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fox-guardian · 2 months

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[ID: An eight page digital comic featuring Sam, Celia, and Alice from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. The characters are all colored with a single color each. Sam is red, Celia is green, and Alice is pink. Sam is a fat Arab man with short curly dark hair, a mustache, and a small goatee, and he is wearing small black earrings, a cardigan, a turtleneck, trousers and loafers. Celia is a taller Korean woman with short dark hair and she is wearing rectangular glasses, piercings including an industrial piercing, an x-shaped earring, and snakebites, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a vest, trousers, and black wrist cuffs. Alice is an even taller white woman with long fluffy hair and crooked teeth, and she is wearing cat eye glasses, three pairs of earrings, snakebites, a flannel shirt, a hoodie tied around her waist, a patchwork skirt, bracelets, and a lanyard.

Sam and Celia are stood at a table covered in papers. Celia urgently turns to Sam. Celia: Alice is coming! She can't catch us researching, we need a diversion, QUICK! How can we make her think we're not doing what we're doing? Sam, shrugging really hard: UHHHH she thinks I have a crush on you?? Celia, sweating, turns back to where Alice is coming from, panicked, and turns back to Sam, shrugging and reaching for him. Celia smiling a bit manically: Yeah, that'll work, sure!

Sam, with Celia's hands grabbing his cardigan: Wait whaAAAA- He is pulled out of frame. Alice walks in: Hey Sam, working hard or hardly woOOOAA She leans on the doorframe as she holds a hand to her chest in shock.

The next panel is rendered with soft pink shadows and "shoujo sparkles" in the now pink background. Sam is sitting on the table holding onto Celia, whose face is buried in his neck as she wraps one arm around his back and the other holds up one of his legs under his knee. Neither of their faces are visible. The rest of the page fades back to gray from there. Sam and Celia look over at Alice, hair ruffled, Sam is now blushing. Sam: ALICE!! He pushes Celia away and they look at each other for a moment, panicked. Sam: It's- .... exactly what it looks like! Celia: Aw, you've caught us! He rests his hands on her shoulders and they both look in opposite directions as though embarrassed. Celia is also blushing lightly. There are red and green neon signs pointing to them reading "Totally Ham-Slammin'" and "GAY! (in an M/F way)" respectively.

Alice looks to be in shock with a vacant expression and a computer pop up over her forehead reading "Alice.exe has stopped responding". In the next panel she is fine again and back to smirking. Alice: WOW SAM, didn't know you had it in you! Now I'm no snitch, so I didn't see anything, BUT- you lovebirds should cut it out before Gwen catches you. Celia and Sam look at each other anxiously, cheeks pressed together as she speaks. Alice: You KNOW she'd tell Lena. Celia, pulling back and smoothing her hair out: Oh, for sure. Sam: Th-Thanks, Alice. Alice: Don't mention it! I'll give you crazy kids a minute to straighten up, TA-TA~ She waves as she leaves.

Sam and Celia listen to her steps fade before going "phew" and finally pulling away from each other, now holding hands at an arms distance. Celia: You alright? That was kinda sudden.... Sam: It's fine! Just a bit caught off guard. Celia: I can't believe she actually bought all of that! Sam: Me either! Works for me, though.

Celia: Did you want to get down- Sam, pulling away suddenly, blushing again: NO! He crosses his legs and looks away sheepishly, scratching his head. Sam: I wanna stay here another minute or so.... Celia, concerned: You sure you're alright? Sam: Yeah! Just, er.... Celia looks at him, confused. Sam, blushing increasingly harder: Ahem. (He folds his hands in his lap politely.) I am not immune to being thrown on a table. Celia, smiling and politely stepping away: AH! .... Noted~

She walks away casually, still smiling. Celia: I'll give you a minute to collect yourself. Sam, head down in his lap, embarrassed: Thanks.... He looks up after she leaves. Sam: Wait. He straightens up, slightly panicked, face entirely red. Sam: What do you mean by "NOTED"?!

end ID]

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i am SO glad this episode didn't entirely debunk the silly headcanon that birthed this comic. initially i wasn't convinced sam actually had a crush so i made this like "well if he didn't before, HE DOES NOW" so.... here's this silly comic thing <3 i just think they're neat <3

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #celia ripley #alice dyer #do sam and celia have a shipname yet. idk.#also i am REALLY proud of the expressions in this one #also also if you see inconsistencies no you don't <3 #also also also i hope the id is good!! still not used to doing comics and stuff but i hope it works!

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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I just think frat Peter could do me raw. CAN WE GET MORE FRAT PETER PLS

ask and you shall recieve!

Exasperated, “what do you mean you don’t have a condom?”

Peter had his hands interlocked behind his neck, they pressed against the bill of his hat and caused it to lift slightly off his forehead. He’s looking at you for the answer, it’s not like you use them, sure, you do use them but not like he does, how are you supposed to keep track?

“I don’t know! I don’t keep count!”

He groans, his hands drop and hit his thighs.

“What about the one in your medicine cabinet?”

You point at him, “used it after the car wash fundraiser.”

A whisper, “fuck.”

Peter chews at his bottom lip, he’s trying to think of where he’s stashed them around your place. He figured he had one here, he always does. He started keeping an emergency stash when you started hooking up, that way he was always prepared. For example, tonight. It wasn’t in his cards to take you home when you asked with clasped hands and batty eyelashes how could he possibly say no?

Still in his open flannel, a pure white tee poked through. Peter’s hands raced through your nightstand, each drawer came up empty. Which in turn made him ask where you put them, where you then replied you didn’t have any, which appalled him.

You tried to help, “what about the one in your car?”

You snapped your fingers, you both answered at the same time with a hidden glance, “drive in.”

Peter’s eyes lit up, “roommate?”

“Gay.”

He ripped his hat off his head and scratched at his curls before replacing the cap, “goddamn it.”

Peter feigns upset towards you, “this is your fault.”

You press a hand to your chest, “me?”

He nods, doubles down, “if you didn’t look so fucking tempting all the time.”

You scoff, “oh please, it’s not my fault you can’t keep count.”

“You should’ve kept count, they were here!”

“You use them!”

Peter fights with a smile, “you do too!”

“Sure, but they don’t go on my dick!”

Peter breathes in heavily, the last thing he wants to do is leave to go get condoms. He cockblocked himself.

You gasp so hard he nearly jumps, “wallet!” You’re proud of the thought, you’ve just saved the night.

Peter grimaces, “Ethan.”

Your turn, “goddamn it.”

Silence.

Peter is awfully cute. You couldn’t stop yourself from begging him to take you home from his own party, and he was just as willing to bring you, he’s the one that dragged you out the front door. Not to mention you have been hooking up for months, and you are on birth control. The most important thing was that you trusted him more than anything.

Like a pouty toddler he grumbles, he over exaggerates his movements. Car keys scraping off your side table, a hand slapping his wallet back in his back pocket. You watch with confusion.

“Where are you going?”

Peter clicks his tongue, “condoms?”

You nod slightly, he’s downright delicious in that outfit and you couldn’t want him more.

Peter is awfully cute and you trust him.

“Or I mean…”

You trail, Peter waits.

“We don’t use one?”

Car keys hit the floor, his hat goes sailing.

“Say less.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #my writing #frat!peter

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hundredandsix · 11 months

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loser!ellie headcanons

✩ I haven't been able to get loser!ellie out of my head so...here we go. I love that this is basically the same thing as canon!ellie. Slutty thoughts at the end so mdni (18+) ✩

✩ I don't think she would be the first to make a move. She would do little, very subtle things like hold the door open for you and then panic because oh no that was too much! You're going to know!

✩ She would think she's being obvious, and she is, but not for the reasons she believes. Let's just say her brushing her hand against yours is not nearly as obvious as the way she follows you around and the way your smile makes her face turn red all the way to her ears.

✩ Speaking of her following your around, she is so unintentionally clingy, even before you get together. You would get up to go to the bathroom and when she realizes where you're going, she tries to play it off like she wasn't about to trail after you. When you bring it up to her, she's genuinely confused because no, she is not following you around on purpose. She would never do that.

✩ It would take her forever to realize you're into her, but when she finally picks up on it, that confirmation gives her confidence. She wouldn't be as afraid to make her feelings more apparent.

✩ Has such terrible rizz that it somehow comes full circle and makes her even more charming.

✩ She LOVES bossy, confident women. Ellie is not afraid to ask for what she wants, and she is definitely not the type of girl that would have you ask the waitress questions for her. But there's something about a woman that could put her in her place that she loves.

✩ At first, Ellie is always rubbing the back of her neck or playing with her fingers when she talks to you. She doesn't want to look like a dork, but she can't help it because you make her so nervous.

✩ She's literally the definition of a golden retriever masc. She's got the beat-up truck (that's actually Joel’s, but you don't have to know that), an outrageous amount of flannels, and carabiners to provide it.

✩ When she gets really excited about something, her brain moves faster than her mouth. She'll fumble her words and stutter. She gets really annoyed when this happens and has to take a deep breath and start over.

✩ She loves to rant about her interests to you. Don't you dare seem like you're not listening because she'll get really quiet and upset.

✩ I could see her having issues with being treated like "the man" in past relationships. It confuses her at first because she wants to protect her partner and care for them, but she also wants to feel that same love and desire toward her. She would be so drawn to you if you don't treat her any differently because of the way she dresses or presents herself. Obviously, she presents as more masculine, but she still wants to be treated like a woman.

✩ She has sooo many playlists. There are some about you of course but she also has some that are so highly specific. When you go on your first date, she has a playlist for picking you up and two different ones for dropping your off, depending on how it went. She definitely has the classic "depressed gay longing" playlist.

✩ She has exactly two pictures on her Instagram. One is her and Joel on his birthday and the other is a selfie she uses as her profile pic for everything.

✩ When you follow her back on Instagram, she loses her shit and starts fantasizing about what it would be like to be with you. She's screenshotting every selfie you put on your story and thinking about them in ways that are not very appropriate.

✩ She's the queen of "this reminded me of you" and will bring you literal rocks because "it looks like the whale from the aquarium we saw last week." Whether it's modern!ellie buying you little trinkets or jackson!ellie bringing you things from her patrols, she loves seeing you in all parts of her life. Even if you're not physically there with her.

✩ I love the pages of her journal we get to see in the game because they show us peeks at her internal monologue. They show us she is still very much the eccentric, starry-eyed girl we see in the first game. She's learned to hide it. Maybe to fit in or maybe because she's learned that wearing your heart on your sleeve can hurt. It's literally canon that she writes about her romantic feelings in her journal, so I think she would have little drawings and blurbs about you. She for sure has a stupid grin on her freckled face as she draws the highlights of your eyes and maybe even the dip of your hips. It's the only way she can think of to get you out of her head.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✩ She's an ass girl. She loves every part of you and will literally kiss your eyelashes if you let her, but she has to physically hold herself back when you bend over.

✩ I can't think of who posted it, but I remember reading something about Ellie fake fucking you when you're bent over and she would totally do that at the absolute worst times. You'd swat her away and look at her with a raised eyebrow, but there's no stopping her because she thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

✩ The first time you kiss is an out-of-body experience for her. She's panicking because she didn't think she'd ever get this far. She wants to touch you but she doesn't know where or what you would like, so her arms are stuck at her sides. She's 🧍until you grab her hands and move them to your waist.

