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its-monster-mash · 1 year

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Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You not to Talk to Strangers

Bo Sinclair X Reader - Part Three

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Rough Sex(Consensual), Allusion to past non-con(not with Reader)

Part One Part Two

You stir awake, confused with your body aching, in an unfamiliar bed. The last night’s events come back to you when your eyes settle on the man sprawled out on the bed next to you.

Bo.

He looks so peaceful, almost angelic where the light peeks through the heavy curtains and illuminates him. You can’t help but to lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sharp inhale, and a soft sigh, and he’s settled deeper into sleep’s embrace. For a moment, you think about settling back into the blankets yourself—it would be so easy to settle into the crook of Bo’s arm—but you’d skipped lunch yesterday, and then missed dinner in favor of satisfying more urgent hungers, so the treacherous bastard that is your stomach forces you to stay awake.

Still though, it’s hard to tear your eyes away from him, now that you have a moment to take in his form in relative stillness.

You know it’s rude to stare, but there’s no one awake to catch you now, so you let your eyes wander over him unreserved—more studying him than anything. Your breath catches in your lungs when you get a good look at his wrists—you’d thought you’d seen scars, but you’d been so preoccupied with the rest of him last night that you didn’t really let it sink in.

You can tell by the thickness and coloration that these are old scars, and you shudder to think of what exactly could have done that to him.

He lets out a small whimper in his sleep, and that reminds you that your little habit is still fucking creepy when the subject of your fascination is asleep—perhaps moreso.

He makes more small sounds of distress, and you wonder if maybe you should wake him—would that be more kind than letting him sleep?

Probably not—he exerted himself quite a bit last night, taking you through round after round of sticky, sweaty, bloody sex—honestly you’re surprised the two of you aren’t sticking to the sheets right now. Smoothing the mess of his hair out of his forehead, you lean in to press another soft kiss to the clammy skin there, and you’re relieved to see him calm, relaxing back into a deep sleep.

Food.

The cavity inside of you aches from the emptiness, and it’s loud and insistent enough to take precedence over the ache of your muscles, and the bruises he’s left all over your body like a lover’s lipstick.

There’s an old Korn shirt folded up beside your pillow that most definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep—you figure Bo must have left it there for you. You don’t bother to go and find your bra, pulling the soft-worn shirt over your head like a trophy.

Damn.

It’s been a long time since you’ve worn someone else’s clothes, and you relish the way it feels against your skin.

No sense in bothering with bottoms—the shirt is long enough that you’ve worn dresses shorter than it—and you doubt Bo will complain if he’s got easy access when he does wake up.

Especially if he comes downstairs to find you fixing the two of you some breakfast.

He laid down a few ground rules before you fell asleep in his arms last night—you could help yourself to anything in the kitchen as long as you made enough to share, but under no circumstances were you to go in the basement or to go outside without him.

You’d made fun of him about his Mysterious Basement, and something strange flashed across his eyes before he explained that there was a lot of dangerous old equipment down there that he didn’t want messed with—and that the locals are not the friendliest with outsiders, so it’s just best that you don’t go tryin’ to explore the town without him.

He didn’t need to explain himself to you, though—you’re plenty happy to follow his rules since he’s kind enough to let you stay with him after shit hit a boiling point with Tasha and her annoying little boytoy.

It was her that wanted him to come along after all—but all he’d done was bother you.

She had the fucking nerve to be mad at you for it.

You look forward to stopping in to see Bo every time you make your bi-monthly road trip, but yesterday you’d hoped that reminding Tasha, and Corey, of your crush on Bo would get them both to lay off—but Corey pushed you over the edge.

Maybe Tasha was right—maybe you are putting yourself in unnecessary danger; Bo is still technically a stranger to you, after all—you don’t even know his last name.

But if you’d stayed, you couldn’t guarantee that you’d behave—at least this way you could stay in a house with someone you want to trust—rather than getting kicked out on the side of the road after you inevitably wiped that smirk off of Corey’s face.

You don’t think of yourself as particularly violent—but there’s only so far you can be pushed before something snaps in you, and you know it—it’s just safer for everyone if you stay here with Bo until Tasha can come back without him.

But none of that’s important right now.

Now the pressing issue is getting yourself acquainted with his kitchen—first thing’s first—you’d better get it cleaned up before you start digging around for ingredients. It feels a little tacky to get cooking and then only wash what you used when he’s got so much lying around.

Ooh, better start coffee too, you might need it by the time you’re done cleaning up.

It’s not that you’re judging—you’ve seen worse messes in the college dorms, to be honest—but he never did discuss any kind of rent for your stay, so the least you can do is take care of this much.

You’re washing up the last of the mugs when the sound of the kitchen door startles you, and an equally taken aback man stands in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes that you’re sure match your own.

Bo didn’t tell you anyone else was supposed to show up, but the sheer confusion on the man’s face at the sight of you suggests he’s actually supposed to be here.

