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#and i know which stop to get off at so i'm not walking halfway across town
just-a-jock · 6 months
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Happy late Halloween. I hope you guys enjoy this Halloween special. Aaron miller is my favorite fitness influencer and always want to use him in story’s but always want to save him for something good. I ended up saying fuck it and writing the below. Let me know if you like it!
ROOMMATE CLONESTUME (Halloween Special)
You would think having a fitness influencer as a college roommate would be like winning the lottery. Being able to see pieces of eye candy almost every day, almost practically shirtless all the time, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You see Aaron Miller was your typical douchebag straight jock bro behind the camera. Always calling me fag but always saying he’s just joking and I need to toughen up. Of course, you would never catch him like that on camera, always playing like the fun-loving jock goofball. Thankfully he’s leaving tonight to go to some stupid Halloween party at the frat house.
“Yo fag! How do I look” I hear his voice call from the living room
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“Fucking hot right! All the chicks are gonna be all over me begging from some of this Miller cock” he said while smirking and flexing in front of the full-length mirror in the living room
“Yeah I’m sure they will Aaron” I reply while rolling my eyes and begging he would leave soon.
“You know some other frat across campus invited me to their Halloween but I already promised my bro I’m going to Alpha Omegas party. Feel free to accept my invite”
"I think I'm good, I got to finish my term paper but I guess thanks" I replied thinking it weird why he would think I would somehow fit in at a frat party
“Well, bro the invite is in my room and feel free to use last year's costume.. might be a bit big haha. Anyway gotta go before the good Pus gets taken” Aaron said taking one last pic for his IG story and heading out
“Thank god, I can finally work on my paper,” I said heading to my room. I walk by Aaron’s room and notice his door ever so slightly open. I ended up looking in and seeing a paper which I assumed was the invite lying on his messy bed next to what seemed to be the black Spiderman suit he wore last year for Halloween.
“Wow, did he really think I was gonna put that on” I say as I continue to walk further into the room the scent of stale gym clothes and musky axe cologne lingered in the air.
As I get closer to the bed I keep looking back and forth from the costume and the letter. I don’t know why but I ended up grabbing the costume something about it was calling me. The silky satin feeling of the spandex with the scent of stain sweat and beer, most likely from last year's party. “Maybe I should try it on” I whisper under my breath.
I start to undress myself in Aaron’s room until I’m standing in just my briefs. I look around feeling kinda risqué in his room half naked, but something felt right about putting this one. I slowly start to unzip the costume looking into the dark interior. As I started to put on the costume I could immediately tell it was quite a few sizes too big and especially since Aaron had worn it previously certain areas were stretched out more than usual. I slowly start to pull the costume up my body as I get halfway to putting it on something feels wrong
“No no why am I doing this I need to work on my paper” I say snapping out of the hazy confusion but as soon as I try to take off the suit I knew something was wrong
“What the fuck” The rest of the suit starts to climb up my slim body and sticking to any skin it touches. I tried to remove it, but the suit just snapped back almost like a second skin. “STOP” I scream as it continues to travel upwards my body covering all the way up until it reaches my neck. I soon hear the noise of a zipper closing and a cold feeling riding up my back. I immediately reached backwards trying to catch the self-moving zipper before it closed all the way, but I was too late as soon as I grabbed the zipper head I felt it disappear from my hand as the suit started to close up leaving no seam behind.
“What the fuck is this, how does this happen” I continue trying to take off the suit but it just gets tighter and tighter until a moment where I lose control. “What..” my body starts to move slowly by itself it feels like I lost control of anything the suit has encompassed. I start to move towards Aaron’s nightstand, grab the remote to his TV and turn it on. I was immediately blasted with the audio and imagined Aaron almost like he was starting off one of his annoying Instagram videos.
“What is going on PEEEOPLES! Or should I say fag” he said chuckling to himself at the uncreative nickname he has bestowed upon me.
“WHAT THE FUCK AARON WHAT IS THIS” I scream at the tv as my body stands still disobeying my mind.
“ you’re probably going “what the fuck Aaron?” or some shit like that but no bother bro, this is all recorded. No one to help you now haha. You see I was tired of having some fuck ass roommate that I couldn’t share anything with so I looked online and found this powder with some special powers. I sprinkled it on my old costume and all I had to do was wait for the next person to wear it. I knew you would be tempted. I mean who couldn’t” he says as he flexes his bicep.
“So anyways, I got invited to this banger party and said yes but some other frat also invited me to theirs and like fuck I couldn’t be in two places at once. So I thought and figure maybe you’ll like to go but couldn’t have some loser gay fag representing me so I decided you needed a small makeover. That special powder is gonna make you into me and you won’t even remember ever being your faggy little self. So hope you enjoy the party bro and remember the party is not complete till a girl gets bred.” And with that the TV shut off but before I could react something went over my head shutting my eyes
“Fuck fuck get this off of me” I say noticing that it was a mask probably to complete the stupid Spider-Man costume.
Soon the changes started to happen I felt the suit tighten but at the same time expand. It first started with my feet growing to a large size 14. The changes travelled upwards as my calfs and thighs started to expand giving me tree trunks for legs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in any of my pants anymore. Soon I felt a pain in my stomach like I was kicked by a boxer
“UGH FUCK” I say as I fall on my knees. While I couldn’t see anything under the suit I knew abs started to form one by one leaving an impressive six-pack behind. As I looked down I started to see my chest push out. Creating a shelf right under my head. Two massive pecs now jutted out of my body and now I had to make an effort if I wanted to see any part of my body below my pecs.
The change travelled outwards as the suit forced me to do a double bicep pose typical of what I see Aaron do when he’s back from the gym. Soon my biceps and triceps started to expand like crazy. My muscles became sore as they grew to match his arms exactly.
Lastly, the feeling travelled up to my face and I felt the muscles crack inside my skull and the fat draining from my cheeks. I was screaming in agony until the pain suddenly left.
My body Finally fell down to the ground like a puppet dropped by its owner. I slowly get up and start to remove the mask and notice the zipper has reappeared. I zip the costume just until it hits my waist. My body was sweating from the changes and I needed to know what happened.
I knew Aaron had a mirror in his closet and ran to the door to open it. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was seeing…
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An exact copy of him was standing right in the mirror.
“No no, this can’t be… I can’t be him” I say panicking not recognizing my own body in front of me. I tried to figure out what I could do to change back and started to run to my room, but as soon as I reached the door to exit, I came to a sudden halt.
I looked down which was difficult trying to see over these massive pecs and realised I still had the costume on. My eyes widened as my legs started to walk me back to his desk and force me to sit down. I tried to fight back but to no use. I was losing control… soon my arm started to move toward the computer and turning it on
“No wait, stop please” I scream at my unresponsive body but it continued to move on its own.
As the computer turns on a pre-loaded video comes along with it...
YOU ARE AARON MILLER
“NO NO STOP” I scream realizing it was hypnosis
Clips of Aaron flexing and pictures of his body invade the screen between phrases.
YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AARON
FLEX
JOCK
MUSCLE
My eyes started to become glued to the screen against my will. I tried to resist but I couldn’t. Soon I noticed my arms moving again. They move downwards and started to push the costume lower until *pop* my cock bounces out.
“No… please let me go,” I say as the arm reaches for my dick and starts to jack it off slowly at first.
JOCK
BRO
Soon the images changed. More of Aaron joking around with his friends, drinking, partying and working out. Videos of him fucking and breeding girls always started to appear. I knew some of them from school
BRO
DUDE
BREED
Soon the jacking off started to pick up speed as more and more of the hypnosis and reprogramming started to settle in. My brain was trying to fight a losing battle. I was able to gain a small amount of control to see my cock as I noticed it starting to expand. Slowly it lengthened from its original 5 inches hard …. 6…7….8 until I reached a mighty 9 inches. My hand started to lose grip as the girth also started to grow almost not allowing me to fully encompass the cock with one hand. Next, I felt my balls change they started to lower until they fell into a pouch inside the costume that no doubt used to be where the original Aaron had his. They grew larger as my moans started to overshadow the video. I felt a kick in the balls as I knew my old cum was being eaten by the new alpha cum Aaron produces
“Pls… uhhh… stop this” I say with the last residuals of will I had as my arm continued jacking my new cock until it reached near orgasm
“No….”
BREED
“Pls…”
JOCK
“I don’t”
YOU ARE
“Want thi….”
AARON MILLER
“FUUUUUUUCK”
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I cum all over my body and my room as I snap out of the horny daze
“Fuck that was good. Now gotta get to that fucking party before someone takes all the good puss”
I get up from the desk and shuffle over to my closet to grab a used cum towel and wipe myself off.
I grab the costume from my waist and pull it all the way up zipping the costume as well. I smirk in the mirror knowing all the chicks are gonna want some of this Miller cock.
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The original Aaron’s plan worked perfectly. He now had a complete copy of himself running around breeding and partying. He finally had someone he could share everything with, himself! Of course, people asked questions but he just said it was his twin brother.
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wlntrsldler · 1 month
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poisoned mercury | check yes, juliet
a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over halfway finished! i'll be posting poisoned mercury playlists soon! pls continue to send me songs that remind you of this series. i'm running out of songs to use as titles. thank u for all the love on this fic <3
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series masterlist | previous | next
vi. check yes, juliet by we the kings
“where are we going?” 
“are you going to ask that every two seconds?” 
“you kidnapped me, castellan.” 
luke stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at you. you were about a quarter mile away from camp now, and it seemed like every ten steps, you asked him the same question. if he didn’t find you so cute, he would turn around and walk straight back to camp. 
“i will throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way there, five star,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes teasingly. he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but by the look on your face, you certainly were. “don’t test me.” 
“and i will scream bloody murder if you do,” you narrowed your eyes at him in a challenging manner. 
“here i am, trying to do something nice for you and you accuse me of kidnapping you,” luke continued his steps, slowing down to let you catch up to him. he didn’t realize how much shorter you were than him. the top of your head just went past his shoulders, but your personality made up for the difference. “we’re almost there, keep up.” 
“not everyone has long legs, castellan,” you huffed, increasing your pace. “slow down.” 
“do you want to get there or not?” he asked, throwing you a teasing smile over his shoulder. you guys really needed to get there soon. the sun was beginning to set and he didn’t want you to have to walk in the dark, even if he was with you. your safety came first, above everything, and he wasn’t gonna put you in a potentially dangerous situation. 
you whined, tugging on the side of his t-shirt, “how much longer?” 
“that’s it,” luke declared, squatting down to throw you over his shoulder. you squealed, hitting his back with your balled up fists. he knew you didn’t do it to hurt him. he can feel you pulling your punches. 
you felt the vibrations from his laughter on his back. luke was enjoying this too much. he carried you over his shoulder like it was nothing. perhaps all those morning workouts were paying off. you twisted your neck to scold him, thankful that he couldn’t see the smile on your lips, “put me down, i swear to god.” 
“nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ he tapped your calf with his fingers, “it’s just around the corner.” 
luke put you down in front of a building. there were five store fronts, three of which had faulty neon lights. you could barely make out the store names. the other two stores had signs up declaring vacancy. it was a little sketchy, but luke seemed to love it. he had his hands on his hips, staring up at the sign that seemed to say “achilles arcade.” 
“what is this place?” luke held the door open for you as you wandered inside the store. the place was dimly lit with old-school arcade games lining the walls. an old man was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the morning paper. 
“just wait,” luke grinned, pulling on your hand to lead you to get some tokens, “chiron! my man.” 
the man placed the newspaper on the surface, eyes lighting up at the sound of luke’s voice. he beamed, “luke castellan! i was afraid you weren’t gonna come back.” 
“you know i keep my promises,” luke let go of your hand, introducing you to chiron, “chiron, this is yn. she goes to camp with me.” 
“pleasure to meet you,” he tipped his head, reaching under the counter to dig out a bucket full of golden tokens. 
you took out your wallet, “how much do we owe you?” 
“on the house,” he waved off, “he donated a ridiculous sum of money to keep this place up and running. too generous, this one, so it wouldn’t be right for me to charge you when he’s keeping me in business.” 
luke shook his head, sliding a hundred across the counter anyway. he took your wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, knowing that you’ll probably try to slip him some cash if he didn’t. you grumbled, but decided not to pick a fight. it didn’t seem like one you’d win. 
luke grabbed the bucket by the handle and turned to you, “where do you want to start, five star?” 
“you took me to an arcade?” 
“yeah,” luke said, sheepishly, “whenever i run out of cigs, i always go to an arcade to keep my mind off things. it’s childish, but it works. figured you could try it. plus, there’s a smoke shop across the street so we can go there when we’re done here.” 
“only one thing is better than the feeling of a new cherry ice vape,” you got close to him, nearly toe to toe. luke could smell the perfume on your skin, the scent of your shampoo, and his cologne that lingered on the hoodie of his that you wore. he reminded you that you always got cold and that you should bring a sweater, but you assured him that you wouldn’t. halfway to the arcade, you were shivering and luke knew that he made the right decision bringing his hoodie with him. 
you rolled your eyes, but accepted it. his hoodie stopped mid-thigh and engulfed you, but it looked better on you than it ever did on him. something about you wearing a hoodie that had his band name on it made his heart skip a beat. he had to listen to you make fun of him for tripping over air after he saw you in his clothes, but he didn’t expect anything less from you. 
he licked his lips, eyes darting to your own, “and what is that, five star?”
“beating your ass at galaga.” 
luke’s laughter echoed throughout the empty arcade as you ran from him with the tokens in your hand. you looked back at him with a mischievous smile on your face and he felt his heartstrings tug in his chest. you stuck your tongue out at him, starting the game as he stayed in his spot, admiring you. 
there weren’t many moments where he could be out in public like this, so when his mom reluctantly agreed to stop at this building on the way to camp due to a flat tire, luke and the boys were ecstatic to find that there was an empty arcade hidden in montauk. luke talked to chiron and learned his story while the boys played random games to kill the time. luke found out that the arcade wasn’t doing well financially with the increase in rent prices and that they would have to close down at the end of the summer if things don’t pick up again. chiron mentioned that he and his partner started this business twenty years ago, and he was sad to see it go. 
luke excused himself and snuck back into the tour bus to grab his checkbook. he wrote a check that covered rent and other expenses for the year and gave it to chiron. of course the man refused it, but luke wasn’t taking no for an answer, not after chiron shared that the arcade was the last living piece of his partner. luke castellan was a hopeless romantic, which not many people knew. he knew he was done for the minute he heard their love story. 
he stood there for a few moments, watching as you cheered, dodging the blasts of your enemies. you were so animated while you played, so expressive with your eyes and your voice. he’d only seen you like this a handful of times, talking to clarisse about god knows what, talking to the younger campers and asking them questions about their projects and interests, and when you asked him about his music. all of your monotoned replies and deadpan looks were all he got for the longest time, it seemed like your nonchalance was only for him, so it was nice to see you like this. it felt like you were warming up to him. 
he thought about the talk the two of you had in your room, how different you’d been then. after being iced out for weeks, luke was a little shocked at how soft you were with him earlier, playing with his rings, holding his hand, talking to him. it was a welcomed surprise, of course, but he expected you to kick him to the curb. he still didn’t understand what actually happened after the concert, but he figured you already had a tough day, so that conversation can wait. 
he made his way to you, leaning across the screen to slightly block your view, “you might be better than me at this game, but your ass is mine at guitar hero.” 
“not fair,” you were focused on the game, eyes glued on the screen in front of you. “you’re in a band. of course you’re gonna be better than me at that.” 
“life’s not fair, five star,” luke poked your side, making you squirm. you died in the game because of it. “my turn, yeah?” 
you shoved his chest, reluctantly moving over. “you cheated.” 
he looked over his shoulder, smirking, “how did i cheat?” 
“you distracted me!” 
“i did not!” he argued, chuckles escaping his lips. his tongue darted out the corner of his mouth. his concentration face was annoyingly attractive. 
“did too,” you mumbled, watching over his shoulder to see how he was doing. he was doing really well. damn teenage boys and their affinity for video games. your chin rested comfortably on his shoulder blade as you watched him play. 
luke’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly too aware that you were so close to him. he could feel your breath against the nape of his neck, your lips dangerously close to where his tattoo was. he snuck a glance at you, noting how you were too focused on his score inching closer to your own. 
“ha!” you yelled, pulling away from him. you bumped his hip with yours, moving him out of the way, “my turn.” 
“okay, you cheated.” 
you hit pause on the game, placing your hands on your waist, “how?” 
“you were distracting me! putting your head on my shoulder and shit.” 
“awww,” you cooed, playfulness in your tone, “do i make you nervous?” 
luke’s face flushed. he shook his head, tilting his head down to hide the color on his face. he rubbed the back of his neck, “play your fucking game.” 
you said something about him being a sore loser and cheered loudly when you beat his score. when you both ran out of lives, luke led you to guitar hero and as expected, kicked your ass at the game. the two of you played in the arcade until there was one golden token left in the bottom of the bucket. as you wandered around the room, your eyes landed on a black and white photobooth tucked away in the corner. 
“let’s take some pictures,” you grabbed his hand, leading him over there before he could say no. you shoved him inside the photobooth, tapping his knee to make him stop manspreading on the small bench. 
it could barely fit two people so it was a tight squeeze. you were sitting so close to luke, thighs pressed together as you tapped on the small screen to begin the process. luke could feel the warmth of your skin against his and he was glad that there was no colored photos option because his cheeks were bright red. maybe he can blame the lights making him feel hot if you brought it up, but he wasn’t sure if his voice even worked enough to utter out his excuse. 
“you better smile, castellan,” you threatened, turning to look at him before you inserted the token in the slot. “not that little side smirk shit that you do in all your pictures.” 
“what side smirk?” 
“that thing you do in your pictures!” you shouted, “in every single instagram post, you always do it.” 
luke raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile appearing on his lips, “you’ve stalked my instagram?” 
“not the point,” you ducked, pretending to mess with the settings of the photobooth. luke can see your shy smile on the screen in front of him. “i’m just saying, smile normally.” 
“that’s how i smile, five star! what do you want me to do?” 
“that is not how you smile!” you argued. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you faced him. he was already looking at you, soft eyes and a hint of a smile on his features. a stray curl was out of place on his head and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over to put it back in place. luke held his breath as your fingers grazed the side of his face, taking much longer than you needed to fix his hair. your thumb subconsciously rubbed against the scar on his cheek. luke let his eyes close at the feeling. 