✩ Has a huge obsession with your neck. Loves to leave marks if you'll let her. Will come up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist while leaving wet kisses all down your neck.

✩ I could see her wanting to be both the big and little spoon. It depends on the day and the context. When she's the big spoon she'll jokingly hug you so tight you can barely breathe and wrap all of her limbs around you like she's trying to suffocate you. When she's the little spoon, she likes it when you play with her hair.

✩ Is an absolute slut for you playing with her hair. She's an insomniac and it helps her fall asleep. When you're arm gets tired and you want to stop, she'll whine and pull your hands back to her head.

✩ She would be more comfortable topping and doesn't want to admit that she likes to bottom just as much. She's a service top that would do anything to make you feel good.

✩ Girly is so shy when she bottoms. She'll get all blushy and tries to cover her face with her hands/arms. She loves it, but it feels so foreign to her to have someone's sole focus be on her.

✩ Loves eye contact, especially when your mouth is on her. If you look up at her from between her legs while giving her head, she has trouble thinking straight.

✩ Likes it when you pull her hair during sex and will groan for you to pull harder. Just move her wherever you want her because she thinks it's the hottest thing ever.

✩ I think she'd use a strap if you wanted her to, but it's not her instinct to grab for that. She rather you come apart on her fingers or mouth.

✩ If you wanted to use a strap on her, I think she would let you, but again, it's not something she would ask for. To Ellie, It would be more about pleasing you than her.

✩ Absolutely passes tf out after sex. She always tries to stay awake, but as soon as both of you are cleaned up, she's dozing off and letting out cute little snores.

✩ In summary, Ellie is the switchiest switch to ever exist and I will be taking no criticism on this

#hundredandsix #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #lesbian #tlou #tlou smut #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie x y/n #jackson ellie #bottom!ellie #switch!ellie #loser!ellie

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strgrlxox · 1 year

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ꗃ thinking abt ellie williams, and how dating her would be. ¸ ❞

she’d never admit to it . . . but she is clingy as fuck!! the only way i can rly describe it is tactile . . . kisses you all the time (holds your face tenderly afterwards, rubbing circles on your cheeks while she smiles at you), her head lives in the crook of your neck istg, kisses your tears away, her hands are forever interlocked with yours, will stand behind you and rest her chin on your shoulder, uses you as personal pillow and will lay on your (lap, stomach, ass), has fallen asleep on you too many times to count.

can’t sleep without you . . . so if you aren’t already in bed by the time she goes to sleep she will drag you away from anything you’re doing to bring you to bed + if you wake up before (which you do like 60% of the time) she will not let you go until she’s awake (literally has a death grip). whines like a baby if you stop cuddling her

hates arguing with you . . . obviously it’s gonna happen like it does in any healthy relationship but she will avoid it at all costs. kisses you and apologizes at the end over every minor dispute.

makes you wear her flannels/hoodies/jackets. “i don’t want you to get sick” is her excuse but she just loves seeing you in her clothes (+ she does want you to stay healthy and warm)

CASUAL INTIMACY IS HER THINGG 😩 showers/bathes with you any chance she gets (defo gets offended if you shower without her). one time she wasn’t home yet so you just showered without her and when you left the bathroom, she was sitting on the couch looking at you like: ⤵

if your hands get cold, she’ll let you put them under her shirt cause she is a walking furnace

not to sound creepy or anything . . . but she is always staring at you 😭 it’s like as soon as she knows you’re in a room with her everything else goes away. when you first started dating, she’d get embarrassed if you caught her, but after a while of being together all her shame goes away. you’d be all “stop staring, it's creepy.” and she’d laugh and shake her head. “i’m admiring and how could i not admire such a beautiful girl like you?”

loves your voice ! hearing you say her name makes her so giddy 😭

gets jealous so easily but she’d never admit to it ;; because you’re the object of her every affection and to her you are absolutely perfect, she thinks everyone else will think the same.

ellie’s a little insecure :/ craves your reassurance because she doesn’t think she’s good enough for you and doesn’t understand why you’re with her

draws you like it’s all her hands know how to draw 🤭 all her songs are about you (she’s actually so romantic and poetic too it’s so painfully gay omgg)

loves it when you wash/style her hair. lets you do whatever you want to do with it since she trusts you to do something she’ll like

hair scratches are her weakness 😩 after long days she’ll come to you all sheepish and fiddling with her hands “can you like…play with my hair? please?”

#ꗃ%ellie bellieˑ༄#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams fluff #ꗃ%jos library⤷✰

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arlana-likes-to-write · 4 months

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Christmas Everyday

Summary: Yelena hates the cold, nothing good has happened to her when the temperatures dropped. When an assignment takes her to Boston, MA, and she stumbles into a cafe to escape the bitter weather, maybe the cold isn't as bad as she thought.

Warning: gun shot, gun shot injury, mention of HYDRA, Red Room and killing, blood, original character death, fluff and angst, cannon type violence, gay panic (lol)

Word count: 4.1k

Yelena hated the cold. It reminded her of Russian winters, fake Christmas’ in Ohio, and her time in New York when she was hired to kill Clint Barton. She wished she was someplace warmer, but work brought her to Boston. It was snowing lighting. Yelena walked down the busy sidewalk and maneuvered through the crowd. She had some time before her stakeout and wanted something warm to drink. Picking a random cafe, she opened the door and was surrounded by warmth. She almost moaned at the break from the cold.

The cafe wasn’t busy. A few tables were occupied by patrons working on their laptops or holding a book. She noticed there was a small library in the corner, but what made Yelena cringe was the Christmas decorations all over the place. There were decorations for the holidays that took place in December: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa. It was like something out of a Hallmark movie.

Sighing, she stepped up to the corner. “I’ll be right with you.” A voice called from the back. That was fine. She needed time to think and figure out what she wanted. “Hot chocolate and a banana muffin for Lindsay,” you put the two items down and wished the girl that came to collect them a ‘Happy Holiday.’ “Hi, sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Yelena couldn’t help but stare at you, a red beanie on your head and dressed in black jeans and a flannel. It was 9 am, and the amount of energy you had was intimidating.

“Black coffee and a chocolate croissant,” she ordered. You didn’t bat an eye at her accent.

“A name for the order.”

“Kate,” the blonde answered without hesitation. Giving her real name with her target being so close would be stupid.

“Alright, Kate,” you smiled. “That will be $7.25,” Yelena handed you the exact change and slipped a few extra bills into the tip jar. “Your order will be right up.” You removed the croissant from the display case and put it in the oven. Next, you poured her coffee.

“Are you the only employee?” Yelena found herself asking. There was no line, so she figured it was okay to make light conversation. You shook your head.

“I usually work the most, but there are two others, but everyone called in sick,” you laughed. “So you are stuck with little old me,” you bagged the croissant and placed the two items. “One black coffee and chocolate croissant for Kate,” the blonde took her order. “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you,” Yelena turned to leave the little shop, and when she opened the pastry bag, she saw the croissant she ordered and a small blueberry muffin. Yelena was amazed you put it in there without her noticing. Smiling, she took a bit and continued on her way.

She had no intention of returning to the cafe, but she did. Every day before she started her assignment, she would enter and be greeted with soft Christmas music and your warm smile. It was the same order: black coffee and a chocolate croissant. Every time you put something extra in the bag. Yelena never mentioned it, and neither did you. Where there wasn’t a line of customers, Yelena asked you questions about your life in the city, and in return, you asked your fair share. She told you she was in the town for business, which you joked and said sounded ‘sketchy.’

Yelena should have put an end to it. It was dangerous and stupid, but there was something about you and the small cafe that kept her wanting more.

The familiar smell soothed the ache in Yelena’s body as she opened the door to the cafe. It was quiet; only one other person was there, and he was reading a newspaper in the corner. You looked up from whipping the counter. “Missed you yesterday. I was worried my favorite customer skipped town and didn’t bother saying goodbye.” Yelena chuckled.

“I slept in,” she said, approaching the counter. What she did was drink too much to dig out the bullet out of her stomach and pass out. She slept into one. Your eyes flickered across her body and landed on her face.

“Are you okay?” You asked. Yelena nodded.

“I just feel like I got hit by a bus,” you chuckled and glanced at your coworker. Her name was Jennifer. On busier days, she cooked while you handed the counter.

“Jen, can you watch the counter for a second?” She agreed. Yelena watched you curiously as you rounded the corner and grabbed her hand.

“What-?” Yelena let herself be dragged to the back of the kitchen and into a cleaning closet. “What the fuck?” She asked as you pushed her down into a chair.

“Just shut up and listen,” you grabbed a first aid kit and knelt in front of her. Your warm hands pushed up her shirt. The stitches she did ripped. How the hell did she not notice? “That guy in the corner when you walked in,” you opened an alcohol pad and cleaned up around the wound. “He’s been here the past few days asking about you.” Fuck. She was being so stupid. A low hiss escaped her mouth when you pressed an alcohol pad. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I haven’t told him much, but he’s been,” you paused. “Aggressive.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed.

“Has he hurt you?” You shook your head.

“No, but you need to leave. There is a back door,” a gunshot filled the quiet cafe, and you both stood up quickly. Yelena almost hit her head against yours. “You need to go now.”

“Come with me. It’s not safe,” she saw the hesitation pass through your eyes.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I’ll stall him and see if they are okay up front.” Another gunshot. You opened the door to the closet. “Just go,” Yelena wanted to go in and take the man down, but with her condition, she would lose.

“Don’t die on me,” you chuckled. “I’ll come back,” Yelena promised. Promises were dangerous in her line of work. They were uncertain and unpredictable, and if broken, they left both parties in pain. You nodded, offering her a kind smile. It was almost like you didn’t believe her. Another shot rang out, causing Yelena to look away from you and run to the door. It led to a back alley, and the cold air caused goosebumps to form on her skin.

It was unlike her to run away from a fight. She was trained to face it head-on but ran from this one. When she was a reasonable distance away, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I like to report a robbery in progress.”

You steadied your heart rate and walked back to the front of the store with your hands raised. The man was standing in the middle of the room, the gun pointed at you when you appeared. “Well, look who finally joined the party.” His voice was laced with a Russian accent. Unlike the blonde you knew, it did not provide warmth, but a chill went down your spine. “Where is the blonde bitch?” You saw Jennifer standing in the corner, unharmed but terrified. A few more customers must have entered when you were helping the blonde; two of them were on the ground, not moving, with a pool of blood forming around them. “Answer me!”

“Gone,” you replied. “She went out the back.” He laughed, shaking his head. His laughter brought you back to a dark part of your past, and you focused on staying in the present.

“Why are you constantly getting in my way?”

“Why are you after her?” You questioned.

“Your girlfriend killed my boss,” he answered. That was not surprising. Wait, did he call her my girlfriend, you thought?

“She’s not-” you stopped yourself. “Look, I called the cops. They’ll be here any second. You have enough time to leave before they show up.” He laughed again and began to pace, side to side. You saw a knife on the counter, and while the man was muttering to himself, you grabbed it and placed it in your pant pocket.

