full body corset. She flexed and moved, enjoying the way it moved with her swelling muscles, and the loops around the base of her very sensitive belly; now that felt right!

“Mind getting the outfit itself?” Polypa asked him, now slowly walking around and getting used to it. There wasn’t any real problem moving around, but she was trying to see if maybe flexing the right muscle would snap a bit of fabric in the wrong place or something, and break the whole thing. He nodded and came back, pushing a huge wheelbarrow big enough for him to tote several beds in. Leathery fabrics, and something red, filled it to the brim.

One by one, Polypa took out the cosplay pieces and placed them down while Tegiri had a rest. She sorted them appropriately:

Item one.  A big red coat, with the sign symbol passed down by Edowar’s teacher, Izumii. Big enough to make a decent flag out of, and a primary concern for Polypa was that this wouldn’t cover up her stomach or keep her from showing it off at all. Simple enough to work with.

Item two: shoes and gloves. She considered this one item, because it wouldn’t be too tricky to work out.

Item three: A set of metallic dress pieces, meant to fix to a limb to give the impression of a prosthetic arm and leg. Very expensive and fitted to her beefy specifications, but hopefully, with the harness… they would stay on.

Item four, and she dreaded this one: a pair of skinny leather pants, and a shirt worn over a closed vest. In theory she could go with the open shirt of later plot developments but she was going for iconic looks, and this WAS her character’s iconic outfit.

She tried not to think about it: how the hell was she supposed to get this on?

Polypa shook her head, dismissing the thought, and one by one, Tegiri returned to the ladder and helped her put it all on.

First, the prosthetics. this was not too hard, as she simply had to lock them into place around her arm and leg; they snapped on, built to interlock and function very nicely. From shoulder to fingers, and knee to toe-claws, they snapped on. Soon her limbs were encased in slightly pitted metal (for that authentic look) and she moved around to see the different it made. A bit more weight than she was used to, but not so much it would impede movement.

The metal bits WERE very bulky though; a lot more than expected. (“Might be able to reuse those for a Fatehand cosplay,” Tegiri mused. “The size would fit!”)

Next, the pants and the torso wear, and she thought it best to get this done as soon as possible, not just for the obvious reasons of shoes and things, but because she wanted it over with. Tegiri had to help her do it in stages and she winced as he pulled her pants up over her massive legs, the leathers creaking very ominously with the slightest hint of leg twitch. It creaked much worse once it got to her backside, and she winced, waiting for something to burst, but they looped it onto the harness, and she twitched her hips as an experiment. Nothing happened, and she walked around, testing it some more. Again, nothing happened.

The undershirt. It got around her horns by being one of the kinds of shirt that opened on one side to be placed on the shoulder than then closed back up. This went fine enough, but then it wrapped over her rumblespheres, and that WAS a problem; she was too busty for even this shirt, and it was the largest one they had. It hung down, stressed in the middle, securing braces severely strained. Tegiri gave her a speculative look. “You, uh. Have some underboob at present.”

She KNEW she could feel some air there! “Never mind that.”

“But, the look is compromised. We could refit it-”

Polypa’s veins swelled, throbbing and pulsing, as she thought about the logistics of, of refitting her shirt now! Forget covering her doom-globes, if it got anywhere near her belly it would be destroyed! “No, no! We can work with this! Get the vest.”

Tegiri complied, pulling it up, and if anything, this was even trickier by far. The process involved a lot of swiveling around, some acrobatics on Tegiri’s part, Polypa working and flexing her muscles in some very strange ways to maneuver things right, and the real tricky bit came as they tried to force the underside around the base of her stomach; the region where her belly met her torso and rested beneath her doom-globes.

Try as they might, it just would not clip together.

Polypa tried to suck it in, to no avail. In the end, they just clipped it together, tugging it over her belly as much as possible, for something of a crop jacket look. It was, she admitted, strangely in character.