“there,” you whispered, pulling your hand back to your side. “that’s how you smile.” 
he tried his best to keep that same expression on his face to see what you were talking about. he glanced at the screen and found himself stunned at what he found. you were right. this is not how he looked in his instagram pictures. he almost didn’t recognize himself as he stared. he looked different like this. 
there were no creases between his eyebrows or on his forehead, like there was no stress on his shoulders. his eyes looked brighter somehow as if he was at peace, exactly where he needed to be at that moment. his lips were quirked up in a tender smile, parts of his teeth showing between the gap of his top lip and bottom lip. did he always look like this when he was with you? awe-struck and enraptured by your presence? 
he should feel pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were looking at him like you enjoyed this clandestine look on his face, a look that he reserved only for you. he couldn’t feel pathetic when you were looking at him in the same way. a secret language between the two of you, that nobody else in the world could even begin to understand.
the countdown on the screen started and luke was pulled from his thoughts quickly when you pressed your cheek against his, grinning as the timer flashed across the screen. he let himself smile, teeth on full display before the flash went off. the second countdown began and luke watched you fumble around to pick the next pose. you settled on a silly pose, sticking your tongue out as you held up the ‘rock and roll’ sign with your hand. he followed your lead, letting a snicker leave his lips at how fitting the pose was. 
the final photo was uncoordinated. luke wasn’t ready for the flash to go off. you placed your hand on his shoulder, craning your neck to look up at him. if he leaned down an inch or two, his lips would touch yours. the realization had the wires in his brain crossed. when the machine took the picture, luke was staring lovingly into your eyes, a look of indecision on his face. his lips were curled into a bashful smile, the tip of his nose touching yours. 
“five star,” luke breathed out, his arm snaking around your waist. your leg was now placed on top of his own. 
you gulped, nudging his nose with yours, “luke…” 
he’d never heard his name leave your lips before other than when you were mocking the gossips you heard about him. he’d never heard your real voice call him by his name. now that he has, he was addicted to the sound of it. he never liked his name that much, but somehow, when you said it, it sounded like poetry. he never thought a single syllable could sound so beautiful, have his knees buckling at the utterance of it. but with you, he supposed there was always a first for everything. 
when the bright red words stating “your photos are ready!” illuminated the inside of the photobooth, the two of you jumped apart from each other, blushing wildly. luke took a moment for himself inside the photobooth, rubbing his face with his palms, as you walked out to retrieve the pictures. luke followed you after taking a few deep breaths. 
he saw you leaning against the wall, the two strips of pictures in your hand. you had a goofy grin on your face, admiring them. luke sauntered next to you, taking a look at the photos. 
he accepted the strip of photos you handed him, “we probably should’ve discussed our poses beforehand.” 
“i dunno,” you were still staring at the pictures, biting your bottom lip. “i like ‘em.”
luke hummed, taking out his wallet. he folded the strip in threes, slotting the last photo in the clear compartment of his wallet. it looked perfect against the black leather, like it was the last thing needed to make his wallet look complete. he slipped it back in his back pocket, taking yours out to return to you. 
“smoke shop?” he asked. 
“please,” you nodded, beginning to walk out of the arcade. you waved goodbye to chiron who moved onto doing the daily crossword. “bye chiron! great to meet you!” 
he bid the two of you goodbye, a knowing gaze on his face. you were already out the door when he sent luke a wink that had him shaking his head, face turning red at the man’s antics. luke shut the door behind him, ushering you over to the sidewalk towards the smoke shop, “i’m out of cigs too, so this is actually perfect timing.” 
you waited outside the smoke shop, sitting on the curb. luke had a fake id (for research purposes, of course. he was just curious to see what the kentucky ids looked like.) so he bought your vape and his cigarettes. when he emerged, he joined you on the curb, pulling out his phone to call an uber back to camp. 
the sun was long gone and he could hear the owls hooting in the distance. it was not a good idea to walk back to camp, even if it wasn’t even a mile away. he watched you unwrap your vape, taking a small hit from it. he lit his cigarette with the lighter he carried with him and smoked with you in silence. 
“uber is gonna take twenty minutes,” he said, placing his phone between the two of you, face up. “i’m guessing there’s not many people around here.” 
you glanced at his phone, giggling at his lockscreen. it was a picture of the entire band, wearing matching novelty sunglasses taken at a .5 angle. they looked ridiculously like the guys you’ve grown to adore. “i like your lockscreen.” 
luke tapped his phone to wake it up. he let out a laugh, “mom took it when we played vegas for the first time. we were too young to go out and we were too afraid to use our fakes so we went to m&m world and got wired on sugar.” 
“you guys are really close, huh?” 
“got to be,” luke shrugged, “we’re together 24/7, but even before that… these guys are my brothers. love ‘em, even when they’re a pain in my ass. what’s your lockscreen?” 
you pulled out your phone, showing him the picture of you, clarisse, and silena flipping off the camera. it was taken during one of your (failed) attempts at studying at the library. you were all in sweatpants and large hoodies with the stress of midterms evident on your faces. “that’s silena, my other best friend from unc. her boyfriend, charlie, took this picture because he said we looked absolutely miserable. and we do, but it makes me happy looking back at it. we were struggling together and we somehow made it out together.” 
“i do not miss school at all,” luke blew out the smoke in his mouth, “i was a shit student.” 
“but now look at you,” you teased, “mr. rockstar.” 
“yeah, yeah,” luke copied your voice, “can’t complain.” 
you hummed, tucking your vape in the pocket of luke’s hoodie, “you can, especially with me. i’m the number one hater, so i enjoy complaining quite a bit.” 
“oh, i know.” 
you smacked his arm, rolling your eyes as he stumbled in his seat, laughing. you cleared your throat, voice turning serious, “seriously. i owe you for today, so complain to me all you want.” 
“you don’t owe me shit, five star,” luke put out his cigarette, standing up as his phone alerted him that the uber was coming soon. he held out his hand to help you up. “but i will take you up on that offer. of course, i can only do that if you don’t ignore me for weeks again.” 
you slapped his hand away, shaking your head, smiling, “shut the fuck up.” 
luke flagged down the uber, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you into the backseat. you entered, making polite conversations with the lady in the driver’s seat. 
“for chase?” 
luke nodded, “yup, thanks so much.” 
as the car drove off in the direction of camp, you turned to luke, mouthing, “chase?” 
he took out his wallet and handed you his fake id: chase reed, brown eyes, brown hair, 5’11. 
luke safely tucked the id back in its slot when you tossed it back at him, giggling at his alter-ego. he didn’t say anything when you moved closer to him, sitting in the middle seat, and held his hand the rest of the way back to camp.
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cupidscrule · 3 months
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BUNNY TRAP
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Stepdad!Leon X Fem!Reader
Cw - p in v, daughter chasing after dad, stepcest, noncon(?) Unprotected
WRD- 1.5k
You always knew your dad was hot, total babe back in the 2000's ever since you were a kid your friends always gushed over him, and it was fair, always thought it was gross though. Like he's YOUR dad, stepdad yeah but he still raised you, sure he had a cute face, big arms, his pornstar tits were an add on. But he was Dad, nothin' more, But fuck the way he cups your cheek when your sad, hugs you, gives you that awkward Dad kiss. Just makes you yearn for him, which is wrong you know it's wrong but it's like that itch.
Your friends are always tellin' you how lucky you are, not only is Dad hot, he's nice y'know? Real good dad, picks you up everyday, gets you real nice things. Best guy honestly can see why Mom picked him!
"Hi kiddo, you wanted to check out that new place-?" Dad said opening your bedroom door, stupid fucken smile on his dumb hot face
'bury your face in my tits'
"Oh no -! It's okay- really I'm real tired"
'fuck me till I can't breathe'
"Huh- alright, come down soon dinners gonna be ready, and sorry Moms not home yet she said she'd be here in a few weeks 'k?"
'i wanna scream your name'
"Oh it's alright, and of course dad!"
With that he left, shutting the door halfway, dick move but it probably wasn't on purpose, the smell of his colone in the room, only imagining Dad stuff you up. God your disgusting, this is dad. Fourth something year old DAD, since when did you have these thoughts about him, as a kid sure you always thought he was cute 'ohhb I would totally date someone as big and strong as my Daddy!'
But it was LIKE, not actually him. But you can't stop thinkin' about him, wanting Dad to shove your face in the mattress pull on your hair, do the shit they do in pornos. Nasty thoughts, feeling gross and hot imagining all the shit you wanna do with the poor guy, as he just stood there not knowin' thinking your his innocent little daughter who could do no wrong! Oh no she would never have sex before marriage! Oh no my little girl doesn't even cuss!
Yeah right Dad, mhm. Actin' like in middle school my friends weren't blushing over you, whenever you walked in.
Fucken idiot, your little girls not pure, she's not good. She ain't innocent, hell she fantasizes about fucken you every day. It doesn't matter, nothings ever gonna come of this right? Just walk downstairs, eat dinner with dad and go back in your room and sleep it off.
"Sweetiee you finnaly came, how was your day?" Dad says sitting across from you, he didn't even cook. Fucken liar this was clearly some bullshit from a 4 star restaurant he just put on a plate. "Oh it's fine, nothin' much." You say staring at the table, trying to distract yourself from him, how he smells, how he sits, how he opens his mouth, the way he moves his bangs out of his dumb face, his breath. The intoxicating feeling of just bein' near him now.
"Are you okay?"
"Why'd you ask that? You know I'm always fine-" you say in response, playing with your fingers, avoiding his gaze. God feels like a crush in primary school, messin' up words and giggling to your friends about the fastest guy. "You just don't seem like yourselfer Hun, you can always talk to me you know that?" He says, feeling his eyes on you, not in a creepy way more an endearing way which somehow made your entire situation worse. "yeah- I know, don't worry it's fine!" You mumble, lookin' up at him, god he really was dreamy, just wanting him to- NO no more fantasy's.
You finish up, so does he. He just gives you that concerned Dad look before you get up and run back up the stairs like a bitch and lock yourself in your room, typing into Google
'how to stop liking your dad'
'is it normal to have a crush on your dad'
'is it illegal to fuck your step dad'
Jesus Christ your search history, just laying on your side in your bed. Thighs squeezed together tryna' stop thinking about dad, you've seen him shirtless before. Yeah you felt a little hot in your core before, anytime he hugged you you felt so- just so warm. Not the lovey Awee dad and daughter warm, more like if your boyfriend hugged you nice and tight! Feels good, feels warm and fuzzy, pit in your stomach that can only be filled by one thing.
Tossin' and turnin' it's only 6:00pm shit, Dad's still downstairs probobly watching some old movie, he really likes thoughs for some reason, and westerns it's kinda creepy but your the one who wants to fuck him so you really can't be judging. your thoughts are too much to bare, a girl can only last so long on the edge, panties soaked thinking about shit, and hell when you can actually recreate what you want, Nothing's stopping you. Other then ethics but who even cares anymore, walking downstairs to Dear ol' Daddy, bingo.
"Mm- Dad-? Can I talk to you?" You mutter walking up behind the sofa he's laying in, playing with your fingers, how do even address this like,
'Oh yeah dad! Can you just bend your daughter over and fuck her till she's blubbering nonsense, you raised her since she was seven but y'know !!'
No.
"Hm, yeah of course, what's the problem bunny?" He says sitting up, glancing behind him to your miserable face, little frown on your lips. He raises a brow seeing your face, you felt all fuzzy feeling your throat get dry, the hell were you supposed to do?
"Uh Dad, can- can you come upstairs" you mutter looking at him, feeling your chest get heavy. Of course dear Daddy doesn't wanna disappoint you so he gets up and walks over to ya
"What's wrong, Hun?" He says, so sweetly fuck. Looken' all concerned for you, just fall into his chest, even though Dad was in shape he had fatass boobs, real nice to put your face in whenever he hugged ya. Just like always as a concerted Daddy does he puts an arm around you, pulling you nice and tight, "Baby?" He says in that same voice, pullin' your face away from his body, looking down at you.
"Can- can we just sit down" you say grabbing his hand forcefully and leading him to the nice leather sofa, you didn't know much about Mom but she really liked expensive shit and this was the only thing at home she bought..
You push him onto his back, his head resting on the arm, he looked kinda confused, like a puppy! You crawl over on top on him, ass rested on his lower pelvis. "Hey Bunny this is a little- whats wrong?" Dad says trying to carefully lift you off of him, awe stupid Daddy actin' like you're just gonna listen to him
"Dad just let me do this- please, you love me right?" You say looking at him in the eyes, pout on your stupid lips, he just nods slowly as a response. Unzippin' his jeans, wow this really is a shitty porno plot.
'Cute stepdaughter seduces and fucks her Dad while Mom isn't home!'
Jesus Christ you fucking creep.
With his pants open pulling out is fat cock, he wasn't hard which kinda hurt, you were being all cute and all dad did was just sit and stare in shock. Like sure you were gropen him and stuff but he could put some effort in it? Whatever doesn't matter-? You sit on his thighs pulling off your night pants, your panties were already wet from earlier, sadly it seemed Dad didn't really wanna reinact your fantasy so you gotta do all the work, flicking your garments to the side, crawling back onto him. Placing your hips over his Dick, and taking it in, feeling his tip touch your cervix "Mm- fuck-" you murmer, taking a second before getting used to it, slowly moving your hips back and forth, feeling ever little movement. It was euphoric, hands on his chest, looking at his face he looked like he was trying to not enjoy it, but you could tell he was. You felt his breath get heavier anytime you went faster, such a good boy.
His fat dick bruising your womb, your walls squeezing against him, you could hear Dad muttering curse words under his breath, made you feel kinda better about this whole thing. Going to your high and getting that numbing feeling, stomach felt warm, brain all fuzzy and messy collapsing onto him, feeling that warm stuff leaking out of you, pulling yourself off Dad, laying on his chest, glancing up at him, seeing his flushed and disturbed face, awe it was so cute!
He probably felt horrible but you felt amazing, fuck best experience. Putting your arms aside his
"I love you Dad.." you spout into his shirt
"Your Mother can't hear about this B-bunny.." he replies, putting one of arms on your back, you could feel his chest go up and down so cute.
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maximotts · 1 year
Note
i feel like cowboy wanda would be so gentle the first few times she has sex with you bc she’s worried she’ll hurt you and scare you off but eventually she loses control a bit and manhandles you into position and when she pins you down, you moan and then the most DEVILISH smile spreads across her face
Ooo okay okay it's interesting you brought this up because I've been thinking about their first encounter a bit lately! We'll ignore that this turned into a whole fic, okay? I love them sm Also this isn't really edited because it was supposed to be a short answer and now it's uhm.. not short, so forgive any typos
18+ only please . wc: 2.7k . cw: first meeting hookup, drinking, dirty talk, oral, fingering, v light spanking, lap sits, possessiveness, Wanda being smitten, the pickup truck sex a lot of y'all have been asking me about that I said was coming, morning after with Wanda because she's as proper as she is filthy
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Basically right now I have their first time more as a hookup where bunny is new to town and goes out to a bar one night to maybe make friends and see the environment, but then she meets Wanda and her group of friends who are all more than welcoming and you're having a great time hanging out with them.
But your eyes keep drifting to Wanda. Of course Wanda notices and, being the smooth talker she is, starts flirting with the new girl. She buys you as many drinks as you want which, end up being stronger than you're used to, but your nerves keep you ordering more. When she finally slips an arm around you, cornering you in the booth you'd only just plopped yourself into, you're more than ready for Wanda to kiss you— and kiss you she does.
You're shy by nature, never having made out with anyone in a bar, much less with a girl you'd only known for a few hours, but Wanda's thumb brushing over your cheek while she bites down on your bottom lip has you forgetting everything you're used to which admittedly, isn't much. Somehow she's pulled your thighs over her own, toying with the stretchy hem of the form-fitting skirt you'd decided to wear last minute. When she touches a particularly sensitive spot, you shiver and Wanda chuckles, "You cold, darlin'? Pretty as your arms are, I'll let you borrow my jacket if it'd help."
And so the night goes on with Wanda's thick denim jacket slung over your shoulders, her arm around your waist wherever the two of you walk. Normally you'd hate the presumptive way the cowgirl was handling you, as if she owned you already, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit you wanted her to stake her claim. So, in your slightly inebriated state, you took a leap, "Wands, I'm sleepy..."
Which catches her attention immediately. "Well now," Wanda pulls you close then, fingers carefully treading the line between caressing your hip and groping your ass; it would be the first time she whispers in your ear, but it'll never stop being insanely hot. "I hope you're telling me because you're going to let me take you home. I'd be real sad leaving tonight without you."
You wish your giggle of a reply didn't sound so girlish and naïve, but in hindsight, you had no idea the sheer intensity you were in for. "Only if you promise to behave yourself."
She's driven about halfway back to her house before she has to pull over; technically it was her land, pulled over to the side of the winding road and turning her truck engine off. "I know I promised to take you home, I still will, but I can't take another second not having my hands on you."
It takes you back a little; all you'd been doing was scratching over her jeans while you stared at the woman driving, but you weren't going to argue with her. "I don't really-"
"I've wanted you on my lap since I laid eyes on you. Get over here." Thankfully she doesn't have to convince you any farther, holding back a groan as you straddled her legs, skirt riding up inch by inch. It was a tight squeeze with you between her and the steering wheel, but Wanda hardly noticed once you started kissing her. This time was impossibly hotter, Wanda's tongue taking control of the kiss before moving on to shamelessly leave marks along your jaw and neck.
And Wanda is too good at getting your clothes out of the way, leaving you topless with record speed, squeezing at your breasts roughly while you struggled just to keep up with her mouth. "What if someone sees..."
The brunette only starts toying with your nipples, relishing in the way it got you rolling your hips. "It's pitch dark, silly girl. I can barely see you out here, don't worry your pretty little head."
You lost the last bit of your restraint the moment Wanda passed her fingertips over your underwear. They were thin lace, chosen by design so as not to show under your skirt, but they drove Wanda wild. She pushed them aside to slide her fingers along where you were already warm and sensitive, hips stuttering as she stroked over your clit. "O-Oh.."
"Look at you, already wet and needy. Were you like this all night? That why I caught you squeezing your thighs together so often?" You shook your head, trying to deny it, but you weren't even fooling yourself.
Wanda's had you rocking in place for hours by this point; you thought sure you'd been subtle and being called out for your behavior found your head ducking into the crook of Wanda's shoulder to avoid her knowing gaze. "Aww, it's okay! It'll be our little secret, promise..."
Wanda discovered night one what a responsive person you were, delighting in the vice grip you held on the back of her seat while she rolled your nipple in time with her other hand on your sensitive bud. You rocked against her hands as best you could, fighting to keep pace, but hopefully not finish so easily— it'd just been so long and you needed this much more than expected.
The next morning, you'd blame the alcohol. "Wanda please, I- I need.."
"What do you need, sweetheart, wanna cum? Make a mess in my truck after I barely got started with you?" You were nodding so hard your neck hurt, moaning quietly as you felt your body reach its peak; the first of many that night. Ears ringing and thoughts so pleasantly fuzzy, you couldn't recall a time you'd felt more free, in an old pickup truck or otherwise.
"Ooh, aren't you just a masterpiece..." The brunette took her time letting you down, pointer and middle fingers wandering until they just barely pushed into you: less than an inch, but unendingly torturous. "Sounds like I was able to make you feel better, least a little bit."