“Do you know who I work for?” You had no clue and honestly couldn’t care less. Since you were a kid, you learned that someone or a group had to be in power, and if the top dog was displaced, someone was ready to take over. It was exhausting, and you found it useless to evolve yourself in the ‘political’ undertakings of the city you now called home. Your silence annoyed him. “I’m going to kill you, then I’ll find that Black Widow and slice her open.” You chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

“I have a feeling she won’t be that easy to kill,” you answered, especially if she was a Black Widow. “And fun fact: I won’t be that easy either.”

You jumped over the counter, which separated you and him. He missed his first shot and landed the second in your stomach. The pain was nothing to you since you’d been shot before, and you wondered if this would be your last. You pulled the knife out of your pocket, used his hesitation to reload, and kicked the pistol out of his hand. Whoever this man worked for, you figured he was on the lower end of the organization because his hand-to-hand combat was shit. He was using this opportunity to prove himself.

It was easy to close the distance on him and stab the knife in his stomach. You pressed forward until his back was against the bookshelf, and blood began to pool in his mouth. Once he stopped struggling, you let his body fall to the ground. Besides your breathing and the distant sound of sirens, the cafe was silent. You stumbled backward; a pained groan left your lips as you put pressure on the gunshot wound. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” Jennifer said. Her footsteps rounded the corner, and she had a white towel in her hand. “That was insane!” She pressed the towel to your stomach. “Are you okay? God, of course you aren’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m okay,” you said. Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“You’re a badass,” she said. “I kind of figured that about you.” You leaned your head back on the wall. You killed someone. It was in self-defense, but you ended a life. You wanted out of this life, and of course, a blonde Black Widow would pull you back into it.

A knock on your apartment door caused you to look up from the boiling pot. Since you were shot five days ago, you were still heavily restricted on movement. Hell, the cafe owners refused to let you go back to work until a doctor cleared you, which was for another two weeks. So you’ve kept to yourself in your apartment, surviving on grocery store delivery services and movies on TV. Another knock caused you to sigh and walk over to it, not bothering to put on a shirt. You’ve only worn loose tank tops and sweatpants. It was easy, simple, and required little movement. You glanced at the peephole and quickly opened the door when you saw the blonde. “Hi,” she smiled. You pulled her into your apartment and closed the door. “Well, buy me dinner before you drag me around like that,” she teased.

“I can’t believe you are still here,” you said. “Is it safe?” She sighed, took off her winter jacket, and hung it up on the hook. Instead of answering, she walked into your kitchen.

“What were you cooking?” She asked.

“Pasta, but it can wait,” the blonde gave you a pointed look.

“Sit,” she put her bag on the counter and washed her hands. “You got shot for me. The less I can do is cook dinner.” You had no energy to argue, so you grabbed your water bottle and the bottle of ibuprofen. The hospital prescribed you more potent pain medication, but those scared you. “To answer your question, yes, it is safe. The group that man was a part of won’t bother you or the cafe again.”

“Did you kill them?” You asked. The water began to boil, and she put the pasta in. “I don’t mind,” you said. It would be hypercritically if you did. “Just curious.” She turned to face you, leaning against the counter. Her green eyes scanned over you.

“You handled the situation at the cafe well,” you chuckled, scratching the bag off your head.

“Not well enough. I did get shot.” She smirked.

“Who are you?” She asked. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

“I feel like I should be asking you that very same question,” she chuckled, turned to grab her bag, and pulled out a file. The blonde threw it in front of you. With shaky hands, you opened it. It was everything HYDRA did to you and everything they forced you to do. You so desperately wanted to forget that part of your life, so when you escaped, you got a new identity and a mundane job as a barista. “You’re a Black Widow, right?” You wanted to confirm what that man told you. She nodded her head. “They would always tell us about you and compare your conditions to ours. They kept saying it could be worse.”

“I bet both were horrible,” she mumbled. You nodded. “I heard about you. HYDRA’s Shadows. They said you died.”

“It’s because I did,” she drained the pasta and placed it back in the pot with the sauce. “The Shadow died, and she was reborn as a cafe barista.” She put a bowl in front of you with a fork. “What’s your real name? Because I know it’s not Kate.”

“Yelena,” she answered. Honestly, you were surprised she gave it to you. “I’m sorry for involving you and your coworker. I should have realized they were following me.” You shrugged. It was unfortunate that two of your regulars were killed, but you knew the situation could have been worse. “You got out of this life,” she said. “I shouldn’t have dragged you back into it.”

“Why are you still in it?” Yelena looked around your apartment instead of answering.

“It looks like Christmas threw up in here,” she said. “I’m guessing you decorated the cafe.” You spun in the chair to look at your decorations.

“I love Christmas,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder. “I wish it could be Christmas every day.” She scuffed, and you turned back around. Yelena was stirring the pasta in the bowl. “How long are you going to stay?” She sighed, moving her shoulders up and down.

“Not sure.”

“Stay with me then,” her head snapped to look at you. “Look, you clearly don’t have any other pressing plans, and I did get shot for you; you kind of owe me.” She remained silent, but a smile crept to her lips. Celebrate the holidays with me.” The blonde huffed.

“I’d have to go get my dog.”

“I love dogs,” and you did. “We can go ice skating and watch Christmas movies.” You could convince her to walk away from the life she was living. Even when she smiled, she seemed sad.

“I like hot chocolate,” Yelena said. “We better drink it every night if I agree to this.” With a roll of your eyes, you held out your hand.

“You got yourself a deal, Yelena,” she smirked and took your hand. You were surprised at how soft her hand was against yours. Her skin was cold, and you enjoyed how her hand felt in yours.

Christmas Eve

“Are we wearing these?” Yelena asked, emerging from your bathroom in the plaid PJs you got for her, you, and Fanny. The American Akita ran over to her owner. “Awe, you look so cute,” the blonde cooed over her dog. It’s been over a week since Yelena came into your life, and you filled it with everything Christmas and holiday-themed. It didn’t take a genius to notice Yelena’s aversion to the Holiday, but you wanted to give her a Christmas she would remember. So you went ice skating, drank your weight in hot chocolate, baked cookies, and watched the cheesy Christmas movies. It was amazing. You forgot how enjoyable life could be when you had someone else to enjoy it.

“Hey, what about me? I’m the reason she looks cute,” the blonde straightened up to look at you.

“You get no compliments since you are why I’m in this,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just get your ass over here. Your hot chocolate is getting cold.” You heard her run over to sit down next to you. Fanny made her way to the dog bed you got for her. Yelena began to load up her hot chocolate with toppings- she had such a sweet tooth. It was disgusting sometimes. “For the record,” you said. “I think you look cute.” The blush that covered her cheeks was your favorite color on her. As Christmas approached, you weren’t hiding how you felt about the blonde. You openly flirted with her, doing anything to see her blush. Sometimes, she would give it back, come up with her flirty comment, and take you by surprise. Then you thought your friendship with her would take the next step, but she was the one to pull away. It was easy to fall for Yelena. She was witty, beautiful, and understood the horrors of your past. She looked at the world with such childlike wonder and curiosity that you couldn’t help but fall in love with her. You knew you had to be patient, but you feared that she would pack up and leave as soon as the holiday was over.

“What movie are we watching?” She asked, sipping on her hot drink.

“Home Alone,” you answered. It was your favorite movie, so you waited for Christmas Eve to show them to her. You turned the volume up and pressed play.

It wasn’t long into the movie when you noticed something was off with Yelena. Usually, she would be making comments about the plot or the characters. It made you laugh and added to the movies you already loved. Quiet Yelena was never good. She was so lost in her head. You paused the movie. She wasn’t fazed that it stopped. “Hey,” the sound of your voice snapped her out of it. “Where did you go just now?” She sighed and grabbed your hand. You learned early on that Yelena needed physical touch to be grounded. You woke her up from a nightmare, and you were startled when she grabbed onto you. She played with the bracelet on your wrist.

“You asked me a question that I didn’t answer. Do you remember what you asked me?” You had no idea. You asked the blonde many questions about her parents, Natasha, and her life. Some she answered while the others were answered with only silence. She smiled softly. “It was the night I came over and made pasta.” It clicked. She knew you remembered by the way your hand tensed up. “Ask me again.”

“Why are you still in it?” A life that was covered in red. Red was blood, violence, and anger. For the longest time, red was a color you avoided. The simplest of things would trigger a spiral for you. Instead of staring at a ketch bottle, it was a pool of blood from a bottle you used to smash against a man’s head. A no-name man you killed because he was in your way. But he had a name, a family that had to mourn and bury his body.

“Because I have no one to pull me out of it,” she turned to look at you. Her green eyes were glossy with tears. “This life is all I have, so what do I do if I leave?” You used your free hand to wipe a tear down her cheek.

“Let me pull you out of it,” you whispered and moved to sit before her. Her legs were crossed, and you undid them so they rested on either side of you. “And you live.” You answered. “You find out who you are without their claws in you. It takes time, and it’s messy, but I will help you. If you let me,” you raised the hand that she held onto and kissed her palm. There was a slight hitch in her throat. You placed her hand on her cheek, and a shiver went down your spine as her fingers drew shapes on your skin.

“I’ve dreamed of opening a dog rescue,” she said. “I like dogs.” You laughed. Your neighbor had a corgi puppy, no more than a year old. You offered to take the pup on walks now and again, and the blonde was in love with it.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” again, the blush covered her cheeks as she guided your face closer to hers. “You’ll have to leave Valentina,” you said against her lips.

“Will you help?”

“Always,” you said and connected your lips with hers. The kiss was slow. She tasted sweet from the hot chocolate decorated with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles. The taste was so Yelena it made you sigh into the kiss and wrap your hand into her blonde hair. She pulled away first; your chest was heaving at the relation. You kissed her. You finally knew what it felt like to have your lips on hers.

“Shit,” she whispered. You laughed, head falling on her shoulder. You kissed the skin you could reach and felt her shiver against her. “Come on, we have a movie to watch.” There were other things you wanted to do besides watching a movie you’ve seen a thousand times, but you pulled away from her and sat back down. Surprisingly, she took the remote and cuddled up against you. You put your arm around her, pulled the blanket over the both of you and stole a kiss as the movie began to play. It was hard to pay attention when Yelena was so close to you. “Will you help me get away from her?” She softly asked. You hummed, moving your fingers through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, I will,” you said. “Don’t think about it right now,” you saw the stress in her body and rubbed her temples. “No stress on Christmas. It’s against the rules.” She chuckled, grabbing your hand and interlocking her fingers with yours.

“Merry Christmas, detka,”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You knew very little about Valentina Allegra de Fontaine besides that she was the Director of the CIA with hundreds of contacts. It would be hard, borderline impossible, but you realized who would do anything for the Black Widow in your arms. Yelena turned to look up at you; you were already looking down at her.

“You are thinking hard, dorogoy; I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” you chuckled and tickled her sides. She laughed, and the sound was music to your ears. She sat up, swung her leg over you, and sat on your lap. Your eyes widened at the sudden action as your hands went to her hips. “Is this okay?” You nodded, unable to find your voice. The movie turned to white noise. “Tell me what’s wrong. I thought you said no stress on Christmas.” You smiled, and she ran her fingertips over the lines on your forehead. You sat up more, wrapped your arm around her waist, and rested your head on her shoulder.