Then came the shoes, the gloves. They fit on properly; they were built for Polypa’s size, and better yet, were designed to work with the specific inserts she was wearing on her limbs for the cosplay.

Last of all, they slid on the coat (a positive relief after the complexities thus far), and tied up her hair into the signature braid of Edowar Elrick. Then, she and Tegiri clipped all the clothes onto the harness, so that it was mainly supported BY the harness and not her body, and thus hopefully protected from the destructive impact she could put out.

Once it was all done, they examined her look. Polypa looked into the mirror, moving left and right, and Tegiri rode on her shoulder, looking anxious on her behalf.

“Hrm,” Polypa said, very dubious and uncertain.

She turned left, moving as far as she could without her magnificent gut being entirely out of view. The coat helped a lot with keeping the looking as iconic as possible; it covered the harness that was keeping all the clothes attached, for example, and it gave her massive body a certain dramatic flair.

Her stomach, the vast and slightly pendous orb it was, provided a sense of reassuring weight. Yes, it really did not fit her cosplay at all, but part of the point of these contests was to push things as far as you possibly could without compromising the look. Perhaps she had done just that… perhaps. She turned some more, her coat flashing dramatically, her metal-covered limbs glinting beneath the coat, and she had to admit something.

She didn’t look entirely in-character, but she still looked damn cool.

Then again, a thought like that WAS in-character for Edowar, famed in-story for his terrible and gaudy taste. She shrugged.

“I still think we might be able to extend the top pieces…” Tegiri began.

But Polypa shook her head. “No. I can work with this.”

“...Really?”

She smiled. “Yeah, really. Come on.” She picked him up and tossed him onto her shoulder. “We’re gonna be late!”

“Oh, yes, right! We must hurry!”

The two of them took off, to the competition, and Polypa felt surprised at her optimism. At least she had tried!

As they left, Tegiri said, “You could have gone as Strong Armsta.” He wrote this down in a little notebook, perhaps noting it for future cosplays. “You have the bulk! The attitude! And his cosplays are not terribly hard, you just need the right build.”

The image brought to mind a boisterous, lovable purpleblood that Polypa could have carried in an instant. She thought about it. “Nah,” she said. “Not now, I mean. I wouldn’t mind it, but that outfit is totally topless and I don’t want to be fandom famous for that. Want to build up my reputation first.”

Tegiri pushed his glasses up. “Point taken.”

#queued #fics #My writing #commissions #twitchy!polypa #twitchy!homestuck #twitchy!hiveswap

[indominusregina]

Fresh Eyes

Warnings: My usual language

Words: 1.6k

Notes: I got listening to Andy Grammer’s new album “The Good Parts” and although “Fresh Eyes” is not a new song to me, I couldn’t get the song out of my head, so this is kinda inspired by that. Finn is inspired by a sweet pupper at my local animal shelter who is up for adoption. Just a fluffly thing while I work on getting better and continuing “The Bet”

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Masterlist

When Steve first met you, it knocked the wind out of him. Literally. He was strolling quietly through Central Park, hood up and hat tugged down to obscure his face. New York City was just starting to get a bit chillier and Steve was grateful for the excuse to use his standard public disguise. He had a small smile on his face as he saw families playing together in the falling leaves, couples strolling together hand in hand, and friends who were clearly enjoying a first visit to the city. He was so wrapped up in his admiration of the scene in front of him that he almost didn’t hear the shout of the woman nearby.

“Finn, no! Heel, Finn. Finnegan!” The voice had gotten steadily more panicked, and he managed to turn towards it just in time for a large brown mass to tackle him. He let out a grunt as his back hit the hard ground and his hat flew off. Mere seconds later, his face was getting the bath of a lifetime as a warm tongue managed to find every nook and cranny of his features. It was only a few moments later that the bath stopped with a quick jerk and whine. “I’m so, so sorry sir. Sit Finnegan! Finn and I are pretty new to each other and I guess I didn’t know how strong he could be and I…you’re laughing.” Steve was chuckling as he wiped his face off with his sleeve.