Tired hips tried every which way to sink onto Wanda's long fingers, the same ones you'd felt on you over your clothes back in the bar and had lists of naughty places you wanted her to put them. But each time, your lover avoids delving anywhere past shallow. "You're being mean, just fuck me."
"Mean? After I let you cum as early as you wanted? You don't know what mean looks like on me. Don't think you want to," A succession of wet slaps echoed in the truck's cabin, the silence of everything around you both amplifying the sound of Wanda lightly hitting your sensitive cunt and your resulting whimpers.
"Told you so. Now, bend over and stay still while I get a proper look like the obedient girl I know you are," Manhandling you over the length of her seats shouldn't have been as easy as it was after the long night out, but Wanda was strong and you never fought her while she pushed your arms to the passenger car door and spread your bent knees apart.
If you were begging her to fuck you out loud, you wouldn't be surprised, wishing so hard that if Wanda still refused to give you exactly what you wanted, she'd at least use her fingers, tongue, anything to fill where you currently felt so empty. "Please- I need more-"
Your thighs shake as she licks over your puffy folds, mumbling the most depraved things about you, your taste, your warmth, leaving you with the most intoxicating combination of feeling both used and adored. "You just keep dripping into my mouth, baby, it's impossible to keep you clean..."
"Can't help it, sorry," But your words aren't matching your actions, not when you kept searching out Wanda's tongue each time she flicked at your clit, pitifully rolling over the rough surface whenever she flattened it out.
You'd long since fogged up the windows, smudging the fog as your overheated cheek met the cold glass; each time you managed to open your eyes you remember exactly where you are, woods rustling in the middle of the night. "W-Wanda! 'm close again, please please...!"
"Mean girls wouldn't let you have two orgasms back to back, no matter how pretty." Wanda likes to believe she actually thought about whether or not to give you what you wanted, but in reality she knew she would leave you wanting the second you turned bratty. Sure it was a risk, not knowing how you'd react, but it was well worth the test to see if you had a chance of handling her past a quick night's distraction. "Straighten up, we're only a few minutes from home."
"That's not fair—"
But Wanda was already pushing you upright again, haphazardly fixing your dress, going so far as to buckle your seatbelt as if it'd keep you from your uncomfortable wiggling. "My car my rules! Like I said, we're not far."
Wanda expected you to pout and huff the whole way, worried in the back of her mind you wouldn't let her lay another hand on you after her denial, but she was pleasantly surprised. Somewhere shortly after she pulled back onto the road, you'd taken her hand; first just to play with her fingers, innocent fidgeting at best, but before she knew it, her digits were engulfed in sinfully wet warmth.
Her fingers in your mouth made the pair of you dizzy, hands holding her wrist as you pumped her digits in and out, tongue swirling over the tips and grinning once Wanda's neutral expression cracked, lips parting in a low groan. "Do mean girls let the good ones suck the strap they've been feeling near them all night or do they only get to play with their hands?"
"Depends on if they show them how bad they want it." Wanda could only look your way for seconds at a time, the visual of your half-lidded gaze trained on her jeans while you so obviously used your imagination to envision some other scenario, muffling your own needy sounds as you forced her fingers to the back of your throat... she'd underestimated the new girl.
Whether it was any lingering alcohol talking or whatever boldness Wanda unlocked that night, something urged you to continue goading her, making a show of spreading your legs and slipping her wet fingers to your sex before closing them once more, slowly grinding her shaking digits to sate yourself for that last tiny stretch of road to the farmhouse. "Bad enough to turn your hand into a toy for as long as you let me."
Wanda made that final turn up her driveway, parking her truck fast as she could with only one hand, "You're lucky I didn't crash just now, you little devil, can't wait to get you inside."
"Lead the way, since we're playing by your rules and all." As soon as she got her hand back, Wanda practically dragged you from her vehicle and for as many hours as you spent awake in her home, you couldn't remember a single detail of any room she brought you through that night.
When you wake up, it's to a dimly lit bedroom, curtains drawn so only a sliver of late morning sun peeked through. Your body ached, but it wasn't from the drinking, taut muscles and lethargic thoughts bringing back bits and pieces of everything you got up to the second Wanda got you past the front door.
The same Wanda whose bed you assumed you were currently sprawled out in. Doubt crept in as you realized you're alone, fretting over if you should've fallen asleep there or not. You were deciding whether it'd be more awkward to sneak out and go back to town on foot or to search out Wanda and ask if she'd mind driving you back to your place when you heard a single knock on the door. "Can I come in?"
Your brow furrowed, "It's your room, of course you can come in." Wanda cracked the door slowly, the back of her loose flannel shirt greeting you first before she turned around, a small tray in her hands. "Sorry for crashing."
"Never said you were unwelcome, I'm sorry for letting you wake up in a strange place by yourself... and for not leaving you at least a shirt, my bad." Your arms hastily bundled the blankets to cover your chest, your nakedness pointed out to you, but Wanda laughed, setting the tray down before heading for her dresser. "Don't worry, darlin, I love the view just as much in the daylight."
"What a reassuring hostess I have," Pulling the t-shirt she tossed you over your head, the delightful scents coming from the tray down the bed now catching your attention. On it was a short stack of pancakes, bacon, orange juice, strawberries... the biggest breakfast you'd seen since you'd come to town. "Did you make that?"
Wanda nodded and slid the food closer to you before sitting on the edge of her mattress, "I don't typically make this much food, but I had to get up early to make some rounds in the barn and I figured I owed you a hearty breakfast after such a nice night."
There was something so endearing to how she explained her actions, rambling on to offset her nerves, No one had even gone to such lengths to make your morning so comfortable after a single hookup, but this set the bar high for anyone else who tried. Not that you'd ever have to worry about another first night, but neither of you knew that yet.
For now Wanda scrambled to find the right way to show genuine interest in the girl she'd brought home and fucked every which way until they passed out and you amusedly ate your special pancakes while watching Wanda try, her fumbling charming you more than she'd ever imagine.
Eventually you put her out of her misery, putting down your utensils to sit up on your knees and stretch over to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. "I really appreciate it and I'm not even a bit mad with how I woke up, but it's very sweet of you to care, Wands."
"Oh good because I'd really like to see you again sometime, if you're up for it." It would be a rare thing to see Wanda so continuously shy, but she was uncharacteristically smitten and she wanted to get to know you before the rest of the small town came for their changes too.
You hummed as you popped a strawberry into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that painfully reminded Wanda of the previous night, "How's today?"
"Today?" The farmgirl ran a hand through her long hair, cocking her head to the side much like a lost puppy.
"Yeah, today. If you wouldn't mind me following along." With each minute that ticked past, the less you wanted to leave, much preferring a Sunday spent with Wanda than in your flat full of moving boxes.
Her eyes lit up, smile brighter than the sun, “Can’t complain about a beautiful girl all to myself all day!" Wanda was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to show you, from the chicken coops to the haylofts, but she forced herself to keep her cool.. on the surface at least. "Finish up breakfast and I'll find you some kind of pants."
"But I'm so cozy right here without them." Maneuvering over the last bits of food on your plate meant you more fell into Wanda's lap than sat on it, but she caught you nonetheless, tugging you down for the proper kiss she'd been waiting to share with you since early morning light. "Come back to bed with me?"
After the long sleep your energy was renewed, finally able to take Wanda into all your senses again, the taste of her lips, the subtle earthy smell from the work she'd already done that day, her strong hands settling confidently on your upper thighs... getting dressed was the last thing on either of your minds. "Wouldn't be much of a hostess if I didn't let my guest do as she pleased."
In the end, the pair of you might've set the world record for longest date from Sunday morning to when Wanda finally dropped a reluctant you back into town Wednesday afternoon.
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solalunar-eclipse · 3 months
Text
Okay. Okay, I don’t normally do this, but I’ve been wanting to do some sort of analysis post recently and the Sonadow shipper inside me grabbed me by the throat and pointed in Netflix's direction, soooooo...let’s have a look at some clips of Sonic and Shadow interacting in Sonic Prime, shall we? (Putting this under a readmore because of all the images.)
The first clip comes from this post. (I don't know how to add that particular gif to my post, or else I'd put it here too, but oh well. I'm analyzing the first one, to be specific.)
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So, we begin with Shadow walking away, saying “We’re going after Nine”.
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Sonic then reaches out to stop him (with his right hand, despite the fact that he has to reach all the way across his own body to do so, possibly suggesting that Prime!Sonic is right-handed?). This seems to be just before Shadow’s noticed, because he’s still moving forward, looking resolved now that he’s decided what to do.
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Shadow sees Sonic’s hand, and looks at it with an expression that seems…mildly irritated, but not outright angry. It’s about halfway between his “resting grumpy face” and his “actually angry face”, in my opinion.
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He looks over at Sonic himself with a slightly angrier face (mainly made evident by the fact that the point in the middle of his brow is actually touching his muzzle instead of resting above it).
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Then he looks back at Sonic’s hand again (in a pose that I swear is slightly different from the last one even if it doesn’t look that way). The only real difference is that he’s just looking down a little more. The effect of these last three images in actual motion, though, is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glance at the hand, up to Sonic, and then back to the hand. It's sort of a "huh-what-huh?!" motion, I think. To me, this gives off extremely strong “what the heck is even happening right now?!” energy.
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For completion’s sake, I’m going to finish out the rest of the gif with these last three pictures. Shadow pulls away from Sonic at this point (which, fair, Sonic did grab him out of nowhere and he’s not normally very touchy-feely although this may be disproved in the next gif), and it may or may not have felt like a small punch to the gut for me to see Sonic’s hand outstretched like that, but anyway.
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Shadow shifts into one of his patented I’m Trying To Be Cool And Aloof Despite Being An Adorable Three Foot Tall Hedgehog poses, complete with an eyeroll. He doesn’t actually seem that upset about Sonic touching him, however, I think it’s probably more the context of the situation. Shadow keeps insisting that Nine is a threat that needs to be stopped, and Sonic keeps preventing him from doing that, so his frustrated reaction seems to have much more to do with why Sonic touched him than the fact that he did so at all.
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And, least but certainly not least, a cute contemplative (and still slightly grumpy) expression from Shadow. (He’s just adorable!! Aaaaaaa—)
Now then! Let’s move onto a really, really big one…
…The Hug™.
The post that I got this clip from actually has some really good points that I’m going to discuss further, so please go read that first! It won’t take long, and also everything the OP says there is absolutely true.
Ready? Here we go! (Please excuse the slightly crunchy pictures...the only way I was able to get this level of detailed analysis was by recording the gif, scrubbing through the frames, and taking screenshots of specific moments, which naturally led to some artifacting.)
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So, what's just happened prior to this frame was Rebel Rouge saying happily, "Sonic, you're okay!". Sonic, like the goof he is, does not acknowledge this in any way, fully focused on introducing his boyfriend to his other Shatterspace pals. Instead, he's just looking over at Shadow. Notably, Shadow is instead looking up at Rebel. I'd like to think this is because Rebel has the most put-together and leader-like behavior out of the Rouge counterparts, so he could be waiting for her to continue speaking and give instructions or commentary on the situation, like she does with Team Dark in the games. That's just my take, though, he could just as well be generally on edge—he is in the middle of a battlefield, after all.
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Smear frame!! This is included for the expressions as well as for completeness…but mostly for the expressions. Look at how big Sonic's eyes are. Look at how excited he is. He's so hyped to introduce his best rival to everyone. Shadow, meanwhile, looks like he just bluescreened out of pure shock. Sonic's yanking him over so fast he's all blurry, but we can see that his expression is basically 0—0 right now. He has been Touched and he is being Moved and he has not had time to process Why.
(Notably, however, he doesn't break the hold, despite the fact that he definitely could...)
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Now, they’ve both settled into place (although ‘settled’ may be the wrong word for Shadow, haha). Sonic is doing what I can only describe as beaming—just look at him! He has a big smile on his face, and he looks almost proud to be introducing Shadow. It really shows how much Sonic values and respects him. (*sobs*) Shadow, meanwhile, has shifted from “what is happening” to “oh Chaos I am being held I am being hugged?? What??? Physical contact? Why????”. He just looks so stunned by the hug, it’s too adorable! More specifically, in addition to the obvious fact that his irises and pupils have shrunk and that he has very stiff posture, if you look very closely at the gif as well as at the following pictures, his ears are also standing up a little straighter and his quills have pushed back slightly, possibly prickling at the sudden contact? Interesting…
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Here, we can see Shadow’s ears relax now that he’s processed what’s going on, and his quills have more of a visible curve to them instead of sticking out so much. He’s also glaring off to one side in a position that could either be interpreted as frustration at his current situation (though not so much that he’s willing to push away!!) or as embarrassment. Personally, I think it’s a little of both. Sonic, meanwhile, is still smiling like the sweetheart he is.
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Now, we’re getting into the frames leading up to Sonic leaning into Shadow (aka one of the most precious moments of the show). Honestly, I don’t have too much to say about this one, except that Sonic is moving in a way that he would normally while talking right now (shifting around, because this boy has loads of energy) so I have a feeling Shadow probably doesn’t expect the cuddles that are coming his way, ehehe.
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The Smush begins!! Shadow looks like he’s quickly resigned himself to his fate, but also decently irritated that he’s essentially getting side-snuggled in front of everyone. This could’ve been another part where he shoved Sonic off himself (goodness knows he did it before in Avoid the Void), and yet he doesn’t, leading to the best part of this whole moment!
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Sonic, you smug hedgie. Shadow’s already letting you hug him, don’t push it with that smirk! Shadow does have his eyes closed here, suggesting to me that he is at least a little bit annoyed by now. Again, though, I think this has more to do with the fact that he’s essentially in front of an entire crowd, none of whom recognize or know him. I’ve seen someone else point out that Shadow gets more closed off in Prime when he’s around people aside from Sonic, so honestly, the fact that he’s putting up with this at all sure is…something. (Shipping goggles on: it could be because he appreciates Sonic’s affection enough that he’s willing to cope with the embarrassment if it means the cute annoying hedgehog next to him will hold him a little longer :] )
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Okay, so this is really difficult to see, but look at Shadow’s wrist protectors in this image as well as the last one. See how there’s less of them visible in this picture here? That’s because, as the person who posted this gif noted, Sonic moves his hand up and down Shadow’s arm twice after cuddling up to him like this. It actually moves Shadow’s entire arm and shoulder up and down with the movement, making it look a little bit like a friendly rub or shake. Sort of like “hey, look at my grumpy friend, isn’t he great?”. Meanwhile, Sonic’s still looking smug, but I’m now wondering if it’s a bit of a knowing look as well? I mean, this is the one friend of his who’s truly known him for more than a few days. I’m wondering if there’s a bit of “‘ey, Shadow, c’mon, don’t be so shy! You’re my pal!” vibes here, partially because he knows it’ll annoy Shadow and partly because he just knows how Shadow is but wants to drag him into his circle of friends regardless. (Look at how much Sonic cares about Shadow, trying to make sure he’s included! So cute!!)
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THE PAT. Two of Sonic’s fingers are lifted up here, which he then uses to give Shadow a light tap on the arm. THE AFFECTION. THE OBVIOUS CARE AND FRIENDLINESS IN THIS ONE SIMPLE ACTION. SONIC CARES ABOUT SHADOW SO OBVIOUSLY IT HURTS ME TO WATCH. MY HEART. No matter how many times Shadow puts up walls, Sonic smashes them down. After all, Shadow doesn’t get to be the only one who does things like keeping Sonic safe or helping him stay grounded! Sonic’s not going to pretend those things just didn’t happen—Shadow cares about him in his own awkward, emotionally constipated way, and Sonic is reciprocating. You can’t stop him, Shadow!
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I’m skipping the smear frame here, just because Sonic and Shadow basically pop up and right into this position. Sonic’s two fingers come out of the tap/pat and straight into the peace sign, and now he’s smiling even more than he was at the start of this whole thing. His eyes are all big and shiny too—he’s clearly very happy to have introduced Shadow, and perhaps also quite happy that he’s getting this moment of prolonged physical contact with Shadow. Now, while Shadow’s shoulder is still kind of smushed upwards, which could indicate stress in another circumstance, it seems to me here that this is mainly because Sonic’s hand is pulling it upwards slightly. (Although, I’m afraid it does appear to be the case that Sonic and Shadow are approximately the same height in Prime—remember, Shadow’s ears aren’t as perky right now as Sonic’s, and the ears are really the only height difference between them here.) Shadow’s expression, however, is honestly quite neutral. Despite his previous discomfort (part of which, I just realized, could be because Sonic essentially was pushing him off balance. Shadow was tilted pretty far to his left, which could be a little awkward of a position to be in, especially for an extended period of time), he doesn’t look bothered at all, instead just quietly existing in this situation. Most of the irritability in his expression comes from his angular eyes and his aforementioned “resting grumpy face”, honestly.
(I couldn’t find any gif that includes this next part—probably because the camera cuts away from Sonic and Shadow here for a moment to show the general confusion of the Shatterverse folks—but when it cuts back, Shadow is still standing there with Sonic’s arm around him. Heck, he looks willing to continue standing there for however long Sonic stays next to him, only pulling away when Nine comes back and makes noise, reminding everyone that we’re in the middle of a battle for everyone’s survival here. And when he does pull away, Sonic is dragged with him, which is probably mostly for laughs, but does also imply that a) he was holding onto Shadow pretty tightly and b) he wasn’t expecting to have to let go even AFTER Nine made himself known.)
This post is long enough already (and I drafted it when I could've been going to sleep, because the force of Sonadow infected me), so I won't be doing the "Shadow saves Sonic" scene just yet (unless a lot of people want to see that). For now, though, thanks for bearing with me throughout my descent into madness over these two. And if you want me to take a look at other gifs, feel free to send them my way or put them in a reblog and I'll see if I can make the time to analyze them!
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plussizefantasia · 6 months
Text
Revenge
Flufftober Day 18: Teacher AU
literature teacher!Loki Laufeyson x math teacher!reader
Word Count: 1.5k
AN: I actually love this one so much. I also just realized that we are over halfway done with Flufftober which is kind of sad. Anyway, we've got 13 more days left and I'm looking forward to the plans I have for each one. If you liked this story please reblog and I'll see y'all tomorrow.
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divider credit @royallaesthetics
You are going to kill him. You are going to murder that man. You stayed after your last class yesterday so that you would be able to draw out the problems that your students would have to solve for class today. Now, written right on top of your trigonometry diagrams were the words:
“Mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about, nor whether what we are saying is true. -Bertrand Russell”
Written in the ever so familiar scrawl of the Literature Teacher, Mr. Laufeyson. Loki was a nice guy, a great teacher, and at times, a giant pain in your ass. You have no idea how this little feud of yours got started but you are certain that it has escalated beyond what it once was.