“I’d do anything for you, Yelena Belova,” you whispered, kissing her cheek. “Anything to see you happy.” You felt her hands on your head, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t lose yourself for me.”

“I already got shot for you; what’s another one?” You teased, but the blonde frowned. “I won’t,” you promised instead. She placed her hand over your heart.

“Tell me,” she said, looking at where her hand rested on your chest. “How did you keep your heart.” You hummed, not fully understanding her question. “You kept your heart good after everything they put you through. How?” You sighed and placed your hand on top of hers.

“I had to keep it good so I could give it to someone,” her mouth hung open.

“I’ll keep it safe for you.” She said, kissing your cheek and then your lips.

“And I’ll keep yours.”

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x female!reader #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #yelena belove x you #yelena belove x reader

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alottiegoingon · 23 days

Text

flannel

summary: where shauna catches you wearing her flannel

shauna shipman x fem!reader (all characters are aged up + in college)

warnings: established relationship, pre-crash, minimal usage of bad words, yellowjackets but in college, NSFW content!!! (MDNI), fingering, dom!shauna, sub!reader, probably a bunch of english mistakes and bad writing, not proofread

Shauna’s birthday was coming up and for the past three months you have been struggling. You and Shauna were officially dating for almost six months now and you wanted to give her something special to let her know how much you loved her. That’s why you decided to skip practice today and go straight to her house after class by making up some silly excuse. You knew that she was smart and wouldn't believe you at all but you were willing to take the risk. As time was running low, you decided on the one thing that you knew that Shauna would love.

Flannels. She would wear them everywhere and at any occasion. You could track her from miles away just by looking for a girl wearing oversized flannel shirts and, honestly, it was one of your favorite things about her. You could worry about other small gifts later, but now you were determined to find the exact size of her clothes and that’s why you were standing in front of her house, waiting for her mom to open the door for you.

You didn’t want Shauna to find out, you wanted to be a surprise. That’s what you told her mother when you called her the other day, explaining the situation and practically begging her to let you sneak into her room while her daughter was out. Gladly, you were a sweetheart. At least this is what her parents called you. Always a sweet angel, a good influence for their daughter.

Now, you were stepping into your girlfriend’s room. The light from the string lights in the wall by her bed was on, giving the bedroom a dark pinkish tone along with the small lampshade. Taking a quick glance, you could see thousands of pictures of Shauna with her friends, especially her best friend Jackie, and of you two hanging on her wall and in portraits by her desk. In a blink of an eye, you remind yourself of the reason why you were skipping practice and would probably get your ass beaten by Jackie tomorrow, you had no time to lose. Rushing into Shauna’s closet, you get in, not taking longer than a second to find what you were looking for.

The amount of variety of colors in the shirts made you giggle as you were reaching out for one of the many to check the size on the small tag. It wasn’t a surprise that it was only one size apart from yours and to be fair, you always wondered about how comfortable it would be to wear them. Shauna would probably take hours to come home since Jackie was not much of a compassionate soul when it came to soccer and would always make the girls almost faint of exhaustion by the time practice was over. You had nothing to worry about.

You smell Shauna’s perfume lingering in the air as you put on one of her flannels and button it up. It only made you miss her more now, distracting your brain from the actual reason you were in her room. You look in the mirror close to the bed and you finally understand why she loves this so much. It’s cute, comfortable and it surprisingly matches with the pants and shirt that you were wearing with no effort.

“Are you in the closet?” Your heart almost stopped beating and you feel your blood turning to ice in your veins as a very familiar voice reverberate through the room. You turn around with the speed of light to find Shauna standing, leaning against the doorframe and staring at you, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. The seriousness in her posture and even the slight fear that would leak through her intense stare was being betrayed by a goofy smirk on the corner of her lips.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find a better way to tell you.” You make use of the most soothing tone you can achieve, exaggerating a pout as you approach your girlfriend. “Shauna, I’m gay.” Your pout fades away as quickly as it started, being replaced by a cheeky smirk on your lips, and your girlfriend lets out a soft chuckle. You feel Shauna’s arms gently embracing you, sliding through your sides and getting tighter around your waist. Like an automatic response, you wrap your arms around her neck, both of you failing to hold silly smiles.

“I thought you were sick but… Apparently you were just in the mood for stealing your girlfriend’s clothes?” She teases and you can even notice a bit of a flirting in her voice. She looks away from your eyes, dragging her attention to your body and how her flannel looked slightly bigger on you, gracefully falling from your shoulders to the middle of your thighs. You, however, do not look away from her and you see her big dilating pupils glistening differently. She loses her arms around your body to unbutton the first ones, catching your attention. “What are you doing here?” She insists as you remain quiet.

“Waiting for you…” You shrug. As usual, you couldn’t hold the eye contact when you lied poorly and Shauna noticed it at the exact same second. “Waiting for me in my bedroom instead of going to practice and leave together?” She lifted one eyebrow, trying her best to not smile. It was kind of amusing to her how you had such a bad time lying and how easy it was for her to figure it out. “You are such a bad liar.”

“I know! It’s so hard!” You exhale in relief. It’s not like you were a good liar and would be able to keep the lie for much longer. It wasn’t on your plans to reveal your idea but Shauna was smart. Probably way smarter than you, and would have figured out if you were lying again. “I was trying to find your size to buy you another flannel. I know you love them and I just…” You stop.

You feel the warmth of Shauna’s hands going down from your shoulders to your biceps and giving it a gentle squeeze in a reassuringly way, subtly asking you to continue.

“I don’t know what I should do for your birthday, alright? I can’t find anything good enough, it has to be perfect! I’m a terrible girlfriend.” You grumble and the next thing you hear is Shauna’s surprise scoff.

“What?!” She doesn’t even let you consider saying something else. She had to intervene and stop this nonsense. “Listen. I don’t need a perfect gift.” She innocently mocks you while mimicking your desperate need to give her something flawless. Her hands reach up, her palms resting on your cheeks, cupping your face and forcing you to look into her eyes. You almost get lost in them, like always.

“I literally managed to date the prettiest girl in Wiskayok High, this is the best gift that I could ever receive. The only thing I want is to spend the day with you, you idiot.” She murmurs and you see her cheeks getting a new color, a light shade of pink. No matter how hard it was for her to show her feelings, she would always push her limits and face her fear, eager to let you know how important and loved you were and you appreciated her effort a lot.

For a moment you find yourself wanting to look away, too flustered to not break the eye contact, but you can’t miss your girlfriend’s reddish face. “Fine. I just wanted to give you something special.” You whine and see Shauna’s expression change ever so slight as she suddenly breaks the eye contact and shifts her attention to your body. “Maybe I have something in mind.”

In less than five minutes you were lying in Shauna’s bed with her on top of you as her lips were busy marking the skin of your neck. “You know that your mom is home, right?” You ask, running out of breath already, just to hear a muffled attempt of your girlfriend to pronounce slurred words. “I locked the door, it’s fine.”

You figured what Shauna’s idea of a perfect gift was when you were about to take off her flannel and she immediately stopped you. She was begging you to let her fuck you while you wear it and you could swear that her pupils got bigger than usual.

You made a pitiful sound as her teeth dig into your neck, claiming you and brushing her warm tongue right on top of the recent wound. Your hands were on her head, fingers getting lost between her dark hair, as you were nearly melting under her. Shauna, on the other hand, was fierce and while doing a very good job on your neck, her right hand was exploring your upper body. The coldness of her fingertips made you squeak when she got under your shirt and slowly scratched your stomach. Soon she was already playing with your nipples, pinching and squeezing as much as she wanted to and it was driving you crazy already. “Shauna-“ You tried to catch her attention and beg her to just fuck you but she interrupts you.

“Patience.” Her tone is firm as she mutters her words, this time leaving your neck alone to give your lips lots of quick pecks as a way to shut you up. It worked every time. On her knees between your legs, she takes her time at finishing unbuttoning her flannel that you were wearing, staring at you intensely. She lifts the cute white shirt that you were wearing underneath up to your chest and gets down on you. Her face is inches away from your skin and you feel your clit throbbing as you anticipate everything in your head.

You were forced to cover your own mouth to avoid any loud moans when Shauna’s tongue met your stomach. Her hands were moving through your sides and no matter how awkward you could possibly find; she was always looking at you feeling completely mesmerized even by your tiniest reaction to her touch and while wearing her clothes. It takes her seconds to unzip and undo your jeans and you help her to toss it on the floor. Unlike your jeans, your damp panties didn’t get the same faith. Instead, Shauna just pulled them down to your ankles and you accidentally whine, excited to feel her or anything coming from her. It didn’t take longer before Shauna was kissing your inner thighs purposefully close to your core. Her grip was tight on your legs, forcing you to spread them as far as you could.

“Stop teasing.” You cooed. Better, you begged. Giving up on quieten your moans, your hands went straight to the bed and firmly grabbed the sheets. Shauna didn’t seem as desperate as you, of course, and she was enjoying making you squirm under her. It was her favorite view. “Just be quiet.” Impatiently, she slaps your thigh and the sharp sound fills the room along with an unexpected moan of yours. She kisses your thighs for a few more seconds, holding them in place and exposing your wet pussy completely, and after what it felt like hours, she goes back to meet you.

You groan in annoyance, completely shocked by how she just left you hanging. Your lips parted, ready to complain or say anything to make Shauna get back there but she was faster and your attempt to mutter a few words changed to a gasp as you feel her fingers barely rubbing up and down on your soaked pussy, feeling all of you. “How are you so wet already?” She chuckles and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. Can you just-“

Your words were cut by a breathy whimper as you feel two of your girlfriend’s fingers entering your pussy. You were so soaked that it was almost embarrassing how easily it went all in. Then, you understood why Shauna left your legs, she wanted to look at you. Her eyes were so intense on you that it could dig holes onto your skin if she wanted to. Instead, she was just enjoying you feeling her touches and wanted to memorize every second of it. As you squirmed under her, Shauna’s fingers began to slowly pump into you, in and out in a tortuous pace just to see you beg.

“Please…” You panted looking into her eyes. She smirks but the rhythm doesn’t change. She has to hear it. “Please what?” Just like expected, she insists on forcing you to say exactly what you want. On forcing you to submit completely and just enjoy her touch. And as usual, you obey it.

“Faster.” Your words are like an inaudible hiss or hush but urgent like oxygen. She nods subtly with a proud look in her face and gives in to your wish. A squelch sound began to echo around the room thanks to how fast Shauna was shoving her fingers inside of you and curling up at the right spot, making you squirm violently and scream almost immediately. You didn’t even care about being loud anymore. Not when Shauna Shipman was fucking you like that.

Your hips started to slowly move, grinding and following Shauna’s fingers pace inside of you. Your moans were getting louder as her movements were getting sloppier. You were both panting and sweating together and the look in your girlfriend’s eyes was almost hypnotic. “You like this?” She murmured and you nodded frantically, whimpering and gasping for air softly, rocking your hips and feeling your legs getting shaky and tense as Shauna was feeling your spongy walls squeezing her fingers tighter. Your breath was getting heavier as you were pathetically trying to ride her fingers, lifting your weight from the mattress to feel her going deeper even if just a little more. Shauna noticed your despair and gave you what you wanted by pumping firmly and fast but making sure to fill all of you. With her thumb, she started to rub your swollen clit in messy circles and you gripped her shoulders as you felt your orgasm building up quickly.