“It’s no trouble. Although I can’t say I expected to be knocked over by a dog today.” Steve reached around behind him to grab his hat and tug it back on before eyeing the sable pitbull and its owner.

“Well, even I underestimated Finn’s strength.” He locked eyes with you, and his breath was stolen again by your y/e/c eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You’d asked, concern showing plainly in those magnificent orbs, and he stood slowly, a smile forming on his face as he nodded, unsure of whether or not his words would fail him. “You’re not just lying to prevent a poor girl from freaking out on you?” He laughed again, and finally found his voice.

“Not lying, ma’am.” He said with a slight nod of his head, and he watched as red rose into your cheeks.

“Oh, wow. Ma’am. I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am before. It sounds so posh. Or maybe that’s madam….” You rambled in front of him and Steve’s grin grew. Finn chose that moment to let out a booming bark, and seemingly without thought, you turned and shouted “WHAT” in the same tone. It was that moment that Steve would swear was the moment he knew he wanted to be a part of your life. Finn barked again, and you’d responded with an energetic “you’re right!” again matching tone.

“How would you like to get a hot drink? It’s the least Finn and I can do for knocking you over.” You asked, beating Steve to the question.  He assented and revelled in the grin he got in response.

“But I have one condition.” He watched as your grin fell slightly and he felt a little guilty for leading with that. “You have to tell me your name.” You laughed, face flushing in what was clearly embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand to shake his and he clasped it firmly, a soft smile on his face.

“And I’m -”

“Captain Steve Rogers.” You interrupted him, a sheepish grin on your face. Your voice lowered to a whisper and you leaned in to say the next part. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but you’re kind of a big deal around these parts.” He let out a laugh at that, and Finn jumped up, clearly ready to move along. You walked together to the nearest stand and purchased some hot cider before continuing along the path, Finn in the lead. As you strolled along, conversation flowed easily, and before he’d realized, an hour had passed.

“Shit, we gotta get going. It’s been wonderful talking to you, Captain.” You smiled, and he had to fight his frown as you’d yet to exchange any contact information.

“You too. Will I see you around the park again?” He tried his best not to sound too hopeful, but he was sure he messed up.

“I don’t think I’m quite ready to handle Finn in the park yet. Don’t want any more poor guys getting knocked over.” You shrugged, and his words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“What if I walked with you?” Your stunned expression prompted him to elaborate. “I just mean that he seemed to be a bit calmer with the both of us here, and if he gets out of hand, I could probably help you handle him.”

“I…You really want to do that?” The look of confusion in your eyes was almost too much for him.

“Of course. How about tomorrow?” He asked, and you smiled with a twinkle in those eyes that was sure to kill him.

“A little eager, aren’t you?” You let out a short laugh before nodding. “Tomorrow works. See you at 9 at the hot cider place?” He almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Count on it.” He grinned, watching as you turned and ran off with Finn bounding happily along at your side. He waited until he could no longer see you before turning back towards the tower. He was late for training, but it didn’t matter. He’d just secured himself a second date, he hoped.

—-

After months of comfortable dates in secret, Steve had decided it was time for you to meet his friends. “Wait, what? Steve, honey, are you sure? I don’t really think I’m Avenger-friend material.” You’d responded in a panic, which had caused Finn to press into your side as your stress bubbled to the surface.

“You’re Avenger-girlfriend material.” Steve had responded, and he’d watched as you’d struggled to come up with a response.

“Fine.” You’d finally responded, and he gave you a kiss on the nose as you sulked. “But I’m arriving to this stupid thing on my own so that if I look like a total idiot, you can pretend you don’t know me.” Steve had rolled his eyes at that, but conceded.

By the time the actual night of Tony’s New Year’s Eve party rolled around, Steve was pretty sure you’d described, in painful detail, every single thing that could possibly go wrong, which he hoped meant you were prepared for every possible scenario.