“Hey,” you force yourself to start talking, very much wishing you had bothered to find your shorts. “Uh…I’m a—guest—of Bo’s.” You’re suddenly very aware of all the bruises on your body, and you hope to god the man has the decency not to mention them.

You hold your still-soapy hand out for him to shake, and he accepts it a bit awkwardly.

“Blink twice if you’re here against your will.”

For a moment he looks serious, but at the look of utter confusion on your face, he breaks into a wide grin and an easy laugh that makes you feel a whole lot better.

“I’m just foolin’ wit’cha.” He drops his duffel bag to the ground, taking a seat at the table as he studies you. “So you’re Bo’s mysterious girlfriend—heard a lot about you—wasn’t sure you actually existed.”

“Not sure I’d use that word quite yet.” You offer an awkward laugh, turning back to the sink to hopefully hide the way the thought of being something more than just a convenient Fuck Buddy to Bo makes you blush.

“Bo would.” He grins, seeming to relish your discomfort. “Name’s Lester—I’m the baby brother.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smile at him, tugging the hem of your borrowed shirt. “I didn’t know Bo had brothers.” Of course, you don’t actually know very much about Bo to begin with.

“Yeah, there’s two of us—Vincent is Bo’s twin, but uh—I don’t know if you’ll see him any time soon.” Lester squints, squeezing his lips together like he’s suddenly not sure exactly how much he’s supposed to tell you—given Bo apparently hasn’t bothered to fill you in on much of anything.

“Why not? Is he away?” Your brow furrows; it’s really none of your business—but he seemed to offer the information readily enough.

“Vin’s shy—he’s one a’ them reclusive artist types.” He drums his fingers on the table. “He’s real talented though; got a lot a’ work down in our Momma’s ol’ Wax Museum.”

Your eyes light up, and suddenly you find yourself forgetting to be self-conscious. “No kidding; I saw the outside of the Museum when Bo drove me up here, but I haven’t been in.”

His eyes narrow on you, his expression becoming ever-so-slightly hesitant—you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t spent so much time studying body language over the years. “Just how much of the town have you seen?”

“Not a thing,” you admit. “I’ve only ever stopped by to see Bo—and last night he said he doesn’t want me going down into town without him.”

“Oh.” Lester nods slowly, like things are falling into place for him. “Okay, that makes sense.”

You’re about to open your mouth to ask more questions, when Lester perks up. “Hey, you’re the one always bringin’ Bo snacks and stuff—did I interrupt you gettin’ ready to cook breakfast?”

There it is.

“I was just getting the dishes out of the way before I start looking at ingredients.” You dry your hands off on your shirt. “Bo said I could help myself to the kitchen as long as I made enough to share.”

“Oh, so now he’s all about sharing,” Lester huffs, and you can’t help grinning at the way his arms cross like a petulant child. “Greedy bastard won’t let anyone else try the goodies you bring him.” He does his best to look all big and mean and grumpy, and you snort when you realize he’s doing an impression of Bo. “She made it for me—get your own girl.”

“Oh he didn’t,” you laugh. “That’s so rude.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” He throws his hands up into the air. “So—you want me to help you find anything? That oughta earn me a seat at the table, right?”

“Sure, Lester.” You smile at him, crossing your arms playfully as you picture Bo hoarding your gifts and calling you his girl. “I’ll bake some muffins if we’ve got the stuff for them—that’s a sharing food.”

“Wow, you are sweet.” He pulls over a chair to climb on, getting a better vantage point to peruse the cabinets. “The hell are you doin’ wit’ Bo?”

“Well, he’s been sweet to me.”

“Sure as hell have,” Bo grumbles, wandering into the kitchen in nothing but boxers and socks.

Your chest tightens at the sight of him, thinking about what Lester had said. “I made coffee—Lester was just helping me find the ingredients I need to make a batch of muffins.”

His expression softens, and he sidles up real close to you, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Coffee, fresh baked muffins, and a pretty girl gettin’ it for me—man could get used to that.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. “There’s a can ‘a pumpkin in the third cabinet over.”

That’ll occupy Lester for a second; long enough for Bo to lift your shirt up for a quick peek—relishing the marks he’d left on your body—evidence that may as well spell out ‘Bo Sinclair Was Here’. He chuckles when you cover yourself back up at breakneck speed—pleased that he’s the only one you’re eager to go showin’ off for.

He takes a step closer, pinning you between the kitchen counter and his large frame—he relishes the way your hands splay across his chest when he presses a less than innocent kiss under your ear. “Sorry I forgot to tell you we ain’t alone on Laundry Day,” he whispers, his hot breath washing over your ear before he teases you terribly with a lascivious nip. “Otherwise I’d take you right fuckin’ now.”

“Still in the room,” Lester groans in mock irritation, tossing the can of pumpkin at Bo.

He’s fast as lightning when he turns to catch it, and annoyance flashes across his face. “Hey dumbass, you could’a hit her.”