Your grip was so strong that Shauna felt your nails digging into her skin even though her shoulders were covered by one of her famous flannels and she lets out a painful groan but smiled as soon as she realized what was about to happen. “Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” She whispers and you can’t manage to answer. It was too intense, too overwhelming.

It took a few more thrusts before your back automatically arched and your fingers squeezed the fabric of your girlfriend’s clothes as you orgasm. You moan her name like a chant over and over again, rolling your eyes back and feeling your inner walls compressing against her fingers, pushing them away. Following your body’s orders, Shauna slowed the pace before she could gently pull her soaked fingers out of you and the act made you groan as you adjusted yourself to the empty feeling.

When you take a look back at your girlfriend, she has an alluring expression in her face. Dreamy eyes and halfway open lips just enough to help her breath. You smile tenderly as she kisses your forehead, trying to recover from the intense climax.

“I changed my mind. Maybe you should buy some new flannels for me. We need to try all of them.”

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman

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seeingivy · 8 months

Note

Omg can u do a one shot where reader goes to the eras tour with Gojo??

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

satoru gojo x f!reader

an: this didn't mesh well as a one shot when I wrote it, so i hope this mix of blurbs and headcanons is ok <3 also, this is for a very specific audience, feel free to ignore on your dash!!!

satoru gojo, in his infinite knowledge and wisdom, is first exposed to the eras tour when you ask him to sign up for a presale code

“wait, so. you just want me to sign up for all the dates?” satoru asks, voice echoing through your phone speaker. “yes, make sure that you verify your ticketmaster account and everything now. and then when you do that, send me a picture so i can make sure you did it right.” you respond. “it’s not rocket science, babe. i’m sure i can figure out how to do it.” satoru grumbles, as you hear typing on the other end of the line. “just take the picture when you’re done.” “was this that important that you had to call me while I was at work?” “babe. this is taylor swift. of course it was.” “right.”

the fated day of buying tickets come and you and satoru are literally hiding from your bosses in the corner of your office - laptops pulled up and anxiously watching the queue

you're both nervously watching the numbers get smaller and smaller, nervous hands open on a twitter tab that's talking about people getting kicked out of the line, locked out, or being told that the tickets are already all gone

but by the grace of god, satoru's laptop goes through first and he manages to bag the two of you floor tickets and you're in

you climb into bed, pushing the hair off of satoru’s head to give him a kiss on the forehead, before you tuck yourself into the sheets and nestle into his arms. “sweetheart.” “hm?” “can i ask you a question? you don’t have to say yes.” he asks, voice all uncharacteristically shy. you prop yourself up on his bare chest, trying to discern the look on his face in the dark, as you nod. “can i go to the concert with you?” and when you see the little frowny face he has on, you can’t help but laugh at the entire ordeal, at the satoru gojo begging you to take him to a taylor swift concert. and when you start laughing, he starts grumbling, turning his surely pink face away from you. “shut up.” “oh my god, toru. you’re so cute, you know that?” “i’m glad my misery is adorable to you.” “I’d love if you would come to the concert with me. on one condition.” “what’s that?” “you have to learn all the lore and listen to the songs before we go. i’m not about to be that girl standing next to the guy who doesn’t know the surprise songs on the floor.” “okay. what’s a surprise song?” you press your fingers against his lips and place a kiss on his cheek. “all in good time.”

you make a game plan for satoru, color coded and planned out, for him to learn everything you want him to know

you break it down for him era by era, asking him to first listen to the album and send you his reviews - and then explaining important key details that he would need to know

and it evolves so fast, because he gets more and more excited as he goes on, texting you his thoughts at work

he just needs a reason to not do work, but he gets REALLY REALLY INTO IT

satoru: YOU’RE GAY. you: no? i don’t think so satoru: i’m singing picture to burn babe, be quiet satoru: if the way i loved you is country music, slap a flannel and a cowboy hat on me because i am FLOORED. ABSOLUTE BANGER. you: PLEASE ARE YOU LISTENING AT WORK??? satoru: mind your own business. satoru: also, who is mr. perfectly fine about? you: joe jonas. satoru: she dated joe jonas? you: no satoru, she dated barack obama. yes, she dated joe jonas. satoru: well now i hate him. he’s so rude. satoru: THIS IS ME SWALLOWING MY PRIDE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU SAYING IM SORRY FOR THATTTT NIGHT you: last night when you ate my leftovers? satoru: that wasn’t me you: sure. satoru: is dear john about john mayer? you: yes. we don’t like him. satoru: fuck yeah we don’t. SHINING LIKE FIREWORKS OVER YOUR SAD EMPTY TOWN??? JOHN, JOHN WHEN I CATCH YOU satoru: babe if you ever break up with me ill go sleep on the highway you: ok?? I wasn’t planning on it satoru: do not EVER give me a reason to relate to last kiss i will actually do something dangerous you: why did shoko just send me a picture of you with your head down on your desk at work? satoru: babe please don’t talk to me rn. i just listened to all too well and i am inconsolable. you: wait till you watch the short film. satoru: PLEASE I CAN’T HANDLE THIS. JAKE GYLLENHAL ALEX THE LION FROM MADAGASCAR WHEN I GET YOU. you: ok satoru. pipe down. satoru: ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET you: i feel like im creating a monster. satoru: I WANT YOU FOR WORSE OR FOR BETTER BROKE YOUR HEART ILL PUT IT BACK TOGETHER satoru: just finished reputation. many thoughts you: oh??? satoru: one. can we get frisky to dress? two. I am buying you a necklace with my initial on it. three. king of my heart is my favorite song so far. four. CAN WE GET FRISKY TO DRESS. five. kanye west, when I get you. you: satoru. you are at work. please focus. satoru: i know that’s a yes. satoru: just listened to lover. I am inconsolable and i love this white woman. DAYLIGHT??? THAT’S SO ME AND YOU. LOVER??? THAT’S SO ME AND YOU. PAPER RINGS??? ME AND YOU. you: do not take paper rings as an excuse to not buy me a real ring. I am expecting a nice six pronged gold band circular cut diamond. satoru: also can we get frisky to false god. you: satoru gojo. satoru: babe. urgent. 911. you: what. satoru: am i augustine or am i betty?? you: you’re inez. nosy gossiping ass bitch. satoru: EXCUSE ME. also invisible string is so us. joe alwyn, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. you: well. satoru: is she ok. like seriously, is taylor ok??? if she has happily been in a relationship for six years why did she write tolerate it? doesn’t she know my mental health is fragile? you: why tf are YOU crying about tolerate it? we’ve been in a stable relationship for four years satoru: i was imaging you being mean to me. it really hurt my feelings you: ok. satoru: long story short, the masterpiece that you are. JOE AND TAYLOR YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. satoru: what is their name combined you: toe. satoru: ok… satoru: MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT you: oh god. you’re at the end. let’s hear it. satoru: one. can we get frisky to maroon? two. you’re on your own kid changed my life. three. sweet nothing is us. four. can we get frisky to maroon. five. john mayer i will KILL YOU. six. also is like scooter braun a crack head or something like what is vigilante shit even about satoru: babe. satoru: no. satoru: YOU’RE LOSING ME???? JOE???? JOE ALWYN MY BROTHER JOE ALWYN???? NO. you: yes. satoru: Y/N. HE WON’T MARRY HER?????? IM GOING TO KILL HIM. THE GUY WHO LOVER IS ABOUT??? WHO MASTERMIND SWEET NOTHING INVISIBLE STRING IS ABOUT??? satoru: do not talk to me. I hate you. you: WHAT DID I DO

satoru gets more and more excited about the entire thing as it goes on, telling YOU that you need to start planning outfits and making bracelets like you weren't the one who got him into this

satoru cannot make friendship bracelets. but he likes watching you make them and asking you all the little things you like about the music

“ok. what do i make the next one?” “hm. did you do style yet?” “no.” you start collecting all the beads as satoru props his phone up against the table, to the live stream of the concert. every night, the two of you watch the surprise songs together and make a note of which ones you lose from your drafted list of picks - a mix of yours and satoru’s favorite songs that aren’t on the setlist. “open.” satoru holds the spoon of noodles right over your lips as you focus on finishing the bracelet, his eyes focused on the live stream. “satoru.” “hm?” “can i ask a weird question?” “sure.” “you seem like you’re like really into this. like actually.” “well, i am. this is serious - i cannot lose clean for a second time or i will break something.” “not that. I just mean, the entire thing. like the songs and the music and all that. you…are really into it.” “well, why wouldn’t i be? it’s something you like. and it clearly means a lot to you, so it does to me too.” you can feel your cheeks burning at how blunt he is about the entire thing, like it’s something so obvious, like him putting in all this effort to like something you do is a given. you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, which he smiles at before focusing back on the live stream. “BABE. NO.” “OH MY GOD." “ITS CLEAN.” “TORU HOW DID WE LOSE A SONG TWICE.”

satoru decides that the two of you are going to go as miss americana and the heartbreak prince - and watches you meticulously collect fabrics and threads to make the pink dress you had in mind

you made it a point to also sew on the little broken heart for satoru's light pink shirt and white slacks that he was going to wear to the concert and buy the two of you matching gold crowns to wear together

“something is missing from my outfit, y/n.” you frown, looking over at him as he fixes the little gold crown you got him on his white hair. “what are you talking about? you look fine.” satoru digs through your makeup box, rummaging around till he pulls out a tube of your red lipstick. “you want to wear it, toru?” “what? no. you put it on and then plant a bunch of kisses on my cheeks. so it leaves a mark.” “oh?” “IT’LL LOOK BETTER THAT WAY. I SAW SOMEONE ON TIK TOK DO IT.” you roll your eyes as you lean forward in the mirror, blotting the buttery product on your lips and ignoring the devilish smile that satoru’s giving you in the mirror. and then you turn around and cup his face in your hands, making it a point to pepper long kisses on his cheeks and the side of his neck, making sure the full mark of your lips is left on his skin. and when you’re done, he turns in the mirror and gives you a satisfied smile. “perfect.” “you’re so lame, satoru. if you wanted me to kiss you, you should have just asked.” “can i have a kiss?” “no.” he leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, it being his turn to smother you in kisses, eliciting a laugh from you when his breath tickles your neck. “shut up.”

type of mf to take BILLIONS OF PICTURES of you outside the concert and even more with you, until you both get ones you like

also, totally wears a stack of friendship bracelets that you made together, but only trades with other boyfriends and dads in solidarity

man stands for the entire concert with you, except during the man. because he knows his place.

you start SOBBING during lover and he's there just smiling at how SILLY you are and wiping your little tears away. you both sway to the song together and scream the bridge together.

he takes a picture of you doing the fearless heart with taylor in the back. bc duh.

speaking of, this dude is NOT recording taylor AT ALL he is recording you and taking pictures of you and it's literally the most wholesome thing ever

like you're just so excited and jumpy that he thinks its cute and he wants to document it

but then he's so inconsolable during tis the damn season and tolerate it that he's SCREAMING THE LYRICS with the passion of ten suns (he is an evermore stan, fight with the wall)

takes a video of you singing during enchanted (which he later makes his lockscreen)

fighting for his life during all too well. like everyone else.

your surprise songs are dear john and daylight - which you're both screaming together on the floor.

satoru is giving YOU the side eye when you scream DATE ME TAYLOR during vigilante shit chair moment.

mister man is blushing when you point at him when taylor sings karma is my boyfriend

carries you out of the concert bc he knows your feet are killing you.

and feeds you after. bc duh. post concert munchies at a fast food drive thru.

an, again: tee hee this was so silly but so fun to think about. and for a very niche audience AHAHHAHA. also it feels weird to use my taglist when this is for a VERY specific audience so I will ignore.