Your nerves must have transferred to him, he thought as he sat anxiously at the bar flanked by Natasha and Sam. His hand caged his phone beneath it, and he almost prayed it would buzz to alert him of your arrival.

“Geez, Cap, loosen up. The year from hell is practically over.” Natasha drawled, leaning back against the bar, eyes scanning the crowd. Sam leaned back on the other side, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Nah, Steve’s just worried that we’re going to find out that his imaginary girlfriend is just that, imaginary.”  

“She’s not imaginary.” Steve mumbled as he drained the rest of his drink. He’d agreed on letting you arrive fashionably late, a fact he now regretted.

“Sure, and I’m Iron Man.” Steve rolled his eyes as he gestured for another drink. Curse the super-soldier metabolism that made it impossible for the alcohol to take the edge off. Just as another drink was set in front of him, Sam straightened beside him and let out a low whistle. “God damn. Tony sure knows how to pick ‘em.” Steve turned slowly and the sight that greeted him made the rest of the room disappear. Knocked breathless again, he watched as you handed over your coat to the coat check, eyes sweeping your form.

“Oh damn.” He muttered under his breath as he rose, striding across the room so quickly he didn’t hear Natasha’s chirp of ‘language!’ When you spotted him, a large grin spread across your face and he could swear that his heart stopped.

“Hi, Steve! Sorry I’m later than I wanted to be, Finn wouldn’t settle until he’d had a nice long walk and I spent a little more time in front of the mirror than usual because let’s face it, I was coming to a Tony Stark Party and I’m just kind of hoping that I’m dressed acceptably and you’re staring.” Your rambling turned to a hard statement and he realised he’d had yet to say anything.

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve shook his head and leaned in to give you a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, he left his forehead resting against yours, a large grin spreading across his face as you spoke dazedly.

“That’s one helluva hello, Rogers.” You looked up into his eyes and his filter disappeared again.

“I love you.” He watched as you processed his words, eyes lighting up before your grin grew to match his own.

“I love you too, Stevie.” You leaned up to give him a quick peck before laughing. “You know, for all the scenarios I worried about, I don’t think this was one of them.” Steve laughed with you, wrapping an arm around you before leading you back to the bar where Sam and Natasha looked about ready to pounce.

“You ready for this?” He asked, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You looked up at him, and his heart swelled at your answer.

“With you, I’m ready for anything.”

Tags: @childoftimeandmagic

#steve rogers x reader #fluff #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #reader insert #steve x reader

[regina-del-cielo]

Hi! The biggest of your personal headcanons about each Gold Saint, Specter and Sea General, please!

OMG ANON YOU BEAUTIFUL PERSON GET A GRIP ‘CAUSE YOU’RE IN FOR A LONG RIDE!

I don’t know how to define ‘biggest headcanon’, tho, so I just… went with the feel? Hope you don’t mind!

Another thing: I put Kanon under the Marinas just for the sake of… giving him more space? Don’t know, just felt right this way!

Answer under the cut! Enjoy and thanks for asking! :D

Gold Saints

Aries Mu: he has the sickest sense of humour EVER. He could burn you with words with a straight face, looking perfectly innocent, and it’d take you five solid minutes to notice he just insulted you. Probably a meme master before it was cool.

Taurus Aldebaran: our sweet giant is the king of perfect gifts.He always knows what you need, even if you didn’t yourself. Gifts given by him are greatly cherished.

Gemini Saga: he’s got a thing for order – slightly bordering on obsession. His desk is always perfectly neat, pens ordered by colour or degree of ink consumed, this kind of thing. Nothing’s out of place after his passage.

Cancer Death Mask: he sings. A LOT. From opera’s arias to popular Italian songs. Especially if he’s dusting the faces hanging on his House – he keeps himself company with his own voice. It’s amazing and also bloody scary that he’s actually really pleasant to listen to.