“Oh no way,” Lester laughs. “You wouldn’ta let your girlfriend get hit.” He mocks Bo with an exaggerated show of over the top kissy noises, and Bo whips the can back at him.

“I’m gonna hit you if you keep runnin’ yer damn mouth!” Bo makes the sourest damn expression you’ve ever seen—not unlike a kid in full-tantrum mode—before he picks up Lester’s duffel bag and tosses it to him—a little more gently. “Go do your fuckin’ laundry—shit’s stinkin’ up the place.”

“Oh because roadkill is so much worse than motor oil.” Lester rolls his eyes, but ducks when Bo grabs a mug out of the dish strainer. “It was nice to meet you!” He shoots you one last smile before running off into some other part of the house.

“You guys are such brothers—”

You’re cut off by Bo’s lips on yours, and you gasp when he picks you up and sets your ass down right on the kitchen counter. “Sorry,” he grunts, not sounding remotely sorry. “Couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Bo!” You shriek, weaving your fingers into his hair when he pushes his way between your thighs, his hot tongue dragging through your folds and across your clit.

Your pussy is still sore and swollen from the absolute punishment it took from him last night, so you’re already overstimulated when he slips a finger inside, growling like an animal as he sucks on your clit.

You can’t help squeezing your thighs together around his head, and apparently that was the wrong move, because his mouth leaves your clit in order to bite down hard on the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

He grins when he hears you yelp.

He leans back, taking a good eyeful of you sat up on the counter, your face flushed with need—for him—with only one of his old shirts for modesty. He sees something in your eyes that he’s never been able to simply take from the victims he’s had before.

You want him, and there ain’t a lick of shame in your eyes about it.

He rubs the already bruising spot where he’d bitten you with a careful tenderness, and you hum. “God, you’re just so damn good for me.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You’ve spent exactly one night here—he knows it’s not the time to be laying it on so thick. You ain’t like the other girls—you still like him by choice—he doesn’t want to fuck that up by letting you know just how much of an effect you have on him. How much he’s fixated on you from the very beginning.

He doesn’t want to give you that kind of power over him—he can’t afford to give you a knife to twist.

But God help him, there you go twisting it anyway.

He’d been so caught up in his own head that he hadn’t noticed your soft hands creeping up to cup his cheeks—fuck—you always look so fuckin’ sweet when you hold him tender and look into his eyes.

He’s terrified you’re gonna look right into his soul, and that you won’t like what you see.

“Wanna be your good girl,” you whisper, your lips ghosting his before you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Oh Sugar,” he groans, moving his hand between you to rub your clit—taking back at least a little control. “You got no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

You whimper so sweet against his lips, and he drinks it all in. He kisses the corner of your mouth, the curve of your jaw, your throat—lower and lower until he’s once again settled between your legs.

You deserve this. So good for him. The longer he can keep you dumb for his touch the longer he can keep you here and drag out the illusion that he’s the man you want, the man who makes your heart flutter with something other than fear.

Two fingers—you’re already wet enough that he ain’t bothering with just one—curl against the sweet spot inside of you, and your hands are back in his hair as you squirm in his grasp.

“Want you to look at me,” he growls against your clit, before his tongue darts back out to trace his full name.

God.

There’s a desperate hunger in your eyes when they meet his, and he knows that the tears of pleasure pricking at your lashes are all for him.

“Fuck, Bo,” you whine, wriggling your hips against his face. “Gonna cum.”

“Come on, Baby,” he grunts. “Le’me have it.”

He’s utterly transfixed by the way you try to keep your eyes open when you lose control of your body—like you want to see the man between your legs as he laps up your sweet juices.

It’s a big fuckin’ ego boost, and it goes straight to his head.

Suddenly, he’s standing, looming over you and wrapping a hand around your throat while the other keeps on pettin’ your sweet pussy.

“Bo, please,” you whine, your thighs trembling from the overstimulation. “It’s too much.”

“Bo, please,” he teases you, though he gives you a break long enough to pull his cock free from his boxers, sliding it through your slick before smacking you a couple good times against the clit. “You want this cock, honey?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while your eyes fixate on where the head of his cock just barely dips into you.

“Words, Sugar,” he insists, the hand on your throat moving to cup your jaw to force you to look him in the eyes. Mistake. His heart flutters at the look of utter need you give him. “You want more than just the tip, you're gonna have to remember your manners.”

“Please, Bo,” you beg, your lip quivering pathetically as you try to will your pretty little head to form thoughts. “Need to feel you inside me.”

Need.

He can’t help himself from sinking into you—‘Need’ feels like a good word when he’s buried deep in the warmth of your sex. He kisses you hard, and he knows damn well his grip on your jaw is gonna bruise—but as long as you keep clinging to him for dear life and moaning so pretty in his mouth he can’t be bothered to care. His tongue traces the curve of your lips, before plunging past your teeth to dance against your own.

“You like tastin�� yourself on me, Sweetheart?”