At the start, it was just funny little jokes between the two of you. He had once stolen all of the red pens that you used to grade your student’s quizzes and when you went to go look for them, they had all been taped together in one big ball and were sitting in your “Math is Fun” mug that you kept in the teacher's lounge. That was annoying and you also had no real way of knowing who had done it. Until he had brought it up the next day and asked how grading had gone.
You had retaliated by going in early the next morning and moving all of the furniture in his classroom an inch to the left. It had thrown him off just enough that he had tripped on his rug during a lecture and faceplanted. All of your students were talking about it two periods later when they arrived in your class and you were all smiles for the rest of the day.
So far, there has not been any lasting damage, and all of your coworkers find it more amusing than annoying which is a good thing because neither of you wanted to get the administration involved. 
You were not amused by the board graffiti you had found when you came in your class this morning, and while you were re-drawing the problems he had ruined you were thinking of how you could get back to him later that day.
Your plans for revenge had to be put on the back burner as students started filing into your classroom. Half of them looked so tired that you genuinely thought they might fall asleep at their desks and the others looked entirely too frazzled for 7:30 in the morning.
It wasn’t until after you had had your lunch break that an idea had come to you about a way to get back at Loki. You grabbed the pile of graded quizzes from your desk, ones that you were able to grade in red pen thank you very much, and started making your way upstairs to where Mr. Laufeyson’s class was located.
You knew that he was teaching his British Literature elective right now, as it was fifth period. You also knew that most of the kids in that class were also in your Calculus class at the end of the day.
You didn’t wait for very long before pulling open the door to his classroom and waltzing right in with a smirk across your face.
“Good Afternoon Mr. Laufeysoon, pardon the interruption but I have some quizzes I need to give back to some students ASAP.” Without waiting for a response you began walking up and down the rows of desks in his class passing out the graded quizzes to your very amused students. You noticed that he had stopped talking when you had walked into the room and hadn’t started up again. “Go ahead,” you had told him, “don’t want to waste valuable teaching time.” You continued to pass out the papers, all while trying to not burst out laughing at the look on his face.
“Um, yes right. Well as I was saying. Shakespeare was a minor god of his time. His ability to-”
“Hey Derek, I wanted to talk to you about this question that you got wrong, would you be able to stay a little bit after our class to talk about it.” You sent a small wink to Derek and put a finger to your mouth to indicate that he shouldn’t say anything. “I just don’t want to waste any class time going over it today, we have a lot to cover.” Derek just nodded and you could see his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.
“Are you done?” Loki asked, slanting his hips to one side and placing the hand not holding his open book on them. “Because I have a class to be teaching right now.” He lifted his eyebrows and you acquiesced. You wanted to mess with him, not ruin his whole class plan for that day.
“Yes, I’m done. Thank you for letting me hand those out.” You smiled sweetly at him and began walking back out of his room. Just barely hearing his mutter of “I didn’t let you do anything.” As you passed by him.
Mission accomplished you headed back down to your classroom and started gathering up the things you would need to teach the next period. You didn’t expect that he would have the time to be able to get you back today. But you were for sure expecting some kind of retaliation the next day.
It wasn’t until your last period that you were proven wrong. Everything seemed normal, your students filled in slightly ansty as it was the last period and everyone was ready to go home. They all pulled out their work and started on the problems you had written on the board. 
It wasn’t until you started calling on them that you realized what you had opened yourself up to.
You called on Derek first, he was one of the more academically inclined students you had but he was shy about answering in front of the class. You knew he had gotten the answer right, you had looked at his work before you called them all back to focus. But what you weren't expecting was for him to give you his answer in eh most god-awful British accent you had ever heard.
“I doth believeth that the answer to this problemeth is 42.3”. You were baffled. You had no idea what was going on and the fact that Derek had said all this with such a straight face made you think you were having some kind of hallucination episode in the middle of class. But instead of mentioning it you just decided to move on.
“Oh-kay. Um… Samantha what did you get for number 2.”
Again you were met with an awful accent and weird olde- english phrasing.
“Yes, Madame, the answereth I haveth arrived at was X equaleth 110”.
Now that you knew you weren’t just having a breakdown and something was actually happening you didn’t hold yourself back.
“What is happening right now? I don’t- why are you guys being so weird.”
You were met with utter silence, which was rare in your classroom of 23 teenagers. But you didn’t move on. You stared each of them down, focusing a little harder on trying to get the weak ones to crack. Finally, it was Abigail who let the cat out of the bag. She was sweet, but notoriously bad at keeping secrets.
“Mr. Laufeyson said he would give five bonus points to anyone who used a bad accent in your class today.” She let out in all one breath, “More points if you spoke like someone out of Shakespeare.”
You ran your tongue across the front of your teeth. “Did he?” You let out a sort of incredulous laugh and shook your head a little. “Well then, bonus points on the next quiz to whoever can steal the marble apple off his desk and bring it to me tomorrow.” Your students all began to laugh a little bit and some had a look of extreme determination across their faces at your words.
Your class continued sans silly accents and you sent your students home for the day without any homework. As you started cleaning up your desk, putting your laptop in your bag, and grabbing your sweater off the back of your chair you were interrupted by the voice of your arch-nemesis.
“You are positively wicked.” Loki was leaning up against the frame of the door to your classroom, his jacket also on his arm and his messenger bag slung across his shoulders.
“You started it with the Russell quote on my board. You knew how much time I put into drawing those problems.”
“Admit it, it made you smile when you saw it.” He began to cross across the room towards your desk,
“Maybe, but what really almost made me lose it laughing was Samantha’s horrible British accent.” You looked up at him and let out a small laugh at the memory. “So maybe, Mr. Laufeyson, you are the wicked one.”
“I might be, Mrs. Laufeyson but you were the one who married me.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” You chuckled once again and leaned up to place a kiss upon your husband’s lips.
“May I ask what plans you have concocted to get back at me tomorrow Darling?” He asked.
“You’ll just have to wait and see for yourself tomorrow, Love.”
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stuniolvs · 3 months
Note
Heyy I came across your page and I have a request can you do like one where Chris is dating Y/N but they get it a fight and Chris makes it up to her (Smut or not idc)
arguments + cats
hey! thank you for your request but this is a little different from your request but it still follows the same line. i hope you enjoy and please leave more requests!
chris has his license in this!
the second chris woke up he felt like shit.
his head was pounding and his nose was stuffy and you weren’t next to him.
he reluctantly rolled out of bed and changed into actual clothes because he had to go to 5 different meetings today, 2 for his and his brother's channel, 2 for his personal brand, and one for the podcast. which meant he also wouldn’t see you all day.
when he walked into the kitchen he noticed it was a mess which immediately added onto his stress levels so he began cleaning up everything and about halfway through cleaning his body starts aching from whatever sickness he had but her continued anyway.
he wakes up his brothers and they go on their way.
the first two meetings went good but when it came to the ones for his brand everything went to shit. they we bombarding him with all this information and he didn’t understand what any of it meant and when he tried asking questions they would just cut him off.
he left his fourth meeting with his shoulders slouched feeling a million times worse.
matt drives him and nick to their last meeting and they all go in.
chris is silent for the whole meeting, zoned out almost feeling like he was going to pass out.
they leave the final meeting and chris immediately rushes into his room. pulling open his computer and starts brainstorming ideas for his brand.
you were so exited to see chris after not seeing him for over 24 hours so you enter the triplets shared house with a smile on your face.
“hey y/n just so you know chris is acting really weird i this he’s sick or something but just warning you.” nick tells me from the couch. i grow concerned as i nod.
i walk down to chris’ room and i open the door seeing him sitting at his desk typing aggressively. “hey baby, what’s-"
“god can you just shut the fuck up! im trying to focus and all you ever do is talk! get away from me!”
you finally take a look at his appearance. his nose is red, his hair is pulled in every direction and his eyes are bloodshot and glossed over.
you turn around and exit his room your eyes filling with tears as you leave his house.
“fuck” chris whispers as tears fill his eyes. he doesn’t even know why he just yelled. but all the stress from today built up behind a dam and it had suddenly burst the second he saw the one thing he needed.
he sits up quickly making him dizzy he grips onto the edge of his desk. grabbing the minivan keys and leaving the house.
he stops at the flower stand he regularly visits and picks up a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
he drives to your apartment and knocks at the door. a couple seconds later you open the door wearing his t-shirt and shorts.
he immediately start “i'm so sorry ma. i’ve had a very stressful day and i think im sick. and i wanted to see you all day and the second i saw you i took it out on you. im-“ you cut him off “chris, baby its okay i know you weren’t actually mad next time can you just talk to me please?” you reply “i promise” he says handing you the flowers, you blush and walk further into your apartment putting the flowers in a vase. chris picks up your cat (who hates him but he loves her)
“can we go back to your place i hate it here?” “sure, im taking the cat tho.” he replies taking the cat down to his car, you following behind.
“will you drive? i feel dizzy.” he asks “sure baby lean your seat back” he kisses your cheek. you drive back to his place but before you exit the car he asks “will you move in with me? i wanna wake up to you next to me in the morning.” he turns to you “of course. can my cat come?"
“yes ma. the cat can come."
chris rushes out of the car, into his house, up the stairs "meet y'all’s new roommate!” he shouts to his brothers holding up your cat.
“chris.” you roll your eyes at him “this is exactly why she hates you."
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abiiors · 8 months
Text
three's a party 🍸// george daniel x reader x ross macdonald
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a/n: hi. thank you so much to my darlings @bookish-strawberry and @ughgoaway for helping me with some of the scenes!!! this is quite tame compared to some of the others i read for "research" but it is still quite...porny. this note is so long, but i'm just rambling because i'm nervous!!! anyway, here, have this unholy piece of writing with barely any plot
cw: threesome (obv), "good girl" and other feminine words/pronouns, uhhhh...yeah, just. general nastiness.
wc: 3.6k
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the pub lights are dim, ambient. people chatter around you in low volume, a friendly humdrum of couples out on date nights and old friends catching up, it’s nice—this place. the food is good, the alcohol is even better; the playlist is just the right mix of sensual and exciting. absolutely perfect for a casual first date.
except for the man in front of you who drones on and on and on about one thing or the other—none of which you have given two shits about in your entire existence. but now you have to sit there and pretend that the local football team—the bulls or the foxes or some other inane animal—are the most riveting conversation you’ve ever had. 
you also have to pretend like you haven’t been checking out other people sitting at the bar, laughing and joking and having way more fun than you in general—the group of drunk girls out on a friday night, couples on dates, two men sat at the edge of the bar who haven't stopped glancing your way since you first walked in.
a blond and a brunet, one with a sharp, clean-shaven face, the other with a softer face and a thick, dark beard. one with close-cropped and buzzed hair, the other with long hair tied up. two ends of the spectrum, yet they both have the same aura of je ne sais quoi about them. it’s tempting, distracting. and certainly a million times better than whatever’s happening in front of you. 
every time one of them looks over at you, you lower your eyes coyly, pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with your date—nodding along to whatever he’s saying and laughing when he pauses expectantly. it’s truly a testament to his intelligence that he hasn’t caught up to your little game yet. 
the blond man looks at you again, intense eyes and a full pink mouth. his eyes linger, lazily staring you from head to toe in your tight black first-date dress. then out the corner of your eye, you watch him mumble something to his friend. 
he’s a bit subtle, turning only slightly and checking you out from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn’t get caught every time you look over in their general direction. 
your date clears his throat. 
“so i was thinking we could get one more drink and…take this back to my place?” 
well… shit
“i had a lot of fun…” you begin, trying to hide the wince in your words but your date’s face falls as realisation finally dawns. “but i don’t—”
“so you’ve wasted my time then,” he cuts you off, nostrils flaring in anger as he clutches his beer pint harder than necessary. 
“excuse me?”
“bitch,” he spits under his breath yet you hear it clearly. 
all you can do is roll your eyes at his petulance. the glasses clatter as he stands up abruptly, gathering the attention of a few people nearby. you’re beyond feeling any sort of embarrassment; and why should you? it’s not you making a scene. 
“classy,” you mutter, taking a leisurely sip of your aperol spritz.
it’s great, no reason for you to ruin a perfectly good evening for a little bitch baby. in your peripheral vision, the two men snicker. the rational part of your brain knows they’re laughing at an inside joke; nothing to do with you. but your delusional brain can’t stop imagining the two of them listening in on your conversation, smirking at your date’s little temper tantrum. you take your own sweet time finishing your drink after he leaves. he’s already out of your mind before he’s even halfway across the pub. you can finally indulge in your other pursuits after all.
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“well, that was a pathetic date."
it's after fifteen minutes when you've sought solace in the first floor balcony of the pub. a few people loiter in the nooks and corners, making out and sneaking quick puffs of cigarettes, some wait for their turn to use the loo. some linger in search of peace.
you focus your attention on the stranger.
his voice is deep, deeper than you would have imagined. there’s a gravelly and rough edge to it that makes his words skitter down your bones. even just the way he walks towards you, slow and leisurely, has you hypnotised and transfixed on him. but you won’t be swayed so easily. 
“are you always this straightforward with strangers?” 
he comes to a stop a few inches away from you and leans against the railing; his body mirroring yours. his spicy cologne permeates the air around you. it's a struggle to not inhale sharply and get a lungful of it. even in your heels, you’re a good few inches shorter than him. 
“no,” he shrugs and the movement makes his arm brush against yours ever so slightly, “i guess you caught my eye.”
you attribute the goosebumps on your arms to the chilly night air even as a small voice in your head reminds you that it’s august. 
“george,” he extends a hand. it’s big, rough-looking with callouses all over his palms. either he’s a gym rat with pretty show muscles, or… you can’t exactly place the or. but it leads to quite a few interesting theories. 
“your…friend didn’t come out with you?” 
the man—george—raises an eyebrow, either at the way you leave his hand hanging in mid-air or at the mention of his friend but he does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. if he even felt any, to begin with.
“why? you’re more interested in my friend?”
a small part of you almost purrs in delight at the tinge of jealousy in his tone. good, possessive men know how to make nights like these into memorable ones. his fingers curl slightly, ready to put the extended hand down. the nicotine stains on them should have put you off a long time ago. instead, you find yourself looking at those fingers; imagining things you really shouldn’t. 
“you always answer questions with more questions?” you bite your bottom lip, letting just the hint of a smile ghost over your mouth. let him work to figure out your tone. your intentions.  
george chuckles deeply, sucking air between his teeth, and about to say something when you hear the second set of footsteps. these are imperceptibly heavier, almost like you know who it is…
a smirk curls up your mouth as george turns around to look at—
“ross…” he says quietly. 
possessive men know how to have wild nights.
possessive men are also…incredibly easy to predict.
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george is behind you, pressed up against your naked ass, hard and thick. the only thing that separates you are his cotton brief. it only took you fifteen minutes to decide to take both the men home with you. and judging from the minimum resistance you got from either of them, one thing is clear—this isn’t their first rodeo.
“you feel this, darling?,” george whispers, mouth brushing over the shell of your ear while rolling your nipple softly between his fingers. 
it’s a lot of stimulation. it’s the good kind of stimulation, the kind that has your toes curling and your thighs shaking. and if it weren’t for the other man kneeling between your legs, holding you up with his hand on your hips, you would have fallen to your knees a long time ago. 
“mm–yes, fuck, it feels good,” you moan, head rolling back to rest against george’s chest. your fingers are tangled up in ross’ hair, long graceful fingers twisting and turning traces of his soft hair between them, guiding him as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re nothing but a wet trembling mess. 
ross won’t be outdone so easily. he hums against you, sending vibrations that shoot through your entire body at lightning speed. “is he making you feel better than i am, baby?” he pouts, stopping entirely. 
his beard glistens in the ambient lights of the room as he stares at you with intense, blown-out eyes. a whine escapes you, your fingers tighten in his hair—tugging at it harshly and making him groan. it’s so close to your cunt, enough for you feel it but not close enough. you writhe against george, trying to thrust your hips back into ross’ face, trying to get him to continue. but george tsks. 
“not before you answer him, baby.” his fingers are back to pinching your nipples; pain and pleasure blending in together in a heady mix. “don’t we deserve to know?”
his voice is gruffer than before, barely restrained—a man so used to commanding people that it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. 
ross smirks when you mumble something incoherently, ready to finish what he started but george is not satisfied. “use your words, darling.”
it sends a spark of desperate annoyance through you, clearing the fog in your brain. “ross is better,” you grit out, guiding the man back between your legs smirking at the way george tenses behind you. 
for someone who seems so calm and composed he certainly has a competitive streak…
ross grazes his teeth against you, licking it after—almost like a reward for declaring him the winner. you throw a leg over his shoulder, hissing at the way his tongue has better access now, crying out when he swipes his fingers against your folds almost lazily. 
you suck in a sharp breath, ready to cry out again but the scream dies in your throat. rather, it’s strangled—literally—by george wrapping his free hand around it, applying pressure to the sides. 
“you want to be a brat?” he tsks again, “she wants to be a brat, ross.” 
ross laughs breathlessly, letting go of you for just a second, “you’re just a sore loser.” he smirks, eyes alight with mirth. there’s a hint of danger in them, not the kind you sense in george—one that comes with a touch of sadism. ross’ brand of danger feels more arrogant. someone who knows what effect he has on people, on women. he’s not a taker. he’s a giver. and right now, he looks at you like he’d give anything to watch you fall apart with his name on your lips. 
the almost lack of oxygen has your head spinning, combined with the knot pulled taut in your stomach—it’s almost impossible to stand up, to make your legs hold you up. but that’s what george is here for. 
his fingers adapt a rougher pace, pinching and flicking your nipples, matching ross’s movements. your mind feels like it’s torn both ways, fighting hard to keep track of two sensations, two feelings. it’s too much.
a string of curses fall from your lips. “gonna cum,” you plead, struggling against ross, desperately trying to get more and more and so much more. “can i cum, please. please–fuck.”
“what should we do, george?” ross hums, ignoring you entirely. his nails dig into your ass, feeling up the curves and the firm muscles. you are nothing but a toy in his hands, for him to use and control. all your bossiness from before melts away as soon as george snakes a hand around your waist, stroking ross’ head and guiding it the way he wants to. 
ross doesn’t resist, he only chuckles, making you cry out pleas once again. 
“have you earned it, sweetheart?” george asks, whispery rough voice burrowing on the insides of your skull. 
have you? 
you nod, or try to at least. it’s hard when your head rests limply on his chest, throat gripped between his hands. 
“please, yes. i’ll do what you want, pl–fuck, fuck.”
“whatever we want?” 
“whatever yo–you want.”
“go on then,” george pinches your nipple, twisting it between his fingers, “give him a taste.”
he’s barely halfway through the sentence when you scream out incoherently, falling apart as waves after waves of pleasure hit you all at once. everything goes white for a split second, all that remains is intoxicating pleasure. you have no sense of time, of self. only that one man holds you up as the other laps at your folds greedily, licking away every last drop of what you have to offer. 