Leo Aiolia: he’s the laziest cat that ever lived. Unless he’s on service, trying to get him out of bed is basically a herculean feat. No way he’s leaving his mattress without a very good reason to do so, no sir – ‘good reason’ being something along the lines of ‘Athena was kidnapped’ or ‘the world is exploding’.

Virgo Shaka: he could probably blackmail every single member of the Sanctuary with some ridiculous thing they did five years before on a random day. He’s got a damn fine memory and has no qualms in using it.

Libra Dohko: he’s a romantic dork and has no shame in admitting it. Literally waiting for Shunrei and Shiryu to marry and have ninety children to play grandpa with.

Scorpio Milo: he’s a literal magnet for animals – the grumpiest cat or the most antisocial dog turn into adorable cuddly balls of fluff when he approaches them.

Sagittarius Aiolos: the purest cinnamon roll on the planet but if you hurt one of his loved ones you better run, or else you’d find yourself pinned to a wall by his arrows. Takes him a lot to get angry, but when he does, it’s bad.

Capricorn Shura: give him some tequila and he’ll become the sexiest dancer on the stage – nobody can resist his tango moves, trust me.

Aquarius Camus: he wants to act like he doesn’t care but give him a sad movie or an emotional book and he’ll become a hapless ball of tears. It’s even worse with music.

Pisces Aphrodite: has the biggest sweet tooth in the bloody Sanctuary. He’d eat sugar directly from the spoon if on abstinence. Do not – repeat – do not take his sweets away. Death Mask and Shura got scars over this.

Bonus! Pope Shion: Dohko and him played chess through telepathy for centuries – Shion says it’s because he wanted to help his friend keep his mind awake while sitting on those rocks for weeks on end, Dohko says it’s because ‘he’s a competitive bitch that never wanted to lose’.

Sea Generals

Sea Dragon Kanon: he’s left-handed. One of the many reasons he was considered ‘the bad one’ – left-handed people were considered ‘demonic’ and‘deviant’ until the seventies or something.

Siren Sorrento: he’s an albino – and spent most of his childhood safely kept inside his house, looking at the world outside only through a curtained window.

Scylla Io: he’s got a Maori-styled tattoo on his back representing the six animals that make up his powers – thought it was a good way to bond with the South Pacific he’s supposed to protect.

Lymnades Caça: his monstrous appearance is completely made up –he used his shape-shifting abilities to conjure up the scariest face he could to look menacing to his opponents.

Chrysaor Krishna: he’s the healer of the group – his Cosmos can re-align chakras on other people to bring back equilibrium in their bodies, accelerating the healing process.

Sea Horse Baian: he fell in love with the sea by watching killer whales swimming in the bay of Vancouver Island, where he lived as a child.

Kraken Isaak: his ‘fanboying’ over the Kraken wasn’t casual –he’d always been supposed to be a Marina General, an equal in rank to his master (assuming that Sea Generals and Gold Saints have the same role in different armies) – no wonder Camus thought he was stronger than Hyoga.

Bonus! Mermaid Thetis: being a Nereid – a nymph of the seas, the incarnation of Achilles’ mother, sister to Amphitrite - she’s the keeper of the memories of Atlantis, the only one apart from Poseidon himself to remember its greatness and beauty in mythical times.

Specters (only the ones I actually have hcs about, obvs, they’d be too many otherwise)

Wyvern Rhadamanthys: he won’t admit it even under torture, but he’s kind of a mama dragon. His God, his lieutenants, his brothers– he’s going to chew up anyone who dares hurting them.

Griffon Minos: he sews, mends and weaves like a pro. Got a hole in your socks? He’ll make them as good as new – if you actually have the guts to ask him, that’s to say.

Garuda Aiacos: Biggest Bollywood fan EVER. He sings the songs from their movies non-stop, and even dances their choreographies half-naked in his house in Antenora.

Balrog Lune: he goes in full-raging paranoia when somebody gets inside his archives without his supervision – ‘it took me decades to bring order to it, don’t you dare touch my books!’