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androgynealienfemme · 9 months

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"What is butch? Rebellion against women's lot, against gender-role imperatives that pit boyness against girlness and then assign you-know-who the short straw. Butch is a giant fuck YOU! to compulsory femininity, just as lesbianism says the same to compulsory heterosexuality. I do not associate respect for compulsory anything with butchness, though perhaps some butch bottoms will disagree. I first gravitated toward butch women because they were the easiest female allies to recognize in my war against the compulsory world.

In the 1970s, when I came out in the dyke community, butch was dead and androgyny was practically an imperative. I didn't mind at first; girliness as a way of life hadn't worked out for me, and though I had always exhibited distinctly femme sexuality, I wasn't presenting myself to the world that way: I hadn't really grown into the image. I was young; the men I had fucked played "Me Tarzan, You Jane." I couldn't figure out how to get them to play the game by different rules. As soon as sex with them was over (or even while it was still going on) the whole thing felt stupid. Men who didn't play Tarzan were fine, but I couldn't figure out how to get them to fuck me. No doubt they were contending with their own straight (or not-so-straight) boy version of femme sexuality and were waiting for me to make the first move. Some men don't play Tarzan so as not to appear sexist; others just want you to do it-- grab their neckties and out them where you want them -- but I didn't know that at the time.

With some relief then, I retired the Jane I never wanted to be, reconstructed myself as an androgyne, and forsook my vain attempt to present my femininity to the world. The Uniform, actually, was Butch Lite. Jeans or chinos, flannel shirts or tees, sensible shoes-- either boots, athletic shoes, or Birkenstocks (it turns out the latter were incredibly subversive if you wore them with scarlet toenail polish, but that's another story). Almost the whole dyke community dressed this way: if a woman didn't, her politics and her sexual orientation were automatically up for debate.

The butches who were left over from the era before the purge also dressed this way. We had renamed the identity, it seemed, but kept the look. That way we could say we'd vanquished it, even as we kept it around to turn us on.

The unschooled eye couldn't tell the two sorts of women -- butches and androgynes-- apart. Butchness had been so thoroughly declared passe that an entire generation of dykes could dress in what was essentially butch-woman drag and evoke defensive responses only from conservative straight people (and very straight-identified "gay women").

At first I believed the mythos of the Vanished Butch (and her symbiotic sister-species, the Vanished Femme). But certain women wearing the Uniform made my nostrils flare, my tongue tie, my skin prickle like an electrical storm had passed. They filled the clothes differently. It took me some years to begin to understand why I wanted to chew on some women's thick brown leather belts and not on others.

Non-butch women wore the Uniform like librarians who had just come in from gardening. It was not clothes that made the woman. It was stance. It was attitude-- it was impossible to picture one of the librarians wearing a tux, or myself dressing in silk or lace to present myself to her. It was impossible to think of presenting myself to her at all, to offer her that mixture of allure and willingness that I desired to give a butch woman."

“Why I Love Butch Women” by Carol A. Queen, On Butch and Femme: Compiled Readings, (edited by I.M. Epstein) (2017)

#why I love butch women #dagger: on butch women #on butch and femme: compiled readings #on butch and femme #Carol queen #lesbian lit #lesbian #butch lesbian #butch #lesbian history #butch history #queer history #lgbtq+ history

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fredwkong · 8 months

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1000: Dog

Though he agonises over the Capybara card for a long moment, Eric picks the Dog card. He would rather keep being able to think. Like before, the Dog card vanishes in a flash of blinding light while the other two cards turn to dust.

As he gets ready for bed, careful to clean under his new foreskin, Eric notices two things. Firstly, his cock’s neediness and discharge seem to have dropped to a high, but still humanly possible, point. Second, some ink from the Dog card seems to have become embedded in his palm.

“Okay,” Eric says to himself. “Guess I can expect things to get equally extreme with whatever this card turns me into.” The thought frightens and thrills him in equal measure. Eric goes to bed excited to find out how the Dog card will change his life.

The next morning, Eric wakes up hard and leaking, just like he’s gotten used to the last few days. He considers masturbating, but that sounds so boring. No, he deserves to fuck someone, in the mouth or the hole.

“Get up here,” he texts Blair. He opens up his desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of lube that he bought at the start of the year. When he remembers the boy who bought it, little limp-dicked cut Eric, Eric finds himself sneering a bit. What a bitch that guy was.

Eric shakes his head violently. “What the hell?” he gasps. Whatever’s happening to him this time, it’s intense and fast. “I… That’s not me,” he tells the box. He has to keep in mind who he really is and resist these urges if he wants Blair to like him. He’s—

There’s a knock on his door before Eric can collect his thoughts. Startled, Eric struts to the door and opens it, realising at the last moment that he’s naked, his hard cock sticking straight out from his groin with a trickle of precum running down its length.

Blair looks sleepy and cute, Eric thinks in the back of his mind. “Good morning, handsome,” Blair says, his voice thick with sleep. “Gonna feed me breakfast again?”

“Gonna fuck you,” Eric grunts, grabbing Blair by his perky ass as he walks into the room.

Blair smirks in reply. “And what if I want to blow you?”

In response, Eric pulls down Blair’s flannel pyjama pants, making him squeal in surprise.

It’s hot and rough. Eric seems full of an energy he never knew he possessed. As he enters Blair—he barely needed any lube, his cock is so leaky—Eric feels pumped, swollen with masculine power. Blair, barely able to think as Eric slams into his prostate, watches in horny amazement as Eric’s skinny muscles thicken and define themselves with each thrust, until he cums, his shredded new body shuddering as he fills Blair up.

Barely looking at Blair, Eric pulls on a pair of shorts. He hears Blair open his mouth, probably to ask if they can get breakfast, or play video games, or something else boyfriend-y. Eric suddenly can’t stand the thought. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Gotta go to the gym.”

“Oh,” says Blair, a bit crestfallen. He looks hot, lying on Eric’s bed with Eric’s copious load leaking out of his asshole. “Want to hang out later?”

“I dunno, man.” No. Eric suddenly knows he’s going out tonight.

Eric’s never been to the gym before, but he instinctively knows what to do. He hits chest and arms for an hour, then goes to pose in the changing room. Even with his defined new muscles and masculine shape, though, he suddenly thinks that he looks small. He looks weak.

Even though he knows his clothes used to be different, before being washed in his precum transformed it all into bro clothes, Eric’s happy with the way his new stuff shows off his body. He goes out to the closest gay club and dances the night away, facefucking a tiny twink he meets on the dance floor to get out a load. Somehow, Eric can’t imagine hooking up with a guy bigger than him.

Eric ignores Blair’s repeated texts all day Monday. Instead, he goes to the gym to hit back, then roams around campus with his shirt off, enjoying the late June sun. Some big fratty guys chuckle at the sight of a lean, short guy like Eric showing off his body, so Eric flips them off.

At this point, he notices that ink that stuck to his hand has spread further. It’s reached up his arm and started to edge onto his chest. On the underside of his wrist, where the tattoo started, is a snarling dog face. When he gets back to his dorm, Eric searches his whole body and grins when he finds a small banana tattoo forming just under one ear. The tattoos make him look badass!

On Tuesday, Eric doesn’t bother paying attention in class. His cock is getting pent up again, since he hasn’t dropped a load in a guy since Sunday night. Instead, he chats up some twinky bottoms on Grindr, feeling precum ooze from his half-chubbed cock as he tells them how slutty he’s gonna make them feel. He feels powerful, like he’s been riding a growing high since Sunday, even though every glance in the mirror makes him cringe at how small he looks.

That night, Eric invites the twinks over one by one. He grunts and groans in a deepening voice as he fills each one up with a thick load, hoping that all his neighbours will hear him and know what a man he is. Each time he cums, Eric feels his tatts spread a little further across his body, patterns sharpening with every thrust.

Eric makes up for not going to the gym on Tuesday by spending the whole day there on Wednesday, hitting a full body circuit like the beast he knows he is. When he spots a twink watching him from the treadmills, Eric winks at him and follows him into the changing room. They fuck in the shower, but when Eric walks out, letting his softening cock swing and shed drops of cum on the bathroom floor, a huge jock is standing at the sinks. Eric thinks he saw this guy at the front desk when he first arrived.

“That’s against the rules,” the jock grunts at Eric. “Gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“What are you, a homophobe?” Eric asks sharply, pulling his gym clothes back on. “I still have the rest of my workout to do.”

“Keep it out of the showers, bro,” the guy says. “Go fuck in your dorm like everyone else.”

At ‘everyone else’ Eric sees red. He’s not ‘everyone else.’ He’s better. He’s got the muscles, the manliness. He’s got the fucking magic cards! Eric throws a punch before he knows what he’s doing, and the jock goes down like a sack of flour.

Standing over him, Eric feels exhilarated. Yeah, that’s what happens when you question his manliness! Curling his lip at the guy, Eric leaves the locker room and continues his workout, hitting chest again.

As he does, though, Eric feels the high he’s been riding all week start to ebb. He just assaulted a guy! In the mirrors, Eric watches as the thick musculature he suddenly gained while fucking Blair shrinks down, becoming a taut, defined physique a few steps beyond where he was when he picked the card. It’s like he’s waking up from a trance, his head clearing. Eric still feels cocky, proud of his body, but he doesn’t feel quite so defensive and abrasive all of a sudden.

(thanks to @idesofrevolution for the inspo pic)

The jock’s back at the front desk when Eric finishes with his workout. His face looks a little bruised, but nothing like he just took a hit hard enough to knock him out. “Uh, hey, man,” Eric says, scuffing his shoe on the floor. He’s fighting his new personality traits just to apologise. “Sorry for, uh, punching you before.”

Surprisingly, the guy chuckles, continuing to work on something on the computer. “No worries, Eric,” he says. How does he know Eric’s name? “I know you’re kinda touchy. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I knocked you out!”

“What?” The jock looks up at Eric for the first time. “Bro, I know you’ve got, like, small man complex or whatever, but we were, like, play-wrestling. I know what your real punches feel like.” He laughs again and goes back to his work.

By the time he gets back to his dorm, Eric’s pretty sure he’s entered some kind of different reality. People are treating him strangely. To make sure, Eric opens up his conversation with Blair. He cringes at the number of messages Blair has sent that Eric’s left on read. “Hey bro,” Eric types out, “wanna come hang out?”

The “Yes!” arrives embarrassingly quickly, followed shortly after by Blair.

“Oh, did you just get back from the gym?” Blair asks, when Eric opens the door. “That’s really hot! Can I suck you off?” He’s suddenly right in Eric’s space, trying to take off Eric’s shirt and shorts at the same time.