“want a taste?” ross smirks. his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere under water. you’re unsure if you can stand up on your own just yet. vestiges of the orgasm course through you, heady and hot. “she’s fucking sweet, george, like honey.”
ross stands up, right in front of you, tall and imposing. and for the first time, you’re between both of them, feeling their sweaty skin on yours, inhaling them greedily.
“open your mouth,” he commands, fingers taking hold of your chin and roughly tilting it up. you know what’s coming as you watch the sinister half-smile on his face. and oh how delightlfully right you are. 
the moment you open your mouth for him, ross spits in it; saliva mixed with your slick still coating his tongue. 
“good girl,” he whispers, turning your face to george who captures your mouth in a rough kiss. his tongue flicks on the insides of your mouth, searching, tasting you and ross together. he moans, satisfied. “now about that promise…”
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“be a good girl and get on all fours” 
it’s a shock to you how ross takes charge when he wants to. george doesn’t contradict him, he only watches with vague amusement as you try holding yourself up on shaking arms and legs, drenched in sweat and thighs sticky with your own slick. 
your entire body buzzes with adrenaline, shivers racking down your spine, still needy for more and more, still wanting to please the men who have been pleasing you for… what feels like hours now. 
“now,” george says, walking up to you and stopping just in front of you, “you can take both of us, can’t you?”
you peer up at george, tall and imposing george who looks at you with such blatant lust that it makes a tiny moan slip out of you. you can, you have been dying to do just that. now you look at him through your eyelashes and through the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, falling in your eyes. 
“yes,” you nod eagerly, “please, yes.” 
the men smile, all teeth and hardness and intensity—it’s intoxicating. almost hypnotising, you get on your knees, hand drifting between your legs one more time just to feel the friction again but ross is quicker. 
“ah–ah!” he quickly catches your wrist, before it’s even reached past your navel. “that’s our job, darling. all you need to do is get on all fours and look pretty.”
“but she already is so pretty,” george tsks, palming himself through his briefs. his cock is a stark, thick outline that stands out, making you drool. if he already looks so big and delicious then how good would it be to feel him on your tongue and stretching out your mouth?
the moment stretches on—you on all fours, on trembling, shaky limbs, waiting there like a good little slut for either one of these men to fill you up. 
george continues to play with himself, fingers dipping in and out of the waistband of his underwear, touching and teasing. until finally he pulls his boxers down. you watch, transfixed as george shamelessly pumps himself in front of you, head thrown back, throaty moans echoing in the room as he slides his fist around his cock. you stare, eager and waiting, almost leaning forward. 
behind you, ross is silent. you can almost imagine him staring at the scene in front of him in awe and lust. you try to imagine it from his perspective. your dripping swollen cunt right in front of him growing wetter still the more you watch george. 
“don’t tease,” you almost whine, unable to take more of this. you need to know what he tastes like. and you need it now. 
“eager, are we?” george asks, walking up to you. “are you not pleasing her enough, ross?” he tuts and ross chuckles; throaty and distracted. 
you get little warning before you feel ross sliding a finger up your slit, lazily collecting your wetness and then the tell-tale sound of his tongue lapping it up from his fingers. it’s filthy and disgusting, it makes you arch your back and drives you almost crazy with want. 
“i could do better than your hand.” your grin matches george’s who comes to a stop in front of you. 
“guess she likes me better, ross.”
ross huffs, “we’ll see.”
before you have the chance to respond, ross draws a hiss of pleasure out of you. his length drags against your cunt, almost between your ass cheeks, sliding just the tip in. no further. red, hot need spears through you. if the men are determined to tease and taunt you then it’s for you to take matters into your own hands. 
before george can registers it, you cup a hand around his ass, pulling him forward until his cock practically rests on your face. 
a thick vein runs along the side, pulsating, practically inviting you to trace it with your sharp fingernail. you let your tongue swirl over his slit, humming at the salty taste of his precum. george moans as the vibrations of your hum hit. ross moves his hips slowly, almost pulling out before slamming into you fully. the force of it has you choking on george, gagging around him, drooling messily. 
“breathe,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do as he tells you, relaxing your throat more and letting his weight rest on your tongue. 
the sides of your mouth burn from the stretch, black, glittery mascara tears stain your face. and yet all you care about is this, here, now. it’s fullness like you’ve never experienced before, delicious and thick, drawing out gasps and moans from you that mix with his grunts.
“such a perfect girl,” he coos, “isn’t she ross? doesn’t she feel fucking great?” 
ross hums behind you, thrusting into you again at a steady pace. shameless need and lust pools in your belly, bleeds through your veins as you trace along george’s cock with your tongue. his fingers remain tangled in your hair, guiding you, commanding you to please him as he wishes.
you hollow our your cheeks, licking and sucking until his hips move in much the same pace as ross’ do. 
ross’ hand snakes up your waist, between your legs again, finding your clit again to rub and pinch, to make you whine. each one of his flicks makes you moan around george, sending small hums of pleasure right up his spine. he looks blissed out, head rolling and eyes half-lidded. a surge of pride runs through you at the sight. 
ross’ fingers dig into your hips, bruising the soft flesh. twinges of pain intertwine with sparks of pleasure as he pushes in, stretching you out and filling you in. 
“taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praises. the term of endearment from his mouth makes your knees weak and your legs tremble but ross holds you up, slamming into you until he bottoms out again and again. 
flesh slaps against flesh—rhythmic sounds punctuated by guttural grunts. the position you’re in allows ross to thrust deeper each time, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have had you mewling by now. but that doesn’t mean you don’t let out the occasional whimpers as you continue to bob your head up and down george’s dick. 
the man is close, you can tell. his cock twitches and spasms in your mouth. he has lost some of his rhythm, hips bucking wildly as he chases his pleasure. you can’t help but caress the base of his cock with your hand, moving it lower to softly squeeze his balls. 
“shit–shit,” he curses loudly, “do that again.”
so you oblige, letting your nails graze on the sensitive skin. within seconds, you feel his hold tightening in your hair. george fucks your mouth with wild abandon, careless thrusts—he couldn't care less about the drool dribbling down your chin, about your tear-stained face. the burn around your lips.
“gonna cum, darling, doing so well,” he grounds out. your own body mirrors the feelings as ross continues to thrust faster and faster. 
the knot in your stomach tightens, blood pumps through your veins, infused with lightning until the bitter-salty taste of cum fills your mouth. george cums, groaning loudly and shooting spurts of his release down your throat that you lap up hungrily. some of it dribbles down the side of your chin but you don’t swallow just yet. instead, you open your mouth wide open for him to have a look. 
“you’re killing me,” he swears, trying to get a grip on himself. only then do you swallow, whining loudly when ross pinches your clit, kneading the bundle of nerves in rough circles. 
“go on,” he commands, “cum for us. wanna feel you around me before i fill you up.”
it only takes one more thrust from ross before you’re almost falling down face first from the force of the orgasm that hits you. vaguely you’re aware of ross cumming inside you, of it spilling down your thighs, mixing with your own release. vaguely you’re aware of george falling to his knees in front of you, legs still spasming as he watches you fall apart again and again. 
you cry out something unintelligent—perhaps their names, perhaps something else. the world blacks out, until slow, blurred images creep back into your line of sight. 
the beginning of the night, the pathetic date is long gone from your mind. right now all you can think of is ecstacy.
and then perhaps a round two.
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Forced Proximity
In honour of the FnaF movie coming out, I wanted to write something. I was inspired by a cosplay video by astrocadet on TikTok and that video's comments section, so credit to them!
When does this happen in the timeline? Who knows. Which pizzeria is the reader working at? Why is Michael called Michael and not one of his (possible) aliases? What year is this happening in? Why does the timeline for this game make no sense? These aren't important questions right now. Also yes, I'm using Michael's in-game sprite for the picture; you can picture him however you want. Hope you like the fanfic!
Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's
Characters: Michael Afton x day shift! gn! Reader
Word count: 2.1k (2,122 words)
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When you realise you left your bag at work, you don't think much of it at first. But when you remember your keys are in said bag, you have no choice but to go back to Freddy Fazbear's. But your co-worker, the night guard is acting strange and when you get stuck in the office together, who knows what will happen?
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"Damn." You rested your head against the steering wheel. Of course you forgot your bag. And of course your house keys were in your bag.
Why you hadn't just put your car keys with your bag instead of in the key bowl at work, you had no idea. If you'd just done what you always do and put all of your stuff together, you wouldn't be sitting outside your house with no way of getting in.
You really needed to stop procrastinating and get that spare key made.
But, for now, there was nothing to do but drive twenty minutes back to Freddy Fazbear's and get your keys.
You turned the car back on and began driving back to your place of occupation. Why were you working at Freddy Fazbear's? After everything you'd read about it in the newspapers, you weren't really sure. The pay wasn't bad, but you knew you could get a better job. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity that held you there. Maybe if you hung around long enough, you'd find out what had happened to all those missing kids.
You'd never been in the pizzeria after hours. You knew there was a night guard but beyond talking a few times at staff meetings and the one Christmas party that had been held, you didn't really know much about him. Michael. You were pretty sure that was his name. He was sort of cute in a "crush on the guy on the bus" kind of way.
The drive passed faster than you thought, your mind filled with thoughts of work and your co-worker. Before you realized it, you were pulling into the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear's. The lights were off inside, and the doors were locked. You knew, you'd locked them yourself before leaving. Of course you had keys for the pizzeria and not your own house.
You locked your car and walked to the door. This place was way creepier at night-time. You'd have to try harder to remember your keys so you could avoid a repeat of this, no matter how cute your co-worker was.
The key turned with a loud clunk. you heard it echo off the concrete walls and linoleum floors. You pushed the door open. The room inside was dark, the only light reflecting off the security cameras in the corners of the room.
Thankfully, you knew your way around the place well enough that you could make your way around in the low lighting. But you could feel the hairs standing up on the back of your neck. Something felt off.
You stepped into the staff room and quickly found your bag where you had left it. You opened it and ran a hand through the contents. You’d be damned if your keys weren’t in there. But no, your keys were exactly where you thought they would be, in the inside pocket next to your staff id.
You closed your bag again and turned to leave. But halfway across the room you heard a loud thud from somewhere in the building. You jumped.
Could it be intruders? What was the security guard doing not patrolling the halls? You stood, locked in place. You knew you should just leave. You weren’t even supposed to be here. And it was already about 1 o’clock and you had the opening shift which started at 6. You were barely going to get 4 hours of sleep if you left right now.
But some strange duty of care made you stop. It wouldn’t hurt to just have a quick look around, or at least check in on the security guard. Maybe he was asleep? You sighed. Who needed sleep anyway?
You made your way through the halls, your shoes squeaking ever so slightly against the plastic lined floors. The noise seemed especially loud in the oppressive silence.
Suddenly a bright light flashed across your eyes from somewhere to your right. You stepped back, trying to shield your face.
“Oh my god, it’s just you.”
You lowered your hand as the light dropped to the floor. After the glare, the room in front of you seemed even darker than it should have. You could barely make out the figure inside, but you knew from the voice that it was your co-worker. Michael.
“Hey,” You tried for a calm greeting but the shake in your voice made it sound anything but, “Sorry, I left my bag here and-”
“Get in here.” You felt Michael grab your arm and pull you into the small security office. You began to protest at the rough treatment, but Michael shushed you before you could say anything. He pressed a button behind you and the door you’d just been pulled through closed with a metallic clank.
Your eyes now adjusted to the dim light, you shot Michael a questioning look. He ignored you, looking at the footage being shown on the television sitting on the table in front of him. Then, he pressed the button again and the door opened.
He leant back in his chair. “Sorry about that. You just needed to…uh…you being in the hallways would have messed with my check in on the rooms. Might have thought you were an intruder or something.”
His excuse seemed feeble and he looked like he knew it. He tried for what you assumed was meant to be a welcoming smile but instead came across as forced. “So, what are you doing here?”
“Like I was saying before I got pulled in here, I left my bag. And my keys. So I had to come back before I could get into my house.”
Michael’s eyes darted towards the screen, then to the clock. You followed his gaze. Already 2am. Time sure was passing quickly tonight. You were starting to give up on the idea of getting any sleep. Maybe you’d just have sleep in your car and then have a nap during your lunch break. You began backing towards the door.
“Well, I should go, let you get back to your work-”
“No! I mean…” Michael cleared his throat, “uh, you can’t leave right now. It’s not safe.”
You raised an eyebrow. “No safe?”
Michael nodded, eyes again darting to the screen.
“And why is it not safe? I made it here didn’t I?”
A pause. Then Michael sighed. “I don’t really know how to explain it without sounding like I’m crazy.”
You were pretty sure that ship had long since sailed. There was no way this guy was fit to be a night security guard. Or at the very least, being alone in this place every night was starting to get to him.
Michael beckoned you forward. You took a tentative step. He pressed the button again and the door closed once more. You were getting more and more concerned. Was this just a set up? Were you going to show up on the news tomorrow, the latest victim of a serial killer who was hiding as the security guard at Freddy Fazbear’s?
But then Michael pointed at the screen, you leant forward, trying to see the room clearly through the grainy footage. It was the hallway on the other side of the door. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then a figure ran down the hallway. You could hear metal clanging as the figure passed the door, before the noise faded into the distance.
Michael pressed the button and the door opened.
“Why are you opening the door?” Your voice was shriller than you would have liked.
"We can’t use too much power."
"What do you mean we can’t use too much power?"
"This place only has a limited amount of power available each night. I have to be careful how I use it." Michael pointed to the green bar at the bottom of the screen. The words above it read “power remaining: 50%”.
“And what was that thing?” You could feel yourself beginning to shake. Shock was setting in fast that you’d expected.
“Foxy.”
You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “Foxy? You’re telling me that was Foxy? The animatronic from Pirate’s Cove? The one that gets shut down every night before we close up? The one that couldn’t be running down the hall because that’s not in its code?”
Michael nodded.
“Uh huh. And you want me to think you’re not crazy?”
Michael sighed. “It gets worse believe me.”
“Oh really?” You could hear the hysteria creeping into your voice. Because if that really was Foxy, you sure didn’t want to be in this building anymore. “Go on. Tell me how it gets worse.”
“The animatronics are possessed by the ghosts of the missing children.”
Silence.
“So the kids are dead?” You couldn’t believe that was what you were focusing on.
Michael nodded sombrely. You ran a hand over your face. Either this guy really was crazy, or he was telling the truth. No one in their right mind would joke about dead kids like this.
“And I can’t leave?”
Michael shook his head. “Not unless you want one of the animatronics to get you. We used to have more security guards you know.” From the haunted look in his eyes, you guessed he was telling the truth.
You took a shaky breath. “If I find out this was just an elaborate prank, I’m reporting you to management.”
Michael gave a weak smile. “I wish that was the case.”
You glanced at the clock. Just past 2am. Michael followed your gaze. “We only have to make it until 6. Then everything stops.”
“Only four more hours huh?” A question suddenly occurred to you, “Why do you still work here? You do this every night?”
“Let’s just say I have history with this place.” Michael’s expression was tight, “I can’t quit just yet.” You could tell he wouldn't say any more.
"I guess we just have to make it through the night then."
~
The evening passed quickly, Michael focusing on keeping the animatronics out and you trying to keep your fear at bay.
The clock now displayed 5am. But it had only showed the hours, not minutes so you had no idea how close it was to 6am and freedom.
You glanced across to Michael. He seemed more frantic than earlier in the night.
"Sorry, I don't think we're getting through tonight."
Your stomach dropped at his words and your eyes flicked over the power bar: only 1% left.
"We might still make it."
But before Michael could reply, the lights turned off with a loud clunk and the whirring of some machine turning off.
You smothered a scream and felt around until you found Michael's shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him and felt him hug you back.
"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and you could hear it shaking.
You tried to calm your breathing, though it was getting increasingly hard. "You did your best."
A loud clanging noise echoed down the corridor outside.
"Just in case we die, I always thought you were cute."
You could hardly believe it. Now you were getting a confession? Just as you were about to die? "Really?"
"Yeah."
"I've had a crush on you since my first day here."
"Guess we were a little late with figuring out our feelings."
The clanging grew louder until it sounded like it was just outside the door. The percent of power ticked lower.
Michael hugged you closer, pressing his face into the top of your head. "I'm sorry."
Suddenly, a bell chimed, playing Westminster Quarters as the sound of children cheering played over the speakers. You jumped at the sudden noise, clinging closer to Michael, your eyes squeezing shut.
So you were surprised to hear him laugh, short and almost hysterical. "We did it. We did it!"
You opened your eyes cautiously and saw, on the camera monitor in large white letters "6 am", pixilated confetti floating down the screen.
"So we're alive?" You could barely believe it.
Michael nodded, smiling at you. "The animatronics stop after six so we're fine."
You began laughing. "Oh my god, I thought we were going to die." A thought suddenly occurred to you, "Did you really confess to me when you thought we were both about to die?"
Michael winced. "I was almost hoping you'd forget." Then he blinked, "But you said you liked me as well?"
You felt your face heat up. "Yeah, I guess I did..."
"Well I guess there's only one thing to do about that. Can I take you out this weekend? I'll be off and I know you're not working."
You smiled, nodding. "That sounds nice."
But you figured you'd better clarify one thing.
"As long as it's not a pizza date."
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Crimson Lace (Part 3)
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fem!reader
Summary: You have trouble placing a finger on where you know him from, until he invites you in
Warnings: nothing except pure fluff! (saving the dirty stuff for later)
A/n: We are most definitely calling Danny a brother in this so istg if there are any Danny antis, back the fuck off. Please and thank you. Also I'm sorry that this one is shorter than the previous parts but I've struggled writing this one.
Throughout the whole night, messages between you and Jake seemed to never stop. You had learnt that he was born in Michigan, has four siblings, one of which is his twin.
It had reached 4am when you felt your body start to protest against the lack of sleep. You could feel your eyes burning slightly and you reluctantly started your goodnight message.
You: i hate to stop our conversation but i can feel myself about to fall asleep Jake: getting bored of me that quickly, huh?
You smiled at the message and rolled your eyes before responding.
You: we have lectures tomorrow and i'm not up for letting u copy my notes Jake: i would never! but in all seriousness, i'm starting to feel the burn as well You: i'll see u in the morning jake Jake: sleep tight, angel
You plugged your phone on to charge and allowed your mind to switch off and slip into a state of unconsciousness.
The next morning, you were actually happy to get up and go to classes for once . The thought of seeing Jake filled your heart with joy and slight nervousness. Jumping out of bed, you shivered at the slight chill in your room and you decided to get in the shower before heading to your first lecture.
You got into the lecture with enough time to spare , setting up all of your things and smiling to yourself. Suddenly, while you're lost in thought, Jake jumps at you, causing you to let a a small yelp and nearly fall off the seat. He laughs loudly and quickly apologises when he sees your glare.
"I couldn't help it" he says shrugging and sits down next to you. He hands you a takeaway cup, sealed with a lid. You frown at him as you take it and put it down on your desk to take the lid off and look at it.