Necromancer Byaku: chilliest Specter in the whole Underworld –never loses his cool and is the only one who can calm down Lune when he becomes a bunch of frail nerves.

Harpy Valentine: BIGGEST DRAMA QUEEN with a ‘mother hen’ tendency – always checking if everybody’s alright, if they need something, etc. Obviously this intensifies to epic proportions when Rhadamanthys is involved.

Alraune Queen: the human definition of ‘smol and angry’: he always quarrels with Fyodor for “who’s the real mandrake in here”, and Valentine, Sylphid and Gordon must drag him away every time.

Basilisk Sylphid: being Belgian, he’s the greatest beer expert inthe Underworld. Better not argue with him about that beverage!

Minotauros Gordon: Just wants to do his job and not be bothered by anything else – although he has to stop Queen from charging head on and chew people’s faces out for the silliest things.

Papillon Myu: his metabolism is extremely fast – too fast for a human body, to the point that he has sudden droppings of energy. He stays in his ‘blob’ form to avoid wasting strength when it’s not necessary.

Behemoth Violate: in a ‘no Cosmo, no Surplices’ brawl, she’s strong enough to actually bring Aiacos down – or at least get a par out of the fight. You don’t mess with Violate.

Sphinx Pharaoh: he’s got a thing for snakes and helped Pandora deal with her ability of conjuring them – they get along pretty well thanks to this.

Acheron Charon: he gives great emphasis to his talking by throwing Italian and Neapolitan words in it, and doesn’t give a shit if they don’t understand him – after some time, his colleagues have somehow learned to get the gist of what he means.

Bonus! Pandora: She seems all prim and proper, but actually knows lots of swear words. And being them in German, they sound very, very menacing coming from her mouth.

#I NEEDED TO CREATE A WORD FILE FOR THIS I'M NOT KIDDING #anonymous #asks and answers #saint seiya #my headcanons #aries mu #taurus aldebaran #gemini saga #cancer deathmask #leo aiolia #virgo shaka #libra dohko #scorpio milo #sagittarius aiolos #capricorn shura #aquarius camus #pisces aphrodite #aries shion #sea dragon kanon #mermaid thetis #siren sorrento #lymnades caça #chrysaor krishna #sea horse baian #scylla io #kraken isaak #pandora heinstein #wyvern rhadamanthys #griffon minos #garuda aiacos

[gethealthy18-blog]

61 Best Valentine’s Day Jokes

New Post has been published on https://healingawerness.com/getting-healthy/getting-healthy-women/61-best-valentines-day-jokes/

61 Best Valentine’s Day Jokes

61 Best Valentine’s Day Jokes Harini Natarajan Hyderabd040-395603080 January 14, 2020

Valentine’s Day is all about spreading love. Whether you have a partner or not, you can celebrate this romantic day having fun. One of the best ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day is by sharing jokes that will make everyone’s stomach hurt with laughter. Host a Valentine’s Day-themed party, arrange some exciting games, and share these uproarious one-liners and hilarious jokes with everyone.

To jazz up your party night, we have gathered some funny jokes for kids, some witty jokes for couples, and some super sarcastic jokes for all the single people in the house. Check them out!

21 Valentine’s Day Jokes For Kids

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1. This Little Pun

Q: What do you call a very small Valentine? A: A Valen-tiny.

2. This Truthful Pun

I gave blood today. It may not be the best Valentine’s Day present, but at least it came from the heart.

3. And This Thoughtful Pun

Q: What did the paper clip say to the magnet? A: I find you very attractive

4. You Want To Keep Laughing At This…

Q: How did the phone propose? A: He gave her a ring.

5. A Killer One

Q: What kind of Valentine’s Day candy is never on time? A: Choco-late.

6. Animal Love

Q: What do owls say to declare their love? A: Owl be yours!

7. This Ultimate Truth

Q: What’s the best part about Valentine’s Day? A: The day after, when all the candy is on sale.