You nod, stealing another kiss like you can’t help yourself before deigning to speak. “Fuck, Bo, yes.”

One of your hands snakes around to squeeze his throat, and the growl that escapes him is nothing short of feral.

For a split second, he’s enraged that you’d fuckin’ dare, but the manic lust on your face as you choke him is so damn hot he nearly busts right there.

Instead, he pulls out of you, ripping himself from your grasp. You let out a ragged moan from the loss of contact, but he doesn’t give you enough time to be disappointed before grabbing you by the back of the neck and slamming you face down against the table, giving your ass a good hard smack with his free hand.

God damn you’re a filthy slut—wriggling your ass back against him like you’re desperate for it.

Lucky for you, you’re not the only one who’s nasty.

He rams his cock back into your heat, his grip on your neck still forcing your face down into the table as he chases his release like a beast in rut.

He growls in your ear, more animal than man, before taking the lobe between his teeth. “You’re mine, you fuckin’ hear me?”

“Bo!” You shriek, the coil at the core of your pleasure threatening to snap.

“Say you know you’re fuckin’ mine,” he growls. “‘I’m yours, Bo.’” His other hand slips around you to palm your clit roughly, too roughly. “Say. It.”

“I’m YOURS,” you all but sob as you come undone around his cock, body all alight from the too-intense pleasure.

He’s not far behind—his thrusts become erratic, and he doesn’t even care about dragging it out any longer as he explodes inside of you, panting like a dog against your shoulder as your bodies melt into shuddering spasms.

“Damn fuckin’ right.”

He allows himself to slump back into one of the kitchen chairs, dragging you with him with his cock still inside you.

You take his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles. His heart lurches in his chest.

“Fuck, Bo.” You lean your head back against his shoulder, smiling at him with that blissed out and dumb look on your face. “That’s one way to work up an appetite.”

His hand snakes up to squeeze your titty through his old shirt as he laughs, burying his face in your shoulder.

He can hardly fucking believe you’re real.

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possamble · 10 days

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realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

#possramble #ignore this im just babbling but #the thing is that like. i don't ship laios and marcille together. their relationship is so so important to me in that laios comphets himsel #and THINKS that he might be in love with her but he isn't and that's my insane obsession #platonic soulmates for real but they're so sweet together that i fully expect them to be shipped together #like i get it. that's almost the appeal for me. if dungeon meshi were any other series there'd be an epilogue where they get married #convention dictates that they're meant to be together as the male protagonist and his beloved female deuteragonist #but dungeon meshi DOESNT do that and i love it so fucking much they're the comphet besties ever for my strange little brain #like if i ever did an arranged marriage au it would absolutely be laios and marcille having a platonic political marriage and then just #the most insane mutual pining with marcille and falin while laios and marcille struggle their way into becoming best friends #the imagery of the king and his beautiful court mage being tender to each other and everyone thinking they're in love is like catnip to me #like yeah they'd be like that and have no idea people think they should be together and the subversion makes me so obsessed #the more people ship them romantically. the more i enjoy their platonic dynamic it's like some sort of weird comphet fetishism idk #people think they're in love and im outside the window like YES... YES!!!#but also the second i see stuff of them kissing on the mouth or fucking im like oh god no i went too deep in here i gotta get out #don't wanna see that. i'll go feral over the idea of laios and marcille being arm-in-arm like king and queen but they would not fuck.#i want marcille to be his default comphet beard and dance partner/plus one at official royal events but they're not kissing.#she's there on his arm because he's scared of the other noble women tryna get him and being a baby about it #and people see them muttering to each other and laughing and generally being very sweet and think that they're dating but they're not.#she's actually covered in hickies from falin underneath her dress and is gonna get dragon dicked right after the party is over #like she's in her bedroom and falin's helping her take her ridiculous dress off while listening to her complain about politics #and falin is the person she goes home to the person she falls asleep to and wakes up with #they're a triad of utter devotion to each other but only farcille's side of the triangle is romantic #it's almost like an open secret because they're not trying to hide it at all but people assume and are surprised to find out #like people are so right about her relationship with the toudens but with the siblings' roles switched #love of her life & irreplaceable life companion. does anyone get it #anyway. i don't know what's wrong with me #it bothers me that they're not the undisputed most popular het ship for marcille on ao3 #it's unnatural. marcille being paired with any other man should be a fringe case.

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sparemintss · 3 months

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Headcanon disguised as a little fic lmao

When Button House was being renovated for the hotel, items the button house ghosts would enjoy were being brought in (courtesy of Alison). Unbeknownst to Alison, the old radio from 1947 (she didn’t know the reason why it was bid so cheap) housed a ghost.

Said ghost would only come out when early 20th century songs played which nowadays would be difficult to hear but because it’s radio with many stations, there was always one that played 30s to 40s music.

This was found out when Julian was messing with the knobs of the radio and the ghosts surrounded Julian and the radio with fascination as the ghost faded in and out of existence before heaving to the politician, “please stop doing that- you’ll make me sick-“

“It speaks!” Thomas gasped which made the new ghost roll his eyes.