"I thought you'd appreciate it" he said and you nod and look around before quickly kissing his cheek.
"Thank you" you replied quietly, and you spot a red tint on his cheeks. You use the cup to warm up your cold hands while you watch Jake fondly, as he unpacks his bag as well.
"You may not be proud to know that I forgot my charger again and I didn't charge my laptop last night" he said cautiously but with a smile on his face and you rolled your eyes and reached into your bag. Pulling out your charger, you held it out to him but swiped it back quickly before he could take it.
"Don't forget to give it back..." You told him and he snatched it out of your hand.
"I won't, don't worry" he gave you a boyish grin before plugging the charger into his own laptop. The door slammed open and in a fraction of a second the professor had already set up the lesson and had started rambling on about the next book that was going to be studied.
It was halfway through the lecture that Jake started to get comfortable and rested his hand on your thigh and you willed yourself to avoid looking at his face or down at where his hand was placed. Out of your peripheral, you saw a blush paint its way across Jake's face almost like watercolor paint on a canvas.
As soon as the lecture was over Jake abruptly stood up and you nearly jumped at the sudden movement.
"Do you wanna come over? To work on the project of course..." He asked and you giggled and nodded. He paused for a second before speaking again.
"Actually maybe not...I think my brother is home..." he said and you frowned and shrugged.
"I don't mind, we're just working on the project. Right?" I said smirking at him and his cheeks became flushed and he nodded in agreement.
"Yeah of course..." he mumbled before starting to walk out of the lecture hall with you closely following him.
The short walk was filled with small talk and playful comments, and before you knew it, the pair of you had arrived at the dorm door. Jake opened it, and the scene that met your eyes surprised you. Two tall men were frozen in place, looking towards you and Jake. They dropped their arms, clearly playfighting around, and you caught the curly headed one give Jake a look.
Jake let out a small playful groan. "I didn't know you were both going to be here," He said, moving into the kitchen to place his bag on the table, and you copied his actions.
"Don't act too happy to see both of us here" the curly-haired boy said sarcastically.
Jake turned to look at you with an apologetic look on his face and you just smiled at him awkwardly.
"That one there..." he said pointing at the boy that had just spoken, "is Danny." Danny smiled and gave a small wave, dropping the pillow that he was holding in order to look less threatening. You smiled and waved back in return.
"The other dickhead is Sammy," Jake said and Sammy looked at Jake with a shocked look and chucked the pillow he was previously using at him but Jake managed to duck in time. You laughed a little and Jake rolled his eyes. He grabbed both of your bags in one hand before grabbing your hand and walking towards his room.
"We're gonna work in my room instead" he mumbled. You heard the two boys in the living room gasp loudly.
"Keep the door open and keep two feet apart at all times" Sam shouted and you giggled as you followed Jake into his bedroom, the door being shut behind you by Jake.
You settled on sitting in a beanbag on the floor and opened up your laptop to start working. You bent your knees slightly to act as a desk and started to get comfy.
"Shit I forgot to ask, do you want a drink or anything?" Jake asked softly and you thought for a second and asked for some water. He nodded his head and walked back out of the room and into the kitchen. You heard some rustling around and quiet murmurs from the boys but decided to ignore them and start working.
A few minutes later, Jake walked back into the room and shut the door carefully while keeping an eye on both drinks. He didn't take his eyes off your drink until you had taken it out of his care and put it on the floor next to you as he placed his on a coaster on his desk.
"I'm sorry about them, I only thought Danny would be home...he's the more peaceful one out of the two" he said, muttering the last part under his breath and you laughed quietly and shrugged.
"It's okay, they won't interrupt us right?" you asked and he shook his head.
"They know not to come into my room in case y'know..." he trailed off at the end as he referred to his online activities and you smiled and nodded.
"Were those your brothers?" Jake nodded.
"Yeah. Neither of them are my twin though. " He said and you watched as a small smile appeared on his face while he was thinking about the final brother. He soon snapped out of his thoughts and logged into his computer and within 10 minutes, you were both focused on the project and had divided up the work equally.
An hour later, you looked at the time in the corner of your screen and stretched out a little and looked up at Jake, his eyes not leaving his screen. You allowed yourself to admire how his face lit up from the light and you could feel a warm sensation take over your body. A thought popped into your head and you smirked at the idea.
You stood up and nearly groaned as your muscles stretched but walked over to where Jake was sitting in his chair at his desk. You went behind him and bent down and slid your hands over his shoulders and rested them on his chest. He took one of his hands off of the keyboard and placed it on top of yours.
He lifted his head to look at you and smiled. You moved to stand next to him, still holding his hand.
"I was thinking..." you started and he looked at you with raised eyebrows.
"Oh that's never a good thing" he said and you hit his chest and let go of his hand. He picked up his mug and lifted it to his lips to take a sip.
"I wanna watch you do your livestream later" you rushed.
"You...what?" Jake said, almost choking on his tea and you cocked your head and smiled innocently at him.
"I want to watch, is that okay?" you answered and he nodded quickly in response, his cheeks turning a deep red.
"That's more than okay, angel" he muttered before continuing to drink his tea. "You just make sure you stay silent, don't want others online knowing" he said and you agreed and sat back down in the beanbag smirking knowingly to yourself.
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iamthecomet · 8 months
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i will offer you my firstborn child for a new ghoul focused fic about him being praised about insecurities. i find comfort in my favs having the same issues as me, so the idea of him not really liking his body but being praised for it is just so good to me
I don’t know if this is exactly what you were looking for. But I blacked out and wrote 1k of Aeon/Dew angst/comfort. ♥ No smut (but it's implied). Just Aeon being insecure and Dew having none of it.
Aeon feels….wrong. The galaxy that is his existence shoved into this…the other called it a vessel. He thinks prison is a better word. They keep telling him he'll get used to it. Used to looking in the mirror and seeing…this. Whatever it is.
Dark skin splotched with swirling galaxies. Freckles like stars dotted over the pale spots. The brilliant white stripe of hair that keeps falling over his too dark eyes.
The horns and tail, at least, are familiar. Horns sharp and nearly iridescent. Shimmering black. His tail, dark as the night sky, curls around his forearm. The spade tapping against his ever rapid pulse. He fiddles with the waistband of his pants. Tightens the belt. He's always been small, but he feels his size so much more acutely here. He feels bigger--his personality dictates it. But next to Aether he looks like a kit.
The mechanical lock in the door hums. Clicks. It swings open to reveal Dew, shouldering it open as he stumbles through the small opening. Cheeks flushed, golden hair pulled back into a messy bun. Boots untied.
Dew looks up at Aeon as he closes the door--harder than necessary. Dew leans back against it, a little out of breath. His eyes glued to Aeon's body.
Aeon thinks about asking where he's been--what they all did after the show when they got together and Aeon retreated back to the room claiming an imaginary headache. But he doesn't think he actually wants to know. Doesn't really want to hear about whatever dive bar they found tonight. Or who Dew fucked in a sticky bathroom.
Dew reeks of cigarettes. Stale beer. Aeon crinkles his nose, drags his eyes away from the fire ghoul and back to the mirror. Meeting his own eyes. Still startled by himself. By the way the scars from the pit have translated onto this body.
Dew pushes away from the door and Aeon watches him move. Toe off his boots, shrug off his jacket. Dew has his t-shirt halfway off when he finally talks. Voice muffled by cotton.
"Checking yourself out, huh?"
Aeon winces. He could lie. Say yes. That would be the end of it. But he finds himself shaking his head before he can stop himself.
"I'm not--that doesn't look like me."
Dew tosses his t-shirt across the room when he finally gets it off. He blows hair out of his mouth. Meeting Aeon's eyes in the mirror. He moves closer, stalks is a better word for the way Dew walks. Aeon still isn't used to it. Being the singular focus of Dew's attention is still a little intense. Dew stops right behind him.
Close up the cigarette smell isn't as bad as Aeon thought. He can smell Dew underneath it. Cinnamon, woodsmoke, autumnal in a way that makes Aeon wish for fall. They're almost the same size. Aeon's a little bigger but he doesn't feel that way. He feels minuscule under the weight of Dew's gaze.
Dew catches his eye in the mirror, brow furrowing. "What were you expecting?"
It's a hard question, one Aeon almost chokes on. He doesn't know how to answer it. Taller maybe, broader, like Aether. Like other Quint ghouls even though he's always been little. Smooth, even skin. Lighter eyes. Something else--not this.
He doesn't answer, the words don't come. Dew reaches out. Traces overwarm fingers over one of the lighter patches of Aeon's skin. Thumb dragging over the galaxy of freckles, the endless array of colors.
"I don't know what you see when you look at yourself," Dew says slowly, like he's testing the waters. "But I think it's different than what I see when I look at you."
"Which is what?"
Dew huffs out a laugh, breath tickling Aeon's ear. Dew's hand slips lower, over his chest. "You're so fucking pretty."
Aeon's cheeks heat. He drags his eyes away from Dew's, looks down over the flat plane of his chest. Dews fingers ghosting over his collarbone. Feather light.
"You don't have to lie to me."
Dew goes rigid behind him. His fingers go still on Aeon's chest. The other hand snakes around his waist, presses flat to Aeon's stomach. An iron grip.
"Look at me."
Aeon raises his eyes to Dew's in the mirror.
"No," Dew snaps, "look at me."
He forces himself to turn his head, to look at Dew for real. Flesh and blood only inches from his face.
"Why the fuck do you think I'm lying to you?"
Aeon shrugs. "I…look at me..I'm not--"
"Shut up," Dew says, eye roll iminant. Aeon opens his mouth to protest but Dew keeps talking, cutting him off. Molten eyes fixed on his. Aeon had noticed before--but the center of Dew's eyes hints toward blue. Copper, oxidized. "You're exactly the way you're supposed to be. So fucking pretty I can't stand to look at you sometimes. Makes me insane."
"I--"
"I know how it feels to look in the mirror and not see yourself. But fuck Aeon, I don't know what you were expecting, but you're wrong. This is better than anything you were hoping for."
"Wrong? It's an opinion."
"Yeah. A wrong one. Looking at you is like looking at the sky on a clear night. You're the fucking milky way."
Aeon's words fail him. Protests dying on his tongue. Heart swelling. Something that feels like a sob threatening to break free in his chest. If Dew's lying--he's damn good at it. Aeon sees nothing in that angular face but devotion. It's overwhelming, he could drown in it. Maybe he wants to.
Dew tips his head forward, leans his forehead against Aeon's. Horns bumping. Breath mingling.
"Come to bed," Dew whispers, "I'll show you how much I mean it." Aeon's body is filled with light. Warmth. Static. He thinks he should nod, should let himself be led away, worshipped the way Dew's eyes are promising. He reaches up instead, drags his fingers over the sharp line of Dew's cheekbone. Dew leans into his touch, eyes fluttering closed.
"You want me," Aeon whispers, an impossibility. Dew nods, nuzzling against his hand.
"Yeah, dumbass, I do."
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dandylovesturtles · 9 months
Text
uh just a little something because I was thinking of something earlier and idk I like quiet moments of intimacy between people
set in the bad future timeline but like nobody's dying or anything, it's just #autismproblems but also it's the apocalypse
cw in depth discussion of food sensitivities? ig?
~~~
Leo knocks on the lab door before giving his code to the voice lock, just to give Donnie a little warning before he comes in. He's holding a small plate, utensils, and two bowls of stew, which don't smell particularly appetizing, but they have to do what they can with limited rations, these days.
Donnie is hunched over his work table, battleshell off which means he's taken April's suggestion/threat to get a few hours of shell time every day to heart. He's wearing his ragged and dirty hoodie, the one he refuses to part with no matter how many holes it gets, because both the color and fabric are "perfect".
He looks over his shoulder as Leo walks in, then sighs and hunches a little further down. He's tense, now.
"That time, huh?"
"Yep." He sets the bowl down on the desk, along with his spoon. "My suggestion is don't ask what's in it."
"I stopped asking after we lost the greenhouse." Donnie keeps his attention on his work. "Leave it there; I'll eat it when I'm done with this."
"Aww, come on." Leo grabs the extra chair and wheels it over, collapsing into it. "You don't want to eat dinner with your favorite twin?"
Donnie raises his goggles so the look he gives in response is more effective. "Did Mikey send you to babysit me?"
"Whaaat? Pfft. No."
Technically it's not a lie - April sent him.
"Uh-huh," says Donnie like he absolutely doesn't buy that. He's still not reaching for the bowl.
"...Dee," says Leo, his voice going softer. He nods at the bowl. "You gotta eat."
They've all noticed how he's been losing weight - and all of them have lost weight, that's not exclusively a Donnie problem, but Donnie's weight loss has been far more apparent. None of them are getting enough to eat, but Donnie isn't eating enough.
And Leo knows why. The food they're eating now isn't exactly a taste or sensory delight even for him, and he's been known to eat just about any garbage put in front of him. He can only imagine how it is for Donnie.
But he has to eat. He can't just stop.
Donnie mumbles something under his breath, but then he swivels his chair away from the table. He motions to a more clean surface across the room. "Let's at least go over there, if you insist on watching me."
"Let's move over there for our casual family dinner," agrees Leo, and he can't help but grin at the eye roll he gets in response.
They move, and Leo passes the plate and fork and knife off to Donnie. Then he stops staring at his brother for a bit and starts eating his own stew; set a good example. The meat in it is not very good - fatty and chewy, with some gristly bits - but it's protein, and Leo will take what he can get.
When he's almost halfway through his bowl, he looks back and sees Donnie has only managed to suck down some of the broth and not a lot else.
"You can't just eat the broth," he says, and Donnie grimaces.
"I know that. I know this is all we have and that if I want to stay functioning I have to eat it." Donnie hisses an annoyed breath through his teeth. "But if logically knowing things solved the problem you wouldn't be in here babysitting me."
"I'm not babysitting you. Think of me like... your eating hypeman." When Donnie raises an eyebrow at him, he grins and pumps his fist. "Go go Tello go!"
"Annoyed huff, you are the worst," Donnie grouses, but the tension in his shoulders loosens up, just a little. He dips the spoon in and ladles out a smaller piece of the meat, screwing up his face when he looks at it. But he puts it in his mouth.
Just eating that little bit seems like it takes a massive amount of work. Donnie chews for a long time, squeezing his eyes shut and fanning one hand like he's trying to cool himself down. Then he swallows, finally, and it looks like it physically pains him.
But he ate it and didn't cough it back out and that's a win in Leo's book.
He bites back any comments like "That wasn't so bad, was it?" because he knows from the look on Donnie's face it was absolutely terrible. Instead he just asks, "Think you can do a few more?"
"No," he says immediately, and Leo sighs.
"Donnie..."
"I'm trying," Donnie snaps, and Leo quiets. "I didn't ask to be like this. Trust me, I know how inconvenient it is."
And Leo hates this, hates that his brother is talking that way, hates the state of the world is such that he has to struggle just to eat, but he has to choose his responses carefully because Donnie hates to be pitied.
"I know, bro - shit sucks," he says, and puts warmth in his voice to tell Donnie this isn't a dismissal; if he wants to complain the whole way about how much he hates this, Leo will gladly listen. "If you wanna beat up some krang hounds about it later, we can do that."
Donnie actually makes a noise that is dangerously close to a laugh. "And do what, make more stew out of them?"
"This isn't krang hound! I think..."
"You really don't know?"
"I was serious about not asking," says Leo, and Donnie's lips actually twitch up.
He fishes another piece of meat out, sets it on the plate and cuts it up into smaller chunks. Leo knows he feels self-conscious, having to do that. He's hardly the only person in the colony that has texture issues, and Leo knows no one is dumb enough to try to pick a fight with Donatello Hamato over his eating habits, but... some things Donnie feels more comfortable doing only in the presence of family.
If hiding in his lab and chopping all his food up into bite-size chunks is what it takes to get his brother to eat, though, Leo will let him do it.
Donnie takes the small chunks one at a time and swallows them whole, without chewing. His mutant biology makes it easier, and he reacts less visibly nauseous this way.
He gets through two more pieces of meat like that, Leo watching him while he eats his own. He wants to tell Donnie he's proud of him, but then Donnie will definitely feel babied and he'll throw Leo out.
So instead, Leo ladles up one of his veggies (at least, he thinks it's a veggie) and pops it in his mouth.
"Slimy, yet satisfying," he says with a smirk.
"Take your hakuna matatas and shove them up your ass," says Donnie without missing a beat.
Leo doubles over laughing, and when he looks back up Donnie is grinning and over half his bowl is gone.
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koshercosplay · 5 months
Text
Her sword was out before the creature could even blink.
"Don't come any closer," she snarled. "I know what you are."
The goblin in front of her bared it's teeth. "And I know what you are, princess."
She gave a start. It knew that about her? Or was it just a petty insult?
"Doesn't matter." She lifted her chin. "I want you out of this kingdom. Your kind don't belong here." It was thrilling to finally put her training to good use. One by one, the goblin menace would finally be over in her lifetime.
The creature tilted its head to the side and began circling her. She swallowed thickly and followed it's path with her sword outstretched. It's pale green skin seemed to shift in the sunlight, and the pointed ears poking through it's thick hair reminded her of toadstools peeking out from the soil beneath their feet.
"The princess finally comes out of the castle. Finally getting her hands dirty for the first time." It stopped moving and swooped into a condescending bow, never taking it's eyes off her face. "Please accept my most heartfelt congratulations," it sneered.
She bristled at the implication of her softness and tried to match the goblins' jeering tone as she responded, "I've been training for this my whole life." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."
"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" It's yellow eyes glinted.
"Why-" She couldn't believe her ears (which were blissfully rounded, thank you.) "Would you like me to apologize for allowing you a few more seconds of your slimy existence?"
"Slimy?" It ran a finger down the length of a bare arm and made a show of holding it up in mock ignorance and examining it closely, before dropping it to hang loosely at its side. "The fact that you believe that shows me what good your training has done for you."
It held its arms out to either side, as if initiating some bizarre attempt at an embrace.
"Come on, then. Kill me."
Her sword was still pointed at it's chest. It would be an easy kill. But even as she leveled her gaze and prepared to strike, something stopped her. She could already hear her father scolding her for taking so long, but there was something wrong.
Against her better judgment, she dropped her arm and let her sword rest by her side, keeping a firm grip on it, just in case.
"All the goblins I've heard about put up a great fight with our warriors." The goblin had the nerve to roll its eyes. She pressed on. "Why are you being so... so- boring!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, princess. Would you like me to be more entertaining?"
In a flash, the goblin was entirely too close to her, and she could feel it's breath on her face as it closed its hand on hers over the hilt of her sword. And to her immense embarrassment, she froze. Absurdly, she noticed that the goblins' skin was not, in fact, slimy. Interesting.
In another second, the goblin had twisted the sword out of her hand and thrown it halfway across the clearing and took a few steps back.
"Oh no! The poor helpless princess was set upon by a goblin!" It called out loudly, and she cringed. "She couldn't possibly hope to defeat its superior intellect and battle skills!"