Before he can think about it, Eric finds himself saying, “Sure, if you don’t mind tasting the twink I fucked in the shower.” Why did he say that?

But Blair just grins at him and sinks to his knees. “You know how to get me going.”

Eric doesn’t know why he avoided Blair all week. His mouth feels so good wrapped around Eric’s thickening cock, and he’s so good at opening his throat when Eric grabs his hair and starts to facefuck him. It's good to have a consistent fuck now and again.

After, Eric resists the urge to kick Blair out, and they end up chilling on Eric’s bed, playing some video games. “Sorry for blowing you off all week,” Eric finally says, after a long silence.

“No worries,” says Blair, surprising Eric again. “I know you need a good variety of guys to fill up or whatever.

Eric is absolutely sure something about the world changed in response to his card choice now.

Blair keeps talking. “You should invite me up next time you have a bunch of twinks over. I’d love to suck your balls or eat you out while you fill them up.”

Eric’s cock jumps and oozes a bit of precum at the thought.

The rest of the time until Saturday night, Eric figures out his new normal. He’s still high strung and defensive, and he goes to the gym almost every day. But he actually feels attracted to bigger guys again, and he can fight down his aggressiveness.

Having Blair back is great. On Friday night, Eric brings the jock he punched back to his dorm. Turns out, Aaron’s okay with gay sex as long as it’s not happening in the gym showers, and he’s a really needy bottom. While Blair fills Aaron’s mouth, Eric takes his ass.

On Saturday evening, Eric begs off spending the night with Blair again. “This has been a lot more sex than I’m used to,” he says. He wants to take some time picking his card tonight.

Blair acquiesces, but promises to come by on Sunday morning. “You’re not ignoring me for half a week again,” he tells Eric as he leaves. “I’ll come up here and suck you in the shower if I have to!”

It doesn’t sound like an idle threat.

As soon as Eric sits down to consider the box, it pops open, and he draws his cards. He spreads them on his desk to get a good look at his options for the week. He can’t wait to see how its symbol gets added to his tattoos.

The first card has a simple scene on it featuring a colourful rainbow. There’s some glitter stuck to the card as well, though Eric can’t tell if it was part of the card’s design or was added later. In the background, behind the rainbow, the lines of the landscape seem to come together somehow to create the sense of a scantily clad male body.

The second card shows a stylised drawing of a bull’s face. It looks stronger than Eric could ever imagine, and with his new gym habit, he can imagine a lot. He would bet that, if this bull’s face was attached to the body, it would be absolutely thick with muscle.

In the centre of the third card is a simple drawing of a clock. The hands are rushing around, and in the background Eric sees the faded outlines of things like weights, birthday cakes, and calendars. Could the cards have the power to change more than just Eric’s body?

Or vote here on strawpoll: https://strawpoll.com/xVg7j6wQznr.

See Eric's whole journey with the 1000 cards here.

Did your pick not win the vote? Send me an ask telling me what card Eric should have picked to see what could have happened.

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #reality change #male tf #1000 follower party #broification #gradual change #all fwkong

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 6 months

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Round 2 Group D Match 6

expand for propaganda! (major wall of text warning)

Henry Rollins:

"Honestly, Johnny Mnemonic Henry with the glasses and the lab coat was pretty hot"

"A wonderful physical specimen. Plus he’s really funny and weird….best hot ones interview of all time."

"I want him to run me over with a bus"

Stephen Malkmus:

"i can't even stand stephen malkmus but there's a very special girl out there who needs this win"

"My perpetually stoned, nonsensical girlfriend...if we don't invent the time machine soon I might die. He's like 6 ft tall so unfortunately I'd be like one of those birds that ride on giraffes and eat bugs out of their fur. And then I'd die in a weed accident during the recording of Wowee Zowee? Before that though I'd spend 25 hrs a day in bed with him. Alright thanks"

"Stephen Malkmus chronically addicted to moaning and gasping in Pavement songs like he’s getting the best dicking down of his life in the back of the tour bus while everyone else is asleep"

"This is the indie-label match, right? Then it has to be Malkmus, he *made* the scene. And he's still releasing excellent music today. He's just the most influential rockstar of the 90s."

"my gay pavement fan uncle gets out of prison tonight and he knows you ratted him out in '06. the only way to make this right is to vote for stephen"

"Pretty please vote for him, my friend loves him and he really wants him to win"

""There were times he refused to speak to his bandmates, pulling a jacket over his head and referring to himself as "the little bitch"." I have also heard him refer to himself as a brat, a queen, a primadonna, a sociopath, and a narcissist. All of these descriptors have made me want to slam him against a wall and turn his neck fun new colors."

"I mean, Pavement is THEE indie band of the 90s. The lowkey snark, Koreaaaa, so much style that it's wasted. And Malkmus is an understated cool rockstar: the hair, the face, Silver Jews! He never ever sold out. He's the 90s."

"the most beautiful man ever he looks like a gorgeous fairytale prince. he has been hot since he emerged on the scene and continues to be so as their reunion tour comes to a close. stephen forever"

"we have to consider the autism swagger. find me a pavement write up that doesn’t spend three paragraphs waxing lyrical on his inability to make eye contact. find me a YouTube comment section that doesn’t have hoards of moms swooning over his flat affect. his refusal to wear anything more formal than a flannel for the first decade of his career? genuinely culturally influential. 30 glorious years of expressionless performances. sunglasses in the dark. so many straight men falling over themselves for him they made a joke about it in the Barbie movie. raw tbh sex appeal. and he’s got a great nose"

"he had a couple of unfortunate haircuts during this period but highkey i would break both of my arms to just be able to make out with him. please vote for SM my life is in danger if you don't"

#most attractive 90s musician #polls #poll #90s music #tournament #henry rollins #black flag #stephen malkmus #pavement

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sgtmickeyslaughter · 1 month

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ian ♥ mickey - farmers market drabble

Mickey blamed it all on the good weather.

If it wasn’t so nice out, his husband wouldn’t be forgoing sleep shirts, and Mickey wouldn’t be so suggestible in the mornings. He had been half asleep and easily swayed by a warm, bare chest against his back and a hand skimming the top of his waistband.

Which was how he wound up in the park near their apartment, trying not to step on any of the little dogs these yuppie bitches were dragging around the farmers market.

“You know, people risk their lives by the thousands escaping communist countries so they don’t have to wait in ridiculous bread lines” Mickey commented, eyeing the line of flannel-clad millennials ahead of them. “I’m just saying, it’s a little disrespectful to spend our Saturday mornings like this when there’s a perfectly good all-American Jewel down the street with a whole isle of bread.”

“You’re not allowed to bitch until you try it” Ian said, scolding him with a smile and a hand on his arm, which Mickey shrugged off.

The air was crisp, but warmed by the bright sunlight shining through the trees. It was nice, but Mickey wasn’t going to give his husband the satisfaction of admitting it.

“It’s fucking bright out” Mickey complained, brows furrowed.

He nearly regretted it, since he was trying not to be such a bitch about all the gay shit Ian liked. Something about supporting and uplifting each other, even though it never seemed to matter when Mickey wanted to kneecap someone. But Ian just gave him a triumphant look and pulled a navy baseball cap out of his back pocket.

“Gotta’ take care of those sensitive baby blues” Ian teased, gloating.

Mickey shoved the cap on, stepping forward with the rest of the line. He had to admit, without the sun in his eyes and with his face partially hidden, it was a pretty gorgeous day. And when Ian finally got their overpriced bread and ripped a chunk out, still steaming and held out hopefully to Mickey, he had to admit it was almost worth the wait.

Especially when he saw his husband’s eyes travel over to the next stall, stocked with farm grown lettuce and tomato, and realized that if he played his cards right, he could get his husband to make him a BLT for lunch.

He was running out of steam when Ian got roped in by some weird looking guy who’s farm only grew different kind of mushrooms, and who was eager to explain the difference between each of them.

Mickey’s eyes wandered to the next stall over, where different colored tulips were sprouting out of buckets and an older lady was bunching them together and wrapping them I white paper carefully with shaking hands. There was a cardboard sign hanging on one of the tent posts that read 1$ = 1 flower.

Without a second thought, Mickey was standing in front of her table, eyeing the different colors critically. They had some blues, similar to the lilies Mickey had picked for the wedding, but Mickey was inexplicably drawn to the budding pink flowers.

He looked over at his husband, listening intently to the mushroom man. He eyed the slight part of lips, the blushing pink on his nose, from the seasonal allergies he insisted he didn’t get and made a decision.

“Good morning,” the florist said kindly. He fished a 5 dollar bill out of his pocket and put it down on the table.

“I’ll take five of the pink ones” Mickey said gruffly, trying to sound like he was buying cigarettes at the corner store and not buying gay ass flowers for his gay ass husband.

By the time Ian finished, with a bag with two different types of mushrooms Mickey hoped against all odds would get them high, Mickey was standing uncomfortably on his own, a small bouquet of tulips grasped in his hands.

A small grin fought its way onto Ian’s face, but he was able to casually ask “whaha’ got there?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow as if to say if you make fun of me right now this will never happen again, and held the flowers out to his husband.

Ian’s mouth formed a soft ‘O’ as he stared down at the bouquet in his hand, wide eyes shining beautifully. It was exactly the reaction Mickey was hoping for, even when Ian foolishly stuck his nose against the flowers, immediately and predictably causing him to sneeze.

Ian pulled him in and pressed a lightning quick kiss to the side of his face, right under the line of the hat. Soon, Mickey was being corralled thought the crowd with an arm around his shoulders and his husband’s voice in his ear, whispering that they should go home and finish what he started that morning.

It wasn’t the absolute worst way to spend a morning, Mickey decided, looking up at his husbands brilliant grin.

I finally woke up early enough to go to the farmers market near me (please please, i know its impressive that a 20 something woke up before 11am on a saturday, but hold your applause) and got the idea to write this drabble, please enjoy this photo of the tulips that inspired it

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fanfic #sgtmickeyslaughter

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corrodedcoughin · 1 year

Note

Behold - another headcanon. As much as I love love love ally Wayne Munson - what if he was also gay?

Has started dating another working class man who he met at the plant, or at the bar after work, or an old friend from his army days or something. Just a couple of gruff old men falling in love.

They go on casual dates and Wayne will wear his nicest flannel shirt and put on his dollar store cologne. Eddie teases him - but in a lighthearted way you do with your family ya know? Something about cleaning up nice (for once) and since when did he have game? And Wayne will scoff a laugh back and tease him in return about Eddie cleaning himself up and wearing jeans without holes when he went to the movies with Steve, what's that about?

Eddie loves to joke about Wayne going on old people dates with his Manfriend (because they're too old to be boyfriends). But they can both tell it makes Eddie very happy because it means there's a chance for Eddie to find someone - Even in a shithole like Hawkins.

Wayne will invite his boyfriend over for dinner and they'll sit on the couch and watch the game together, arms around the other. Eddie complains about basketball but sits with them and watches the game with them anyway. Wayne's boyfriend kisses him quickly and gently when he leaves, and in the quiet when Eddie and Wayne do the dishes together Eddie admits that he wants something like that. Someone he can drop the mask with. Someone he can put his arm around, or have them put their arm around him. Fucking intimacy and domestic bliss. He carefully doesn't admit he wants that with Steve. He knows Wayne probably knows but saying it out loud is different. Makes it more real.