“Yes, I do.” He noticed Julian attempting to turn the knob again and shot a glare at him with a, “don’t.”

“New guy!” Robin pointed with a grin

Fanny hummed, “yes quite”

“Oooh! How exciting! A new best friend!” Kitty clapped her hands excitedly all the while twisting side by side. Which made the ghost smile albeit a bit awkwardly

Pat fixed his aviators and sidled up to the newcomer with a welcoming smile and a hand to shake, “hello! On behalf of me and my fellow ghosts, welcome to button house! I’m Pat! What’s your name?”

While the ghost shook Pat’s hand, he finally greet himself, “oh! Uhmm, I’m Anthony. Anthony Havers.”

It was then the Captain made a noise that reminded the room that he was still here.

To the Captain’s delight, the two found themselves in a daily routine. Since the ghosts saw that he was certainly very attached to Anthony for the next couple of weeks to the point where they had to drag him out of the room to join them with their clubs, they had a plan. The Captain obviously protested on this but Anthony swayed with the idea and to make it solid for the Captain, kissed his cheek and reminded him he isn’t going anywhere unless someone forgot to change the station.

(“Thank god we’re changing the channel in the afternoon. Can’t stand this, lovey dovey nonsense” icked Julian while Thomas woe’d, “oh when will it be my turn?!”)

From then on it was decided by the house ghosts that the radio should remain on this station every morning until it switched to a more lively station for the rest of the day. The Captain cherishing Anthony’s company every morning after his daily two minute thirty second runs morning runs.

#bbc ghosts #mint thoughts #capvers #caphavers #headcanon #I came up with this at 3am trying to fall back asleep #I think all these ghosts should have shenanigans #because every fic I read is so focused on capvers as a relationship #I need both of them separately to be in shenanigans #how does Havers interact with others?#does he even interact with the others at all?#is this man unhinged like the rest of them?#I want more of that

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finleycannotdraw · 1 year

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loved the witcher 3, absolutely will play it again.

anyone want to guess which two characters made me get up and scream giddily when they appeared onscreen for the first time? dandelion and regis. yep. the gay academics.

my geralt has the emo surfer haircut and I fear no gods

#being a little bit insane about how regis is the only man geralt hugs onscreen #like. mm I see you #geregis #geralt x regis #The witcher #the witcher fanart #geralt of rivia #emiel regis #finley cannot draw #blood and wine #the witcher 3 #the witcher games #have a doodle. I should be asleep rn

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kideternity · 11 months

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Do you want us to like, gay kill spider man or something man

#spider man #spiderman #marvel #richard fisk #jason macendale #roderick kingsley #the rose #jack o’lantern #hobgoblin #happy pride everybody. this is what happened in canon rigt #LASO I HOPE THE ALT TEXT IS OKAYY i wasnt sure how to do the like actions so i hoped referencing the original meme would make the most sense #if anyone thinks it sucks i can redo it ill just need help #also it is so late rn i should be asleep GOODNITE

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peachenle · 1 year

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enhypen as frat boys

genre: head canon | fratboy!au | suggestive themes

members: enhypen's hyung line

word count: 1k

warnings: mentions of drinking, hook ups; a lot of Greek life lingo

perm tag list: @ozymandia-s

༄࿔˚✧ synopsis: the older enhypen boys as typical frat bros, with glimpses of them in all their party glory.

TOO YOUNG TO DIE. TOO DRUNK TO LIVE.

// HEESEUNG is…

an executive board member for the chapter for SURE. Not quite president, something less taxing like Alumni Liaison or House Manager. Heeseung LOVES to help DJ at parties, he’ll drop his mixes if the party that weekend was successful.

Heeseung’s not above hookups at the house and is (notoriously) clumsy about forgetting to sexile/warn the other brothers. Super flirty with or without alcohol, making him a big fan amongst regular partygoers. Outside of parties you will never see him outside doing charity runs or any events that are super outdoorsy… he’d opt to volunteer to be the bro at the check-in table, or a driver… he’s a lil lazy… but he never fails to complete his duties! Strangely good at kegstands despite being so tall. Beer pong and beer die king.

When he was pledging, he was so enthusiastic and willing to do whatever embarrassing thing the upperclassmen threw at him… Heeseung’s passion, it almost scared them. He was paired with everyone’s desired Big AND was the most sought after Little in his pledge class.

"Theoretically, do I really have to play beach volleyball with the dudes?" "Heeseung, it's rush AND you're an exec, the answer is always going to be yes..." "Yeah, but it the League LCK semi finals..."

// JAY is…

definitely another exec: either VP or Risk Manager or Panhell Chair or something like that — he’s the strictest one on board. Everyone’s intimidated by him, he’s strict about deadlines, he’s always the one assigned to do the scolding… but he can DRINK (all the bros wanna be him). Jay is also not shy about hookups and letting loose at parties. He charms people by making drinks, offering them his special brandy/cabernet/etc he’s been “saving for the right person.” The bottles are always at least half gone because of the amount of people he’s shown. A wild card when it comes to beer pong. Some nights he'll dominate, but other nights, he's truly a disgrace.