She shook herself out of her frozen state and dared to step forward.
"I would thank you to stop talking now," she said coldly.
It appeared to consider her words.
"Yes, you're quite right," it said, mimicking her lofty tone. "You're too boring to bother fighting with."
It turned and began walking away with an infuriating spring in its step, as if she wasn't standing right there, armed to the teeth. She silently drew out the tiny dagger from her right gauntlet and took careful aim. This time she wouldn't hesitate. The goblin paused, and then turned around so quickly that she didn't have time to hide her actions. Caught in the act.
"You're preparing to throw something at me, which will only end in your injury, not my death. Come now, let's part friends." It grinned at the look on her face.
"Don't worry. I know we'll never be friends." It turned away from her and began walking again. "You're too busy trying to kill me."
"What- but-" she spluttered. "Only because you lot are trying to kill us!"
That made it pause again, although this time it didn't say anything. She started walking towards it, closing the distance between them and wondering at how silent it's footsteps had been in comparison to hers. It was still keeping its back to her, either in foolish bravado or sheer confidence in its speed. It turned quickly when she approached some invisible boundary.
"Are we?" It suddenly said, fierce and low.
"Are you... what?" She responded, confused.
"Are we trying to kill you?"
She bit back the urge to make a derisive comment. What was the point of this circular conversation? Time was marching on and she still hadn't killed a goblin.
"Yes. You are. It's been well-documented and you know it."
It looked at her in disbelief.
"You really believe that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" She said defensively. "Everyone knows goblins are vicious thieves who will do anything to snatch a penny. I'll have you know my uncle was killed by a goblin in cold blood!"
The goblin was silent for a moment, yellow eyes searching her brown ones.
"I haven't tried to kill you."
"You are clearly the exception."
"Hm, well I know plenty of goblins who have never gotten into a fight."
She scoffed, this time letting her derision show freely. The goblin seemed insistent on continuing the conversation instead of fighting, which was incredibly frustrating. It wouldn't be honorable to kill it while it refused to fight, although it sure would be easier. She decided to voice her confusion aloud, again.
"Can you tell me why, exactly, you are so determined to avoid fighting me?"
"I heard humans smell so bad, you can tell they're coming from a mile away. I had to see for myself."
She began to get offended, and opened her mouth to give it a piece of her mind, before she realized it was grinning again.
"What's your name?" It asked her, taking her by surprise.
"Fern," she said instinctively, too taken aback to remember she wasn't supposed to answer that question.
"Fern. What a good goblin name." It winked at her. Asshole. "My name is Ash." It started walking away again, but this time, it motioned for her to follow it.
Was she insane? She came out here to kill her first goblin and take her place alongside her mother. She should be wiping its blood off her sword and heading back to the castle in victory, not standing around chatting history and exchanging names with it!
On the other hand... she tilted her head as she took the first few steps to follow the goblin- Ash. No one else that she was aware of had ever been invited somewhere by a goblin. History was littered with failed agreements, betrayals, victories and defeats. But who'd had a conversation with a goblin, been left alive, and then invited somewhere?
As far as she could tell, Ash was leading her along a fairly well-traveled path through the forest, although it was leading her unnervingly far from where she was supposed to be. Someone would come looking for her soon. Most likely Arvit.
She groaned inwardly. Arvit would chastise her, loudly and publicly, if she didn't make it back by nightfall. And she wouldn't be allowed this opportunity again for a long while.
Ash was silent ahead of her, unaware of or uninterested in Fern's movement. She studied the goblin from behind even as she kept careful track of their journey, so that she could lead her soldiers here in the future. It was lean in body, and it's skin had an unhealthy pallor, from what she could see of its bare arms and legs. It's simple tunic and well-worn, knee-length trousers, gave the impression of someone who traveled a lot and lived simply.
She surprised herself by wondering where Ash had gotten her clothes- Wait. Was Ash a woman? It was always so difficult to tell with goblins. And since when did she care anyway? It was a goblin. It's not like they were going to end up best friends. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, trying to give off an air of confidence. She was the one in power here. Not the goblin.
Their surroundings slowly changed as they kept walking, going from dense, lush forest to darker, more sinister woods. Fern started jumping at every distant creak or snap of a twig. Something hooted nearby and she nearly dove behind a tree. Ash resolutely kept walking, paying no attention to any of the sounds around them, although it did take the time to point and laugh at Fern when she stumbled and fell into a pool of mud.
Finally, she planted her feet and declared, "I'm not going any further until you tell me what's going on."
Ash stopped and turned around, and deadpanned, "Don't worry, I didn't bring you here to kill you."
Fern snorted. "You can't kill me. You would have already if you'd been able to."
Silence fell between them, and Fern realized that the darkness around them wasn't just from the woods. It was truly past sunset, and she was so screwed.
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
Note
Reader taking eggnogg in a leash just because they are their little pet. Their pampered baby.
When you proposition the idea of buying them a leash, Elisha proposes a counter offer after deep consideration.
"Can I make it myself?...."
"Sure?" You couldn't see any harm in letting them do it- not with those puppy eyes.
Eggnog beams like a child on christmas, color flushed to their pale features as a smile splits their cheeks. Bolting for the stairwell at speeds supernatural for a figure of their size and stature, Eggnog knocks down several pictures frames in the hall, and articles of clothing from your closet as they ascend - a hairline fracture splitting the far wall of your living room ceiling as they trip somewhere along the narrow passage way to the attic. They regain their balance, mark the hole their horns left to repair later, and continue on their way.
Eggnog makes quick work of their homemade leash. Everything they needed was already close by, and most importantly you were waiting for them. A stuffed rabbit with an old shirt of yours sewn into the lining of its ears made up the base of their creation, some straps they had stored away stitched into its sided and adjusted according to their wide shoulders. They fashion the remanding strips into a leash which they attach onto the rabbit's left foot, finishing their masterpiece. The stitching was a tad sparse, but they trusted you and themselves enough to avoid causing the bunny harm. Eggnog takes a moment to sit back and kisses the plush's horns modeled after their own for their brave sacrifice - utilizing the opportunity to breath in the scent of you embedded in the fabric of your old tee.
Elisha returns to find you dozing off on the couch. They crotch beside you and wrap the leash around your wrists before gently shaking you awake, combing their hair over their shoulder as you stir. Once you're up and fully responsive; Eggnog turns so you can see the their backpack, reaching an arm behind them to give you a wave by use of the rabbit's paw. Their eyes grow big with question as they face you again.
"It's adorable, Eggs" You cup your hands beneath their chin, guiding their head into your lap as you raise one up to their horns. Eggnog stiffens as they normally did in the presence of comfort, but soon melts at the first stroke long the hollow bone. You hate to spoil the moment, but as they begin to purr you know the plans you made would have to be delayed if they fell asleep. You help them sit upright, wiping spit coated strands of hair from their cheek.
"Before you doze off let's go for a walk first. I'm sure you're tired from all the work you did, so once we get back we take a bath and head off to bed. How's that sound?"
The effect of your words is astounding. Eggnog is at the door before you get your shoes on. It's a good thing you let go of their leash first. They race out the door once you open it for them - redirecting right back to the house after making it halfway across yard to retrieve what they had forgotten. You help them get their sunhat on as Eggnog ties the leash around your wrist. They walk behind you this time, looking at you for lead into town.
At your heels is where they stay for the rest of your stroll. The anxiety of being outside quickly leaves them in favor of the joy being with you brings. They even have the courage to say hello to their fellow hybrids - if not to gloat for being the one you adore most. They are, aren't they? They haven't given you much choice given they lived in your attic, but you were as much theirs as they were yours. Eggnog bumps into you a few times as the realization hits them. It doesn't catch their guard until you stopped in front of two unfamiliar faces. The one holding the map is the first to speak while the other eyes Eggnog.
"Hi, we're just stopping in town looking for a lake nearby? Can either of you help us find it."
"Sure, I'll mark it on you map."
Eggnog picks at their lips as you walk over. No, no no- Who are these strangers, and why are they cutting in on your precious time together. Haven't they been through enough, don't they deserve this? Realistically it would've only taken you about a minute to help the tourist, but Eggnog needed you more - and now. They creep closer.
"home."
"Just a minute, Eggs."
Their chest presses against your back. "Now."
You look down as their arms slither around your waist, tying your hands together with their leash.
"Eggs?- Wha... EGGNOG!"
Shoving the duo aside, Eggnog flees the scene carrying you to their chest. You keep your screams to a minimum as despite their actions you know what it does to their ears. Eggnog darts into an alleyway and places you down to catch their breath. Before you can speak, their mop of messy hair distorts your vision as their lips snuff out your words. They force the leash into your hands as they rest their forehead against yours, noses brushed together.
"mine."
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2-guns-b1tch · 3 months
Text
Midnight Visitor
Rating: Explicit +18
Pairing: BTAA! Scarecrow x F!Reader
I really wanted to write something about the Scarecrow from the Audio Adventures. I love his voice and his mannerisms so much. Sorry if this a little OOC, i think i wasn't able to portray him exactly right, but I hope you like this and let me now if I forgot to mention a trigger warning.
Ao3
+18 Minors DNI!!! Fear Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Breathplay if you squint, Vaginal Sex.
The waiting room is practically empty when you come in. The only person in there is Miss Gold and she seems to be getting ready to leave for her lunch break.
"Hello, Miss Gold," your voice breaks the silence, making her jump on her chair.
Miss Gold snaps her head in your direction, laughing softly with a hand on her chest when she realizes is actually you.
"Oh, hello, Mrs. Crane. I was sou caught that you startled me."
Miss Gold has been Jonathan's secretary for almost two years. She was a little shorter than you, wearing high heels to make up for the missing inches. Her round, rosy cheeks reminded you of a peach, matching her plumper silhouette. Her clothes were often pastel and soft, which made her stand out in the dull environment of the clinic.
Although Miss Gold was sweet and helpful, she always had this nervous expression on her face, looking like she was on the verge of an anxiety attack constantly. You needed to have a conversation with Jonathan to find out what kind of pressure he was putting on the poor secretary.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to sneak in like this," you say, approaching her table. "I came to bring Jonathan's lunch. Is he here?"
Miss Gold nods, "Yes, he is, dear. Would you like me to let him know you're here?"
"You don't have to, thank you. Go enjoy your lunch, Miss Gold. I will take care of the doctor now.”
You say goodbye before she leaves and you knock on Jonathan's door, his voice on the other end signaling you to come in.
"What's so important, Miss-" Jonathan lifts his head towards you, the annoyed expression on his face being washed away when he lays his eyes on you, a small smile forming on the corners of his lips.
You can't help but shiver as you walk over to his desk. The old, dark furniture gave the room a gloomy air, the dim lights creating strange shadows. But what made you feel more uneasy were the old Argus Studios posters hanging on the walls. Basil Karlo's wicked gaze followed you wherever you went.
You try to shake off that feeling when Jonathan gets up and meets you halfway.
"What do I owe the pleasure of your honorable presence?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
You pull him by his orange tie – the same one you had gifted him last Christmas – until he was at your level and you could kiss him on the cheek.
"You forgot that at home, so I thought I'd stop by to deliver it to you," you lift the lunchbox, handing it to him.
He slaps a hand on his forehead, giving a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. "What would I do without my dear wife?"
"You would probably end up forgetting your head somewhere," you pat him at the shoulder before sitting down on the therapy couch.
Jonathan just nods, sitting next to him. He opens the package, admiring for a few seconds what you had packed before he started eating.
You watch him finish the salad in just a few bites and then stuff his mouth full of spaghetti. He licks his lips, letting out a few moans of delight between bites.
"Good to know you still like my food," you comment out Loud.
"How could I not? That was one of the main reasons I married you."
You try to look offended by giving him a weak slap on the arm, but you can't hide your smile when he starts laughing.
"You're terrible!"
"You can't go back now. Until death do us part, remember?" he shrugs as if there's nothing you can do. “Besides, we both know you’re crazy about me."
You roll your eyes at him, but your fingers troke your wedding ring, a warm sensation spreading across your chest.
"You look hungry. What would you have eaten if I hadn’t brought your lunch?"
He shrugs as he finishes chewing. "I probably would have asked Miss Gold to buy me something. Don't worry."
But it was impossible not to worry. In these last months, Jonathan left early in the morning and returned only late at night. He said he was too busy at the office and that you shouldn't wait for him awake. Even then you always woke up when he arrived home and helped him take off his clothes, only being able to talk for a few minutes until he fell asleep exhausted.
Of course you were grateful for the comfortable life his jobs provided, and you were very proud of his career as a doctor and professor, but you didn't want him to work until he killed himself.
You run your fingers through his hair, brushing a few strands off his forehead. He definitely needed a cut. On top of that, he looked even thinner and the dark circles under his eyes were getting bigger. But even after all these years together, he was still the man of your dreams. A little mean and weird, but you didn't want it any other way.
Jonathan stares at you, his gaze as warm and loving as ever. But at the same time it seemed so far away, as if he wasn't really there.
"Today they're going to reprise some classic horror movies. What do you think? You, me, a bucket of popcorn?" you propose.
"I'm sorry, dear. Not today. I have some tests that I need to go through and-" Jonathan begins to explain himself, but you interrupt him.
"It's okay, you have work to do. I get it.”
You bite your tongue, hating how angry you sound. You didn't want to take your frustrations out on him, but you missed Jonathan so much. You missed dancing with him as he hummed some silly music he made up. To watch the classic horror movies he loved so much. To simply be able to talk to him without Jonathan falling asleep in the middle of a sentence. And you missed the sex, too.
Jonathan was still affectionate, of course, but the caresses and touches boiled down to a quick kiss before he left or a hug when he arrived. Nothing more than that. Now, Jonathan left a void around the house, like a ghost walking in the halls.
He places the lunch box on the coffe table, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You're upset, I understand.”
You move your gaze to your lap. "I'm not upset. I'm just... tired. I’ve barely seen you these last few days."
He puts his hand over yours, his skin feeling cold against your own.
"I know these past months have been difficult. But I'll make it up to you," he strokes your cheek, tilting your chin to look into your eyes. "I promise."
You really want to believe him, but a part of you suspects that these are empty promises. This behavior will keep repeating itself and you will keep forgiving him, until eventually you drift further apart.
A paranoid little voice in the back of your mind suggests a hypothesis for Jonathan's absence and you hate yourself for thinking about something like that. What if he was cheating on you? What if all this distance over the past few months was actually someone between you.
Jonathan wasn't that kind of man, but the voice kept repeating. What if? What if he had grown tired of you? What if that person was more beautiful? Or more interesting? What if they made him happier than you?
The idea makes your stomach turn and you swallow dry. You pull your hand from his grip, getting up from the couch.
"I should go," you say as you put the lunchboxes back in the bag. "After all, you have a lot of work to do."
You feel numb as Jonathan follow you to the door, barely feeling the goodbye kiss he places on your forehead.
You wish you had walked out of the office hoping that things would get better or at least satisfied that this is just a temporary crisis that all couples have to face at some point.
Instead, doubt and a feeling of distress accompany you all the way home.
——
You stir awake, being pulled slowly from your dreams. Everything seems hazy and fuzzy as you run you fingers over Jonathan’s bedside, but you only find his side cold and empty. You sigh in frustration, letting your head sink against the pillow again. You should be used to it by now.
The alarm on your bedside table signals that it's past midnight, the numbers on the digital clock flashing through the darkness of the room. You snuggle under the covers again, almost forgetting what woke you up in the first place. Sleep is so tempting and you start to drift off.
But an insistent sound keeps you awake. You stare at the ceiling, your eyes getting used to the darkness as you begin to make out what exactly the noise was.
Steps. Someone was walking around the apartment.
You pull the sheets, the sole of your foot meeting the cold floor. You try not to assume the worst as you get out of bed. Maybe it was just Jonathan coming home from work.
You step into the hallway, turning on the switch, but the light bulb flickers a few time before the shadows envelop you once more. You sigh, cursing yourself silently. The hallway light wasn’t working properly and you were supposed to change it weeks ago.
You walk slowly with your arms extended in front of your body so you don’t bump into anything until you can reach the bathroom door. You turn the lights on and a momentary feeling of safety rushes over you. Everything looks okay in the bathroom, so you decide to let the lights on and the door open to let a little bit o the light illuminate the hallway.
After that you go to check the living room and the kitchen. Your thin nightgown isn't enough to keep you warm on that cold night and you hug yourself, a shiver running through your skin.
You finally go to the front door to test the handle. To your relief, is locked and the bolt was in place. Even though you lived in a safe neighborhood you still had your fears, after all, Gotham is Gotham. You can never be too sure.
Maybe it was just a dream? You wonder for a second until you notice the light in Jonathan's office leaking through the small crack in the door. As you get closer, the sound of mumbling and papers being flipped through becomes more noticeable. Jonathan was really incorrigible. After hours at his office, he brought even more work home.
"Jon, you should go to bed," you stop in front of the door, rubbing your eyes until they get used to the brightness of the room.
You had the clear image of Jonathan in your head. He'd be sitting behind his desk with a tired expression on his face, pen hanging loose in his hand while he is finishing giving grades fos his students’ tests. You would whisper in a sweet tone and stroke his hair until he agreed to follow you back to bed.
Instead, your heart sinks as your eyes fall on the stranger leaning over Jonathan's desk, papers scattered everywhere. He was tall and thin, wearing a brown suit. His face was covered by a patched mask, a rope around his neck.
You've heard and read countless stories about him, but you never expected that one day you'd come face to face with the Scarecrow.
Sleep is a distant thing now. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your whole body tense, your feet stuck on the ground. Your instincts scream at you to run, fight, do anything, but the idea of moving seems impossible. All you can do is watch transfixed as Scarecrow stares at you from across the room, a heavy, suffocating silence forming between the two of you.
For some reason he seems as surprised as you do, as if he didn't expect someone to show up.
He walks around the table with slow steps, his hands raised in the air. "Hush. I didn't come here to hurt you," he sounds calm and... strangely familiar. But the grim smile sewn into his mask doesn't help to reassure you.
This is like a nightmare. The kind where you stay in the same place while running, unable to distance yourself from the monster that chases you, no matter how hard you try. But now, the monster wouldn't disappear when you opened your eyes. No matter how much you blink, he's still there.
He's only a few inches away, his hand almost touching your arm, when your feet finally work again and you run out of the room, heading towards the kitchen.
You can hear the Scarecrow right behind you through the rapid beating of your heart, his footsteps reverberating against the hardwood floor, but you don't dare look back.
Your first extinct is to open one of the drawers to grab the biggest knife you can find. You turn just in time to see the Scarecrow standing in the kitchen doorway, your trembling hands gripping the handle of the knife as you point the blade at him. The shadows cast strange shapes on his face, making the smile on his mask seem even bigger. For a moment he looks like one of the monsters from Jonathan's movies.
"Don't come closer!" you scream.