8. This “Berry” Funny Joke

Q: What did one berry say to the other berry on Valentine’s Day? A: I love you “berry” much

9. This One About Bunny Love

Q: What did the rabbit say to his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day? A: Somebunny loves you!

10. A Precious Knock-Knock One

Knock, knock. Who’s there? Emma. Emma who? “Emma” hoping I get lots of cards on Valentine’s Day!

11. And Here’s Some More

Knock, knock Who’s there? Luke Luke who? “Luke” who got a Valentine!

12. This Ghostly Proposal

Q: What do ghosts say to one another to show that they care? A: “I love BOO!”

13. And This Gem

Q: Did Adam and Eve ever have a date? A: No, they had an apple!

14. We Can’t “Espresso” How Funny This Is

Q: What’s the perfect thing to say to a coffee-lover on Valentine’s Day? A: “Words cannot espresso what you mean to me.”

15. This Cute One

Q: Why did the boy put candy under his pillow? A: Because he wanted to have sweet dreams.

16. This Bee Love

Q: What did the girl bee say to the boy bee on Valentine’s Day? A: I love bee-ing with you, honey!

17. This Masterpiece

Q: What did the boy octopus say to the girl octopus? A: I wanna hold your hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand…

18. Heres’s A Classic One

Q: What did the boy bear say to the girl bear on Valentine’s Day? A: I love you bear-y much!

19. This egg-cited egg

Knock, knock. Who’s there? Egg! Egg who? Egg-cited to be your Valentine!

20. This Epic One

Q: How can you tell the calendar is popular? A: It has lots of “dates.”

21. This Criminal Offence

Q: Why did the man have his girlfriend put in jail? A: Because she stole his heart.

20 Valentine’s Day Jokes for Adults

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1. This Husband Who’s In Trouble

If there’s one thing I hate about Valentine’s Day…it’s my wife.

2. This Classic One

Q: What did the light bulb say to the switch? A: You turn me on.

3. You’ll Keep Laughing

Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love, and got married. Their wedding ceremony wasn’t fancy. The reception, however, was excellent.

4. Poor Man

Boyfriend: “Honey, on this Valentine’s Day, I want to tell you something… I’m not rich like Jack, I don’t have a mansion like Russell or a Porsche like Martin. But, I do love you and want to marry you.” Girlfriend: “Oh, dear… I love you too… But, what was that you said about Martin?”

5. This Funny Excuse

If I could, I would wrap up all my love for you and put it in a gift box. But, they don’t make boxes large enough!

6. This Romantic Pun

To my beloved husband. You are the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow. And you don’t disappear when I get close to you!

7. This Rhyming Warning

Roses are red, The grass is green, Take me to Valentine’s dinner, Or I’ll make a scene!

8. This Hilarious Exhibition Of Love

You are my sweet Valentine. I like you like a fat kid likes cake.

9. And Another One

Love is like peeing your pants – everyone can see it but only you can feel it. Thanks for being the pee in my pants

10. This Sweet Caution

You plan more for Valentine’s Day than Russia prepared for the Olympics.

11. This Poor Man

If my girlfriend doesn’t behave nicely to me this Valentine’s Day, I’m totally going to show my rage and be in this shitty relationship for 2 more years.

12. This Romantic Proposal

Boyfriend: What did one flame say to the other on Valentine’s Day? Girlfriend: Tell me. Boyfriend: “We’re a perfect match.”

13. These Expectations

I just got a text from my girlfriend that said, “I bought you an awesome Valentine’s Day gift! xox” I really hope she spelled ‘Xbox’ wrong.

14. This Daring Man

My wife rang me at work on Valentine’s Day. She said, “Three of the girls in the office have just received bunches of flowers. They’re absolutely gorgeous.” I said, “That’s probably why they’ve been sent flowers then.”

15. Whenever You Realize…

Last Valentine’s Day, my fiancée of four years bought me a lottery ticket and I won $5 million. I wonder what she’s doing nowadays…

16. Men Will Be Men

I’ve just booked a table for my girlfriend and me on Valentine’s Day. I hope she knows how to play snooker.