Had a HARD time during pledge, (a lot of the dudes were jealous of his popularity!) and was picked on a lot, so Jay had his doubts. But getting his bid meant way more than he expected. Would definitely be the type to stay in touch as an alumni, going to events, dropping fat checks here and there. Every potential Little wants Jay as their big, he SPOILS them like crazy… (rumor has it that he’s planning on buying his latest Little a whole new custom PC...)

"Please I don't want Jay as my partner!" "Why? I beat them at pong last time?" "Yeah, but your track record dude... one and done..."

// JAKE is…

the life of the party. He’s the most welcoming to new people at the house, ushering wallflowers to the core of the action. He’s all about slinging arms around people, drunkenly claiming new friends, and his giggly laughter is CONTAGIOUS. He doesn’t have much interest in a leadership role, but he’s been Rush Chair for two terms and he absolutely killed it each time. Jake often volunteers to be a sober chaperone, because “I know how to have fun sober too!”. In this role, you’ll always see his hands full of mini water bottles and a plastic bag or two in his pocket as he patrols the house. Jake is the more studious type of frat bro, sometimes snapping at his bros to keep quiet the night before an exam (he’s studying physics, of course). And no, not really the hookup type at parties… Jake is too soft for that and enjoys the energy of the party too much to leave it for a quickie. His drinking game of choice is King's Cup, just because he likes to try to fool people into drinking more.

Surprisingly breezed through the pledging process despite not being that big of a drinker, and got picked up by a really good Big in the same major (they put each other as number 1 choice). As an upperclassman, he’s a little awkward navigating as the Big Bro - referring to his Little as his son. He means well, but can be a little embarrassing!

"Oh, you're the Question master? What was your name again?" "Nice try, you're not gonna get me." "Sorry, what? Music's too loud." "I said, 'Nice tr-'" "Gotcha. Drink up!"

// SUNGHOON is…

not your average frat boy - only in looks <3. He was way more reluctant to be involved than one may expect. He genuinely pursued it for the friendship/camaraderie/The Brotherhood. But the parties and attention were a plus. To outsiders, he looks a step out of place, always laughing AT his bros, not usually WITH them. Real ones know that he can be just as chaotic. Especially after a pint of beer and maybe 1.5 shots - that’ll do it for him. Always cracking lame jokes, earning the nickname of Dad amongst his class. Hooking up is not his thing, but if someone has really caught his eye… well, a private conversation on a balcony doesn’t have to mean too much, right? Sunghoon surprisingly really enjoys Rage Cage, and honestly, he's the type to purposefully miss his ball sometimes just to have to drink.

He's really good at tabling and mingling with potentials. His frat wants to make him their poster child - there's a solo picture of Sunghoon in every Instagram slideshow that's posted.

He barely rushed, but he worked his ass off as a pledge. Sunghoon was also another fan-favorite to be picked up as a Little. As a Big… other than him paying for a lot of things… when it comes to advice and the mentorship side of things, let’s just say its hard to tell who’s the Big and who’s the Little sometimes.

"You guys have used my pictures like 5 times this week for all the rush posts..." "Hey, don't look at me, Sunghoon. Blame our media guy! He says your face attracts the most likes." "I should charging... can you take it out of my dues?"

BONUS:

// SUNOO is…

desired by every social frat. But he couldn’t find any that appealed to him. Embarrassing for them really, their desperation. Sunoo found more of his home in a service frat! Has access to parties, the classic Big/Little pairing still, but in a more diverse environment with less pressure and more focus on the academic/philanthropic side of things.

Sunoo still gets invited to the crazy frat houses, in case he changes his mind, but only goes for the alcohol and the excuse to go out with friends. He’s friendly and magnetic at parties, befriending nearly everyone that gets lucky enough to talk with him. Every next morning he wakes up to tens of new follow requests from people he doesn’t even remember.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #frat boy!au #oh man i should be asleep lmfaooooo #what demon possessed me to drop some writing rn wtf #em rambles

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soul-teller · 4 months

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im sick and sad, pls send me your headcanons about your favorite characters (they also can be your own characters)

(p.s. also you can send them in my ask box or in replies or reblog this post with them, whatever you like)

there should've been a picture of my cat Jiji, bUT MOBILE TUMBLR NEVER LETS ME POST ANYTHING WITH A PICTURE, HATE HATE HATE HATE

#soulteller tales #man depresso espresso got me deep #i hate being siiiick end my miseryyyy aaaaaaarhg #by all means i should be asleep and ive got a test run of an exam tomorrow #blergh

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von-karmas-a-bitch · 8 months