Bonus: Wayne is slowly spending more time at his boyfriend's house when he slowly stops getting horrifically worried about leaving Eddie alone every time. And Eddie is still super freaked out about living in a trailer where he watched a girl die. So Wayne and Eddie slowly move into Wayne's boyfriend's house and the ache in Eddie's chest and his yearning for something like that just gets stronger. Watching them go to bed together and "while I'm up do you want anything?", and cooking something for dinner just because the other will like it.

And Eddie is Definitely Not daydreaming about moving in with Steve and draping himself over his back with his hands on his hips when Steve makes dinner, Eddie gently kissing his neck. Playing his acoustic guitar softly instead of His Baby Warlock because he knows Steve has a migraine coming on. Spooning when they sleep and taking turns being the little spoon because they both want to be held. Eddie actually doing the laundry or the vacuuming or something because Steve likes a clean house but hates doing that particular chore himself.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t keeping this in my inbox for a couple of days because I absolutely fell in love with it :( I just wanted to think about it a bit and enjoy Wayne and his man friend. This is so unbelievably soft and heartwarming, I just adore it. Thank you for sharing, I mean that sincerely.

Wayne is a bit nervous to take his boyfriend over initially. Not because he thinks Eddie will be prejudiced, no way. He’s nervous because it’s always been ‘Wayne and Eddie’ and he doesn’t want Eddie to think that’s going to change, Eddie will always be Wayne’s number one priority. So before he asks his boyfriend round he sits Eddie down and explains that to him. They don’t often do Big Talks but Wayne knows this is important.

So he calls Eddie through, makes sure he has his full attention and lays it out, making sure Eddie knows that he’s his number one but he’s met somebody that he really wants to keep in his life and that can’t happen without Eddie’s involvement. It ends in hugs and smiles and nods and noses being wiped on shirt sleeves and the all important ‘so when can I meet him?’

It goes as smoothly as can be expected in a cramped 1 bed trailer but they make it work. Eddie goes quiet by the end, smiling to himself but with a tinge of sadness. He desperately wants what his uncle has, he watched them the whole night. The casual touches, the shared smiles, the easy intimacy. And what’s worse is that he knew exactly who he wanted it with. Wayne wasn’t born yesterday, he ‘debriefs’ with Eddie once his boyfriend leaves. Eddie gushes about how great Wayne’s guy is but Wayne can see the longing in his eyes, he knows that feeling. And with the amount of times the harrington boy (Steve he reminds himself) is over Wayne knows what’s up with Eddie. He’s seen the looks Steve throws Eddie’s way too, he knows this isn’t one sided, just needs them to see that.

Wayne tells Eddie to invite Steve over for dinner on Wednesday. Wednesday night the night Wayne’s boyfriend comes round. It’s routine. Wayne knows that, Eddie knows that. It’s silent before eddie replies with a quiet ‘yeah, yeah I think I will, thanks Wayne’ while smiling down at his guitar. The whole night goes perfectly but Wayne just wants to shake those boys and knock their heads together. Maybe that will finally give them some sense! He tells his partner this as they do the dishes, Steve and Eddie whispering to each other on the couch, closer than they would ever really need to be. His partner laughs as he knocks into Wayne’s shoulder ‘yeah but look how long it took us sugar’

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #IS THIS OKAY? IDK MY GUY!!!#im so sorry this is so late I really have been cradling it close to my heart I’m in love with your hc #any message you send tbh #I’m sorry mine is so structureless and bleh when yours is beautiful and loving and warm #WAYNE AND HIS MANFRIEND I LOVE THEM

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aemiron-main · 1 year

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i hope you’re all doing mentally well and stable today! because here’s ur reminder that will byers hasn’t worn his flannels unbuttoned since the day he was attacked/kidnapped.

This is the very beginning of s1 ep1 before Will is kidnapped.

But then after this? All of his flannels are buttoned up. Even in the desert, where Mike and Jonathan have shed their layers, Will still has his flannel on AND buttoned up.

And YES, there’s scenes where he’s not wearing a flannel at all, but not more scenes where he has it AND has it unbuttoned. And the no-flannel scenes tend to be ones where he’s more vulnerable esp in s2. And interestingly enough, as far as I remember, will wears NO flannels in s3. He’s vulnerable. Too vulnerable, like he doesn’t have a choice in the vulnerability. Wearing the flannel unbuttoned is healthy vulnerability, he can button it up or take it off if he WANTS to. But no flannel at all? Too vulnerable, dangerously so. Buttoned up flannel? Not vulnerable but too repressed, not opening up in a healthy way. In S3 it makes sense for him to be extra vulnerable because growing up, fighting with Mike, coming to terms with being gay, AND he’s extra vulnerable in terms of supernatural stuff because he doesn’t know that the mindflayer/Henry’s still out there. At least in s2 he was aware of it. But in s3, he’s just barely getting hints of it and is ignoring it, so he’s more vulnerable because he can’t see the danger. In s4, we get a mixture of no flannel at all AND completely button flannel- he’s going between too vulnerable vs not vulnerable at all.

look at the way that his grey longsleeve undershirt in s4 is so similar to his s2 shirt (shown above). i think in s5 we’re going to get Will in just his grey undershirt, the loss of a layer demonstrating that he’s vulnerable as a result of his connection with Henry AND working as a s2 field scene callback. the vulnerability is being forced though, like he doesn’t have his outer layer at all, it’s almost TOO vulnerable, making him susceptible to attack.

and then imo in s5 at the VERY end after everything is said and done and they’re all happy, we’re going to see Will in non-buttoned up flannels again with a visible undershirt because he’s been able to face off against Henry and be vulnerable on his own terms now, he still HAS the flannel but it’s not totally buttoned up, he’s not TOO vulnerable, not TOO exposed but vulnerable in a healthy way again.

And in s4, Will starts rolling up the sleeves of his flannel as the episodes go on- he’s becoming more vulnerable. He even rolls up the sleeves of his undershirt sometimes too, but it’s super interesting to me that in the bingham house he has the flannel sleeves rolled up and grey undershirt sleeves rolled down. He’s more vulnerable but not completely.

#stranger things #byler #st analysis #will byers analysis #st costuming #will byers costuming

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sunny-reis · 4 months

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같이 꿈을 꾸고 싶어 - dream with you

pairing: huh yunjin x reader

synopsis: an *actually* short oneshot about escapism and yunjin

tags: gender-neutral reader but all of this is implied to be sapphic to some extent (girl in red mentions 🤯). i don't know interpret it as whatever. extremely descriptive paragraphs abt the setting and yunjin? gay as hell. reader lives and goes to college in massachusetts. don't ask why (i do not know. have fun going to mit i guess.)

word count: 932

author's note: YURRRRR i wrote this half-asleep and feeling sapphic as FUCKKKKK enjoy

“massachusetts is such a stupid place to go to college.”

you raise a curious eyebrow at the comically focused yunjin splayed across your far-too-small dorm bed, flipping mindlessly through one of the many books you possess with scrunched eyebrows and a strawberry lollipop in hand. the small speaker perched atop the bedframe plays your “chill” playlist on shuffle at a relatively loud volume as your roommate isn't present, the strumming of an acoustic guitar and her unabashed humming filling the room amid the quiet. it’s a comfortable silence, nothing but the occasional flip of a page from yunjin, the scribbling (and rub of an eraser) from you, the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the window adjacent to your bed, and girl in red.

“and why is that?” you ask. all she gives you is a shrug.

“the drive to see you is stupidly long, and honestly? boston isn't even that interesting of a city to be worth it.”

“not even to see me?”

“yeah, no,” she elbows you with a small giggle, “definitely not.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head and looking back at your notebook. the colorful pastel stationery strewn all over your table does nothing to give the illusion of a put-together student; you sigh, folding your arms and laying your head down. there's no use focusing on work when you're so distracted. by what, you can't pinpoint, but it must have something to do with the way yunjin’s humming is all you can hear and the way her hair falls over her shoulder barely covered by the flannel she has on. it definitely isn't the way marks on her nose stand out despite the bright makeup on her face, or the way her glasses sit too perfectly on the bump or her nose, or the way her cheeks flush a rosy pink when she looks up to see you lost in her eyes.

her presence slips into every crack and crevice in your heart.

“‘whatcha looking at?” she asks. you blink, devoid of any thought for a short while until she waves a puzzled hand in front of your eyes, snapping you out of your trance.

“hello? earth to [y/n], you there?” you nod, sitting up to match the yunjin now resting her head on her arms on your desk. she stares up at you, eyes starry and wide; many say they're the windows of the soul, but right now, you're unable to tell a thing. it's terrifying – you swallow the thought that she may be weirded out by your not-so-subtle starstruck, longing gazes.

yunjin stands up after a moment of silence, stretching her arms and suppressing a yawn. you check the analog clock on the wall that reads 6:43.

“we should go get dinner, i’m so hungry i can't focus.” you say, clearing your throat. she gives you a small smile.

“i was just about to say that! i’m starving.”

“i’ll drive.” yunjin nods. you don't need words to say you’re going to your special place, a small cafe a 15-minute drive away from campus. neither of you are impartial to making the short walk in the rain, but it's always been a tradition of yours to drive and listen to the same music on the same route.

the rain stops by the time the two of you get your food (a cup of tomato soup and crackers for you, and a turkey-ham sandwich with extra cheese for yunjin – it's always been the same. of course, the two of you always end up getting snacks from the food hall anyways, but there's sentiment to the consistency). unlike before, though, you decide to eat at the park; and so here you are, rocking on the uncomfortably small rubber swings and conversing peacefully amid the handful of children messing around on the playground. it's filling, how content yunjin looks – your crackers are left untouched as you catch yourself staring at her again, unable to break free of the captivating siren’s song of her humming and serenity.

“penny for your thoughts?” she asks abruptly, clearly having caught onto the cacophany in your head. you hate it when she does that.

“not much, i guess.” you shrug.

“oh come on, don't give me that,” she raises an eyebrow, “i’ve known you for years, you can't hide from me.”

“i dunno, i guess i'm just … turbulent?” and there begins the monologue.

everything pours out. yunjin watches, face falling at the harsh words you use to demonize yourself for feeling the way you do; falling in love isn't a crime, no matter whether your feelings are reciprocated or not. she holds back the urge to laugh at the way you neglect to think about her feelings. there are so many fleeting gazes and sleepless, longing-filled nights you haven't seen – she feels the exact same as you.

after your spiel and a number of apologies, yunjin clasps your hands in hers. your eyes widen, looking down as if avoiding her gaze will soften the blow.

“stop tearing yourself down for being human, [y/n]. i promise you, even if i didn't feel the same, it wouldn't be worth punishing yourself for being in love!” she cries, grasping your now-shaking hands tighter. she continues, wiping the occasional tear that falls from your eyes with a soft touch. she's never appeared to be an angel, a heavenly being, more than she does now.

words aren't needed to express how giddy you are when she spells out her feelings for you, topping it all off with a small kiss on the nose.

#yunjin #le serafim #works #yunjin oneshots #yunjin x reader #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim oneshots #yunjin imagines #le sserafim x reader #fics #oneshots #Spotify

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