17. This Ignorant Being

For the last twenty years, I’ve received a Valentine’s Day card from the same secret admirer. So, I was upset when I didn’t get one this year. First my granny dies, now this?

18. This Confusion

My girlfriend told me she hoped I had something special planned for Valentine’s Day. I said, “I’m working on it.” She smiled. Which was weird because I thought she’d be upset that I have go to work on Valentine’s Day.

19. This Sassy One

This year, I’ve gotten my wife a Valentine’s Day present that will really take her breath away. A treadmill.

20. This Remarkable Pun

I think Cupid must need glasses. The last time I dated a girl, he missed my heart but hit my wallet.

20 Valentine’s Day Jokes For Singles

1. This Sad Truth

Q: What is the difference between a calendar and you? A: A calendar has a date on Valentine’s Day.

2. This Person Who Embraced Self-Love On Valentine’s Day

I can’t wait for Valentine’s Day because I get to make cupcakes for a special someone. That special someone is me.

3. This Is A Killer

If you’re sad about being alone on Valentine’s Day, just remember… Nobody loves you on any other day either.

4. And Another One…

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Don’t worry if you’re single. You’re going to die alone anyway!

5. When You Learn Things

On your first date with a guy, don’t give him a list of mistakes made by your previous boyfriends to take home and study.

6. This Ultimate Truth

That tingly feeling you get when you meet someone you’re really attracted to? That’s common sense leaving your body.

7. This Will Keep You Laughing

What I say out loud: I don’t need any man in my life this Valentine’s Day. Men ain’t shit! What I say on the inside: What demons do I need to summon to get a guy talk to me?

8. This Unique Perspective

Q: What do single people call Valentine’s Day? A: Happy Independence Day!

9. This Realization

8 planets, 204 countries, 809 islands, 7 seas, 6,000,000,000+ people… AND I AM STILL SINGLE.

10. This Declaration

I am not scared of getting dumped on Valentine’s Day…because I don’t have a girlfriend.

11. The Perfect Valentine’s Day Celebration

I am going to spend my Valentine’s Day with my ex…box 360.

12. This Truly Helps

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Vodka costs less, Than a dinner for two.

13. This Heart-Breaking Pun

Can’t wait to receive nothing on Valentine’s Day!

14. When You Are Strictly Not In Love

Couples on Valentine’s Day: “Love is in the air.” Me: “No. Oxygen, carbon dioxide, and nitrogen are in the air.”

15. When You Hate Valentine’s Day

Keep calm and SCREW Valentine’s Day…because I’m single

16. And When You Hate It Even More…

Can we rename Valentine’s Day as Singles Awareness Day? Because you’re never more aware of the fact that you are single than this time of the year!

17. When You’re Really Not Into Valentine’s Day

I don’t need a Valentine. I need a billion dollars and fast metabolism.

18. This Single Birdie Pun

All the single birds flew away… Because they think that on Valentine’s Day, love is in the air!

19. This Smart Insult

You: “Siri, why am I single?” Siri: *activates front camera*

20. Every Single’s Favorite

Do I have a date for Valentine ’s Day? Yes, February 14th.

Laugh your heart out with these hilarious Valentine’s Day jokes. Send them to your loved ones and make this Valentine’s Day amusing for everyone! Leave your personal favorite Valentine’s Day jokes in the comments section below.

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Harini Natarajan

Harini has over 12 years of experience in content writing and editing for online media. She specializes in the areas of business, health and wellness, and lifestyle and is proficient in Medical Sciences (Biology, Human Anatomy and Physiology, and Biochemistry). As the Chief Editor, Harini ensures that her team delivers interesting, engaging, and authentic content. Her background in Biomedical Engineering helps her decode and interpret the finer nuances of scientific research for her team. Harini is a certified bibliophile and a closet poet. She also loves dancing and traveling to offbeat destinations.

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