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damn i had some really good tags on a reblog but tumblr ate it. anyways the gist of it was what if anime episode where the evil old man coworker trio (blaise, manfred and damon) were at manfred's place Discussing Work (drinking copious amounts of "grape juice" and laughing maniacally about their victories for which they Definitely Didn't Cheat) and franziska and miles are supposed to be playing quietly in the corner while the adults are talking but then baby franziska wanders off and the A plot becomes a very exasperated 10yo miles chasing a surprisingly fast and very brave 3yo franziska around the von karma estate, occasionally picking her up and carrying her away from danger until she inevitably escapes again. the B plot is just it occasionally cutting back to the old men and we catch one of them saying something insane but it's halfway through the sentence and we get no context. and then it cuts back to the siblings. one time when it cuts back to the old men, manfred is like "wait where's franziska" and he looks out the window and miles is in the garden holding her. he is very obviously disheveled and covered in scrapes and bruises and there are sticks and leaves lodged in his hair. franziska on the other hand is completely unscathed and in pristine condition. manfred shrugs and is like "eh, she's fine. anyway-"

#the kids are unsupervisedddddddd #franziska's papa is a Busy Man and i think there is comedic potential in that. i think she would get up to some real Antics #edit: also i just remembered miles is canonically Not Very Fit like. in investigations it's mentioned a few times #that he has never done a day of manual labour in his life and he should probably start doing some kind of physical activity #which makes the idea of him chasing franziska around the von karma estate even funnier #this wimpy little kid huffing and puffing. begging her to slow down. constantly outran by a 3-year-old #only able to catch up bc she waits for him when she can't see him bc she loves her brother #she is blissfully unaware of the dangers of the outside world and thinks they're just playing a game #once they get home miles just collapses onto the couch and does the deepest sigh #and baby franzi is like no more play? :( and baby miles is like. this close 👌 to losing it but he's too tired to say anything #so he just lets himself pass out on the couch while the maid deals with franziska #when miles wakes up franziska is there huddled up to him. curled up asleep like a little cat #he can't stay mad at that #text post #sibling brainrot #silly #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #manfred von karma #blaise debeste #damon gant

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triptuckers · 2 years

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a feeling of safety - rooster

Request: nope Pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader Summary: being called back to top gun means you see everyone again, even the ones you want to forget about Warnings: mentions of alcohol, a panic attack, swearing, mention of abuse, but besides that it's all fluff Word count: 1.6k A/N: when I tell yall rooster has been on my mind all weekend I mean it. this man has been on my mind all day every day all night every night istg im down BAD !! also this is not the fic I mentioned earlier, just something I thought of. readers call sign is sunny

even after all these years, your time spent at top gun was still your favourite period of time. which is why you were beyond excited when you got called back to it, to start training for a rather difficult mission.

lucky for you, you still owned a small house near the base. you had made so many good memories there, you didn't have the heart to sell it when you got stationed somewhere else.

and now you're back. you spent the first day cleaning the house and making sure the garden looked somewhat okay.

you were so excited to see everyone again. you had kept in touch with phoenix, but over the years you had lost contact with the rest. as soon as you got a call asking you back at top gun, you let phoenix know. the fact that she got called back as well made it all perfect.

the two of you met up at everyone's favourite bar, where you also caught up with penny.

you kept on seeing familiar faces come and go, and it was an evening filled with laughter, drinks and catching up. you didn't even mind hangman's horrible jokes.

at some point during the night, someone else caught your eye.

it appeared that rooster also got called back.

how could he not? in your eyes, he was still the best pilot you've ever flown with. last time you saw him, there was an unspoken thing between the two of you. yes, you'd made out a couple of times behind the bar when you had one too many drinks, but nothing more had happened.

you thought you'd matured enough after that. when you were training at top gun, you were young, full of life and you loved to go out every weekend. you'd changed after that.

but seeing rooster in one of his signature hawaiian shirts stirred something in you.

he caught your eye, and smiled at you. but your eyes are on someone who came in right after him. a face you thought you would never have to see again.

immediately, your chest tightens and you feel like you can't breathe. you freeze for a split second before you're getting up, abandoning the drink phoenix had just brought you from the bar.

all of your instincts scream at you to run, to get the hell out of there.

you mumble a quick 'catch you later.' at phoenix before you bolt and make for the back door.

rooster, seeing you freeze up when he came in, frowns and walks over to phoenix and hangman to ask them what happened. but they're just as confused as he is.

meanwhile, you're outside. you half walk, half run to your car.

normally you would never drive after having this many drinks, but the adrenaline in your body is making you act before you can think it through.

there's no way he can be here. no way.

he'd already ruined so much for you. he did not get to ruin your time back at top gun. he certainly did not get to poison your good time by being there.

before you know it, you're driving away. you don't even process where you're going.

your hands are shaking so you grab on tighter to the steering wheel. suddenly you're crying and your breathing is irregular. the tears in your eyes blur your vision as you pull up to a house.

you fully break down.

your entire body is shaking and you can't stop crying. even though you got away from the bar, your body is still high on adrenaline, in full flight mode.

it's dark outside and you've lost all sense of time when someone knocks on the window your car. you jump up, thinking it's him.

but when you rub your eyes and take a closer look you see it's rooster.

he's got a worried look on his eyes and opens the door of your car.