He ignores your order, taking one step toward you and then another. Approaching in the same careful manner that a predator approaches its prey.
You swallow, your wobbly legs seeming to be unable to bear your own weight. "If you come any closer I-I... I'm going to hurt you."
He pauses for a moment, tilting his head as he studies you. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves ma’am. You don't want to make any rash decisions."
"Stay away from me! My husband is going to arrive any moment and he's going to-"
The Scarecrow throws his head back in a cruel laugh that sends a shiver down your spine, as if you've said something stupid.
"Look at you, trying to rationalize with fear. So brave," he shakes his head, approaching again.
With every step he takes, you take another step back in a futile attempt to increase the distance between you. You keep retreating until you're backed against the kitchen counter and that's when it lunges at you. He slaps your hand, throwing your knife across the room.
You try to scream, but he presses his hand over your mouth to muffle your cries for help. You flinch at the sensation of the cold leather of his gloves on your skin, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your arm.
You're like a deer at headlights, too scared to fight for your survival. He was so close now, you could see his eyes through the holes in the mask, deep brown circles staring back at you. His pupils were dilated, he was enjoying it.
To your horror, he presses his face against your neck. He inhales deeply against your skin, letting out a satisfied hum. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you shiver against his grip.
"You’re afraid, aren’t you? You’re afraid, and it’s delicious,” he whispers close to your ear, his voice becoming dark and low as he takes a sharp inhale. "Mmm. You fear is so sweet, I can almost taste it on my tongue. Oh, darling. You're terrified," he laughs hoarsely.
You close your eyes so tightly that you can see little white spots. The whole world seems to spin and you feel dizzy. Would he drug you with the fear gas that all the news have been talking about? Or maybe force you to swallow some of the drugs he makes that look like Halloween candy? You can only think of Jonathan coming home to find your lifeless body lying on the kitchen floor.
The sob you let out goes almost unnoticed and you think he'll just ignore you, but the Scarecrow leans back, your eyes meeting as tears roll down your face.
"Shhh. No crying. Those aren't the kind of tears I want from you," he says in a soft, almost soothing tone as he strokes your hair. "I'll let you talk now, but don't scream. Got it?"
You nod as best you can and he finally pulls his hand off of you. Your tongue feels heavy inside your mouth when you try to speak.
"Wha... What are you going to do with me?" you ask.
"I'm still deciding," he shrugs.
"I don't have anything you want."
"Maybe I don't want something you have. Maybe I want you to do something for me. Have you thought about that?"
His words take a second to fully hit you. You wish you had misunderstood, but it was impossible not to notice the way he looked at you, how his eyes traveled up and down your body. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you shake your head.
"Please don't. I... I have a husband and he-"
Scarecrow interrupts you with a loud sigh. "You keep talking about your husband, but where is he?"
You open your mouth to answer him, but close it right away, pressing your lips into a thin line. You didn't know where Jonathan really was. Maybe he wasn't even in the office. What if he had lied to you?
He continues in a low tone, as if he's telling you a secret. "What kind of husband leaves his wife like that? So lonely. So vulnerable," one of his hands goes down slowly to caress the bare flesh of your thigh while the other grips your waist. You are startled by the feeling of his hands on you, how his touch is surprisingly slow and sensual. You find yourself thinking about Jonathan for a second before remembering that he's not the one touching you.
"Were you waiting for him? That's why you're wearing this nightgown? How lovely," his laugh makes your cheeks heat up. "Lucky me."
He drags his hand up your stomach, running along your sides, teases one of your breasts until your nipple is a stiffen bud underneath your nightgown. You try to look distant on the outside, but it’s impossible to deny the wetness forming between your legs. You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to hold in any noises.
You don't want that. You don't want his hands on you. You don't want his body against yours. But you can't remember the last time you felt wanted. It's been so long since you and Jonathan had sex. You're so tired of feeling alone.
Even with these ideas running through your head, you place a hand against his chest, opening up a bit of space between the two of you.
"No. That's not right," you say, "I don't... I don't want this."
"Oh, don't be like that," he whispers, rubbing his face against you neck. "That could be our little secret. I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise."
The air is drawn out of your lungs, as if you've been punched in the stomach. You turn your head slowly, the words stuck in your throat.
"Jonathan?" you mutter.
His body tenses suddenly, and he tilts his head back, staring at you wide-eyed, like a child who just got caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. How could you not have noticed before? Maybe it was fear confusing your senses, but all the signs were there. The same tall, slender silhouette, the long limbs, the deep brown eyes. The same voice. The same laugh.
He breaks the silence with a low laugh, shaking his head.
"I knew I couldn't fool your forever. You always have been so smart."
He lifts the mask slowly, revealing every bit of his face. The face you knew so well. Jonathan's face.
A million questions cross your mind, but before you can say anything Jonathan presses you against the counter again, capturing your lips.
You gasp and throw a fist into his chest, pressing your teeth against his bottom lip, biting hard enough to hurt, but this jusy makes Jonathan growls like a mad dog. His hands run all over your body, not knowing where to stop. He tugs at your nightgown, the cold air sending shivers through your skin as he grabs and squeezes every bit of flesh he can reach.
The kiss is demanding and sloppy, his hot tongue trailing across your lips and invading your mouth. All you can do is hold on to Jonathan as if your life depended on it, making him grunt as your nails sink into his covered back.
There's something familiar about how your bodies move in sync. A sensual dance that the two of you had done thousands of times before. But now there's a hunger behind Jonathan's movements, something possessive, as if he won’t let you escape. Maybe you were as hungry as he was.
The next moment your world changes perspective as Jonathan turns you around, lowering you down onto the kitchen counter until your cheek is pressed against the cold surface. You moan softly as he lifts the thin material of your nightgown, his mouth leaving warm kiss on the skin of your back.
He pulls your panties down, kicking your legs apart. You were practically naked, while Jonathan was fully clothed, having only taken off his mask and gloves. You feel so exposed, nothing to hide yourself while Jonathan stares at you laid bare before him.
You can hear him shuffling behind you, undoing his own belt and pants in a hurry. You turn your head just in time to see him approaching, his flushed cock pressing against your pussy, making you both grunt together. You don't even care if it hurts, all you want is Jonathan inside you. Filling you completely. Fuck, you want him so bad.
He gathers some of your wetness, his dick sliding in between your folds in slow movements. You moan softly when the tip catches on your clit, the sweet sensation making you buckle your hips towards him.
"Johnny..." you whine, "Please."
Jonathan laughs in a mocking tone, but you know he's not in the mood for teasing either.
You’re wet enough so there is no resistance as he presses intou you, your walls stretching to accommodate his cock. Jonathan moves slowly, leaving you’re both panting when he’s fully inside you. The pain and the pleasure mix deliciously, you missed him so much.
The first thrust takes the air out of your lungs. The second makes your legs tremble. The third makes your back arch and a sweet sound leave your lips. He keeps rutting against you, slow and deep. The wet sound of your bodies combined and your moans reverberate through the walls.
"You're the perfect victim, you know?" he says in between grunts, "You're so beautiful when you're scared. Oh, and when you started running – Fuck... I almost lost my mind. I wanted to take you right there on the floor."
You clench around him, driving him even deeper into you. Jonathan realizes the effect his words have on you, giving you a breathless chuckle.
"Did you like that? Do you like the idea of a maniac fucking you?"
The idea shouldn't be so tempting, but you can't stop thinking about Jonathan hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself and pull you into the darkness with him, where he could do whatever he wanted to you.
You nod weakly and he grips you tighter, his nails leaving half-moon marks on the soft skin of your waist.  His pace is brutal now, your body moving everytime his hips hits your backside.
"Next time... Hah... I'll give you some of the toxin, just enough to keep you on the edge and a little scared," he takes a sharp breath, throwing his head back, "And then... I'm going to put on my mask and I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop."
You open your mouth, but you can’t form words to save your life, so you reach out behind you
to something to hold until your fingers find the rope around Jonathan’s neck and you pull him towards you. He lets out a surprised sound, turning into a sinful moan. His chest is against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.
It’s good. It’s so fucking good. You can’t believe you almost forgot how good it was to have him inside you. You make a silent promise to never let him leave again.
One of his hands moves around your body, his fingers meeting your throbbing clit. He makes quick circles around it, pinching and pressing on it hard. For a moment it all seems too much and not enough at the same time. His cock moving inside you, the pressure on your clit. It was overwhelming in the best kind of way.
With your cheek pressed against the counter and tears streaming down your face, you can feel your orgasm approaching. Behind you, Jonathan's movements get more and more out of rhythm and you know he's not that far away either.
He keeps one hand in between your legs while the other lays flat on your mid section, pulling you close to him, your bodies still glued together.
"Tell me -Ah... Tell me who I am,” he mumbles, cheek nuzzled in your temple. “Tell me what I am,” almost sound like he is begging and you could never say no to him.
"Scarecrow!" the word leaves your lips before you know it. "You're the Scarecrow."
"Yes! That’s right! That’s right, good girl. My good girl,” his praise goes straight to your pussy and you squeeze him impossibly tight.
You throw your head back, stretching your neck until you can kiss him. It’s all teeth and tongue while he keeps moving inside you with shallow thrusts.
Your orgasm hits you so hard that almost hurts. The knot in your lower belly finally snaps and the wave of carnal bliss washes over your. Jonathan comes right after you. He curses between clenched teeth, his hips curling, his breath hot on your skin as he fills your cunt with hot wads of cum.
 You both breathe heavily in the middle of the kitchen, your sweaty bodies intertwined perfectly. Thank God he is holding you, because you barely can feel your legs and if it weren’t for him you know you would be on the floor by this point.
Jonathan snuggles up against your neck, murmuring something sweet, but your mind is too hazy now to hear him. You bring a hand up to his head, stroking his hair.
As you come down from you high, reality finally hits you. One of Gotham's most wanted criminals just came inside you and now he's cuddling you. Oh, and coincidentally, he's your husband... Fuck.
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Text
Sweet As Pie (Beau Arlen)
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Pairing: Beau Arlen X F!Reader
Summary: Beau has a crush on you, so with a bit of help from Jenny, he asks you out.
Warnings: Bit of language, this is literally candy cane fluff
WC: 1.9k
A/N: I meant it when I said I was gonna write for beau. He's so sweet, I adore him. Might or might not write some more for him, depends how this does. What can I say, I'm in my jensen era. Enjoy the pure fluff, you usually don't get this from me. I'm gonna proceed to disappear for another 3 months now.
Note if you're seeing this for a second time, yes, I am reposting this. I had some issues with the tags/dash and it wasn't showing up at all. So I'm trying again. Fingers crossed. No changes tho.
Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
“You’re so into her.”
“I am not.” Even he grimaced at that, his eyebrows furrowed and he pulled his lips into a pout of disapproval, who was he kidding, he knew Jenny was right. But it wasn’t like he could say that out loud. 
When he pulled his ass halfway across the country after his daughter and ex wife, the last thing he expected was to fall for the owner of the local bakery—you. But who wouldn’t? When he met you he was absolutely speechless. The bright smile on your lips, your welcoming attitude, your pretty eyes and your sweet words, they left him flustered. And then he tasted one of your pies, and he knew he was absolutely entranced by you. 
Beau Arlen had a crush on you. Big time. 
He thought he did a pretty good job at hiding it, but after you stopped by the station to drop off a freshly baked cherry pie for him, Jenny caught on. That and the fact that he would not shut the fuck up about you. That was a pretty big tell too. But he thought he was being pretty casual, or at least you seemed to think so, in your clueless nature since apparently it was pretty obvious the sheriff had a bit of a thing for you. 
“Really?” Jenny raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side, clearly unimpressed. Beau opened his mouth to argue, but quickly realized he had nothing to say, so his lips quickly fell into a line and he shook his head, pretty much running away from Jenny and her persistent stare as he walked into the station. 
He had hoped she would leave him alone about it, that some criminal would change her focus, but much to his dismay, she followed him and she had this knowing look that reminded him of when a mother knew her son had a crush on the pretty girl at school. And at his age, he absolutely did not like that idea at all. 
“Okay, can you not?” He finally stopped and turned around to look at her, only to find that look intensifying along with a small grin and her hands on her hips. 
“What?”
“Can you not look at me like that?” 
She had to hold back a laugh, “Like what?”
Beau rolled his eyes, his head falling to the side with annoyance as he let out a sigh, “Like you know some embarrassing secret.” 
“Well it’s not a secret, you like her, and everyone has noticed by now.” She pointed out with a shrug like it was a simple fact. Beau once again opened his mouth to argue, but his lips simply parted, no actual rebuttal coming out, which only made Jenny snicker even more. “See, for once in your life you’re actually speechless.” 
“Y’know what,” He clicked his tongue, not wanting to be ridiculed further, “I don’t think this is somethin’ we should be discussing at the station. We actually have work to do, y'know, catch criminals and whatnot, so if we could just drop the subject.” He made a gesture with his hand, hoping the shade of pink that he could feel dusting across his freckled face wasn’t noticeable. 
“You know, considering how much you love to talk, one would think you would’ve asked her out by now,” She continued, earning her a small glare from Beau, which only made her chuckle. “She’d probably say yes, she’s so into you.”
Beau opened his mouth to disagree, but quickly closed his mouth when the words sunk in. He stood still for a second as he contemplated the idea of you actually liking him, as more than just a friend that was. He thought about the way you would smile at him whenever he talked to you about his daughter, the way you would burst into this cute giggle when he complimented your sweet touch, or how your eyes always seemed to light up when he would walk into your bakery. He thought about it. He smiled at the idea. But then again, you were sweet by nature, so maybe all of those things were just that, your sweet nature and nothing more right? He would just be making a fool of himself by asking you out. Surely, someone as pretty as you was already spoken for. Somehow he hadn't dared to ask. 
“She’s not into me. We're just friends. Just like you and me are friends, and just how Cassie and I are friends. There’s nothin’ more to it.” He finally responded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Jenny. But you didn’t need detective skills to know he didn’t believe that, and neither did she. 
“You don’t look at Cassie or me the way you look at her, and she sure as hell doesn’t look at other people the way she looks at you. I’m not blind, I’ve been around you two.” She pointed out, now her hands folded over his chest and her head tilted. “Just ask her out. It’s that simple.”
Beau mimicked her stance from a few second ago, his hands on his hips as he leaned down to speak to her level, “That ain’t gonna happen. I’m not asking—” As soon as your name slipped from his tongue, he immediately regretted it because a second or two later, he heard the gentle sound of your voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know you were there, he could just tell it was you, the sound of your voice and your sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent being ingrained in his brain by then. 
“You’re not asking me what?” You asked with curiosity and a bit of confusion, having walked into the station a minute prior and having found Jenny and Beau having a conversation, his back to you. 
“Jesus,” Beau breathed out, his face now turning a shade of red as he turned around to face you, but even then he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his pink lips at the sight of you, he couldn’t help the way his chest pounded either. “I wasn’t expecting to see you ‘round here. How’re you doin’ sweetheart?” Despite the fluttering in his stomach, his charm was always ever so present, and especially knowing just how flustered he made you, and this time it was no different. 
“I’m good. I just, y’know, I was testing my new chocolate pecan pie recipe and I thought that maybe you would want to try some?” You bit your lip, motioning to the styrofoam box in your hand. He hadn’t even noticed that. His focus was completely taken by the pretty sundress that fell just above your knees and the glow that radiated over your face, your eyes lighting up with that look he absolutely adored. “I’m sorry, I probably should’ve called first, I thought about you.. That you would really like this pie, ‘cause you like pie and all.” 
“Oh, wow, well that’s awfully kind of you. Thank you,” He smiled, happily taking the box from you, his fingers grazing yours briefly, but it was enough to make you shudder a bit. “And don’t ever apologize for bringing me food, I’ll always welcome anythin’ you give me.” 
A smile replaced the flustered look on your face and you nodded at him, eyes locking with his green ones as you looked up at him. Five, maybe ten seconds went by when you remembered that Jenny was just standing there watching your exchange with Beau. Your eyes landed on her and you laughed awkwardly. 
“I’m sorry, hi Jenny. It’s nice to see you.” You said to her with a smile, which she welcomed, but she looked amused, even more so when she exchanged looks with Beau before she looked back at you. 
“Hey, it’s nice to see you too. We were actually talking about you just now.”
Your eyebrows shot up, and you tilted your head with curiosity, looking between her and the sheriff, “Oh? Nothing bad I hope.”
“Oh, no, no, of course not. Beau was just telling me that he wanted to ask you something.” Beau turned his head in her direction, eyes wide like they were going to pop out if their sockets and a flutter of pink dusted over his cheeks as his lips opened and closed a few times. 
You looked between both of them a bit confused and nervous at the same time, “Oh. Okay, well, what's up?” You asked Beau with a small smile. But the blonde just stared at you, teeth digging into his bottom lip. 
“Okay, I have work to do, so find me when you’re done,” Jenny said to Beau with a tiny grin before she looked at you, “It was nice seeing you.” She gave you a small nod before she disappeared down one of the hallways, leaving you and Beau.
He still hadn't said anything, which worried you since he always had something to say. “Beau?”
Beau was mentally cursing at himself, not understanding why he was having such a difficult time saying such simple words. Deep down he knew you liked him too, but he didn’t want to fuck this up too. He liked you too much, and he didn’t think he could handle anothet disappointment. But as his eyes found yours, always so sweet and so patient, not at all bothered by his indecisiveness, but more so curious and endearing, he just couldn’t keep the words in any longer. 
“What the hell,” He let out a heavy breath, eyes closing for a second before he found your eyes again, his chest pounding and blood rushing to his ears, “Do you wanna go on a date sometime? With me?”
The words left his mouth so fast you barely understood what he was asking you. It took a good second or two for his words to actually sink in. He was starting to get worried and panic flashed through his eyes. And then you smiled, bigger than he had ever seen you smile. 
“Yeah.” Was all you could say in a breath, a smile tugging at your lips.
Beau blew out a breath of relief, a smile of his own forming on his lips, “Yeah?” 
You nodded a bit too quickly, “Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you.” 
“Okay, great.” He laugh softly, resting a hand over his rapidly beating heart. Now he was matching your slightly overbearing enthusiasm, but fuck, how could he not, you were an absolute dream. “How does tomorrow at eight sound?”
You bit your lip, tugging it under your teeth and you fiddled with the hem of your dress, thinking for a second before nodding eagerly, “Sounds great.”
“Eight it is then.” He chuckled, the smile on his lips so big wrinkles formed on the corner of his eyes, which you personally found absolutely adorable.
You chewed on your bottom lip, not being able to hide the smile on your lips as you took a step towards him, “See you at eight sheriff,” You giggled softly as you stood on the tip of your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the heat on his skin matching your own. 
“See ya at eight darlin’” He called out after you as he watched you leave the station, the biggest smile on his face as he mentally thanked Jenny for embarrassing him, and just how much paperwork he was going to make her do for it.
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