'hey sunny.' he says.

'hi rooster.' you say in a hoarse voice.

'I would have given you a ride if you'd asked, you know.' he says.

you frown, looking around you. you then recognise the house you drove to. it's not your own place, as you had thought. it's rooster's. you'd spent many nights there laughing and having drinks with your friends.

apparently you drove there out of instinct.

'come on, let's get you inside.' says rooster, reaching out and turning the engine off. he takes the key, unbuckles your seatbelt and offers you a hand.

you grab it, wishing you weren't still shaking so bad. if rooster takes any notice of this, he doesn't let it show.

rooster unlocks the door and takes you inside. he pulls you to the kitchen and makes you sit down. he places a glass of water in front of you and then takes a seat as well.

'some timing we're both back at top gun, huh?' he says. 'can't wait to see what they have in store for us. it seems like they got the best of the best.'

you're silent as you sip your glass of water, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body but you're still shaking.

'it makes sense you're here, and phoenix. just sucks hangman is there as well. I always had to get used to being around him and his bad sense of humor.' says rooster.

'aren't you going to ask?' you say.

'ask what?' says rooster.

'why I freaked out that bad.' you say.

rooster shrugs. 'looks like you're still pretty shaken up after that panic attack.' he says.

you lift your head to meet his eyes.

'what, you think I don't know a panic attack when I see one?' he says. 'besides, it's not my place to ask.'

a wave of gratitude washes over you. maybe this is why you drove here without realising it, you knew he wouldn't pressure you into anything. a part of you regrets not asking him out for drinks all those years ago.

'there was a guy who came in right after you.' you say.

'you don't have to tell me.' says rooster.

'it's alright.' you say. 'you deserve to know why I showed up at your doorstep all freaking out like that.'

'yeah, I don't.' says rooster. 'you don't owe me anything.'

'but you do.' you say. 'my instinct brought me here, rooster. I thought I was driving to my own place. but I wasn't. you make me feel safe. even after all these years. so, yes, you deserve to know.'

rooster is silent as he lets your words sink in. he was just glad he found you instead of some other random pilot. but the thought that he makes you feel safe, warms his chest.

'I was still at top gun, teaching the new students. you were already away on assignment.' you say. 'phoenix was still there. she doesn't know. that guy that came in, tried really hard to get me to go out with him. but he wasn't my type. far too loud and arrogant for my liking. but he kept pressing on, said we'd look perfect together. even when I explicitly told him I would never go out with him, he kept finding me. one night, I was at the bar just having a drink on my own. I had a rough day, a close call during a training flight. suddenly he was there, claiming I was waiting for him. he tried kissing me, I pushed him away, but he just tried again. said I shouldn't deny my body's needs. it took two other pilots who stumbled upon us to get him away from me, but not after he had already kissed and touched me a couple of times. I just didn't think I would ever have to see him again.'

rooster doesn't say anything for a moment. 'shit, y/n, I can't imagine what that must feel like for you.' he says. 'to get back to top gun and having to see that guy again. did you tell anyone about it?'

you let out a chuckle. 'no point in doing that.' you say.

'why not?' says rooster. 'that was abuse.'

'it'll be my word against his. all he has to say is that I was tipsy. and besides, it happened years ago. nobody cares.' you say.

'I do.' says rooster. 'what's his name?'

'I'm not giving you his name.' you say.

'but-' 'no, rooster.'

instead of pressing on, he nods. 'okay. then tell me what I can do for you.' he says.

you smile at him. 'you're already doing it.' you say. 'sitting here, listening to me, offering me a glass of water and a safe environment.'

rooster smiles back at you and reaches out to lay his hand on top of yours. the feeling of his hand on yours warms your heart.

'do you want to stay here tonight?' he says. 'I'll change the sheets and you can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch. I won't feel too good about you going home and be alone for the rest of the night after all of this.'

you smile again and feel a tear in the corner of your eye. rooster looks alarmed.

'was it something I said?' he says.

you quickly squeeze his hand. 'no, rooster, no.' you say. 'of course not. it's very kind of you to offer me a place to stay. but I won't have you sleep on the couch of your own home. I'll take the couch, if that's okay with you.'

'and I won't have a lady spend the night on the couch.' says rooster.

'it's fine.' you say. 'you take the bed, I insist.'

'we'll be here all night if I keep saying no, am I right?' says rooster.

'probably.' you chuckle.

'alight.' says rooster. 'let me see if I have some sweats and a shirt you can wear.'

that night, you sleep on rooster's couch. his scent lingers on the shirt he gave you. the adrenaline has worn off, and you realise how tired you are.

it doesn't take you long to fall asleep. after all, you feel safe here.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

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