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#going back to pig now bc pig is Fun
orcelito · 1 year
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tfw u have so much shit in stardew valley due to dumb luck alone. but the thing you dont have. is a single Fucking red cabbage.
#speculation nation#the Only thing holding me back from the community center completion#im mid spring year 2 and ive had Everything else since the first of year 2#(when my pigs i bought over the winter dug up some truffles lol)#the good news is one of the serpents dropped a red cabbage seed#so i went and tore up a thing in my greenhouse. not even sure what. probably some flower#planted the red cabbage with a deluxe speed grow fertilizer#that was. 2 days ago in-game#9 days reduced by 25%... probably in like 3 ish days i'll be getting my final piece for the community center. Finally.#i unlocked the sewers but tried to go into Bug Zone but couldnt :(#got Elliot's 14 heart event and MAN that was so fucking sweet#gonna have to go into my sebastian run to try to see his lol. emo boy come Here...#in that one i am Filthy rich. but also. im setting things up so much more efficiently in this game#i was making like 25k at Least per day in my most advanced run#in this one im making like 15k a day. but a whole year earlier.#easily make more than that tho. i have a lot of money#and i keep diving into the skull mines for resource runs bc it's Fun#setting up plans to go on a deep dive to the level 100. so far ive only made it like 33 spots deep#ive got the galaxy sword. in fact i have found Five prismatic shards by chance. so im just holding onto the extras now lol#bc i wanna unlock the community center to unlock the island to unlock the forge so i can make my sword even more badass#aaaand then... uh. im gonna get one of those totems to go to the desert Really early#bring a bunch of stone just in case. and bring a bunch of bombs.#im gonna dump a LOT of resources into this deep dive. i WILL get there. im just gonna do plenty of prep first lol#i s2g i got the void egg by chance bc a witch dropped it off. and then i just found 2 dinosaur eggs so imma have my lil Rocket back again#... i Think i have space in my coop? currently am incubating a 2nd void chicken#2 normal chickens 3 ducks 4 (?) rabbits 1 (soon to be 2) void chickens. i THINK i have space for one more#i dont remember how many rabbits i have lololol ive just been buying animals left and right. like w/e#i DO know i have 2 cows 3 goats 2 sheep and 4 pigs. im nearly at capacity.#might build another bard sometime but BEFORE THAT im gonna buy my 2nd house upgrade. so i can have kids.#elliott as a dad seems so fucking cute ngl. he's so... oh he is SO romantic & it's killing me. those fuckin letters man. wow
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duodusk · 2 years
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still cant believe my shitty poorly looped autism creature yippee gif is still getting used on here where are u people finding it
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cupid-styles · 5 months
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https://www.tumblr.com/cupid-styles/733368300315213824/my-eye-is-physically-twitching-bc-i-just-thought
Yes please!! It’d be so cute to see Harry really step up and become the very doting father figure, super cautious with the kid and turning very silly while playing games. While y/n is just watching it all happen and getting more of a crush on her baby daddy. They’d be so cute 🥰
this is a lil bit longer than I anticipated it being fjsjsksjdjs and I also changed some things around butttttt I hope u enjoy !!!!!! . . .
”What if she doesn’t like me?”
“Harry, she’s three.”
“Three year olds have opinions.”
Y/N sighs as she twists her hair up into a claw clip. She notices his grip tighten on the steering wheel as he pulls into the driveway of her sister’s house, where they’re spending the night babysitting her niece.
(What had started out as a favor for her sister was now an experiment in co-parenting and toddler communication skills — once Harry found out she was doing this, he wanted in. And frankly, it was damn near impossible to say no to him, especially since he had a minimum of two parenting books on him at all times.)
“You’ll be fine. Stop stressing.” She mumbles when he puts the car in park, climbing out of the car, a hand pressed against her budding stomach. She’s a few weeks out from her fifth month, nearly halfway through, and her bump seems to be growing by the day — not that Harry’s complaining.
With their bags over his shoulder, Y/N’s sister, Rena, answers the door as they’re approaching it. She’s sweet — much friendlier than Y/N — and doesn’t mention anything about their unusual circumstances, much to Harry’s relief. She gives them a rundown of everything they need to know (she and her partner are going away for the weekend), complete with a 5-page packet on the dining room table consisting of Eden, Y/N’s niece, favorite foods, nighttime routine, and the names of her stuffed animals.
It’s all going pretty well until Rena and her boyfriend attempt to leave. That’s when the breakdown ensues.
It’s a mess of ear piercing screams and crying on Eden’s behalf. Every time Rena tries to put her down, her chubby little hands just grip her shirt tighter, burying her face into her neck through her loud wales.
“Edie, c’mon baby,” Y/N tries to soothe her, doing her best to maneuver her little body from Rena’s to hers, “Mommy and daddy are gonna be back so soon! In the meantime, you get to have fun with me and Uncle Harry!”
Harry’s heart swells at that and he clears his throat, stepping forward.
“Eden, I know it’s scary. We all get a little nervous sometimes.” He murmurs, testing the waters by reaching out to smooth his palm over her messy hair, “Right, Y/N?”
“Auntie Y/N gets nervous all the time, bug. But I promise, we’re gonna have the best night together.”
Eden sniffles, eyes peering over her mother’s shoulder to size Harry up. Finally, she loosens the fist clutching her shirt.
“Uncle Harry, do you like Peppa Pig?”
. . .
Rena and her boyfriend all but made a run for it the second Eden showed some sort of comfort. As soon as she allowed her mom to put her down, she wrapped her fingers around Harry’s hand and guided him to the living room, requesting that he put Peppa Pig on. The more he showed interest, the more she trusted him — currently, they were playing princess tea party, with a tiara tucked into Harry’s curls as they sip imaginary concoctions to the tune of Peppa’s snorts.
“Edie, it’s time to get ready for bed,” Y/N says sometime around 7:30. Per the packet left by Rena, her usual bedtime is 7, but Harry pushed her off for another half an hour.
“No!” Eden immediately yelps with a stubborn shake of her head.
“We can keep playing tomorrow, bug—“
“Not sleepy!” She exclaims, even though her eyes are already hazy with exhaustion.
“Eden, it’s past your bedtime. It’s time to go upstairs.”
For the second time that day, Eden begins to wale in Y/N’s face. Her lips part and Harry watches on as her cheeks redden, his stomach tight with anxiety from the discomfort of the situation.
“Why don’t we just start with brushing our teeth and putting our jammies on?” Harry speaks up, “You can pick out a book to read, too.”
In classic toddler fashion, her cries immediately cease and she nods her head sadly, her bottom lip formed in a pout. He chuckles at that and Y/N swallows a sigh, standing from the couch.
“No!” Eden suddenly exclaims, and Harry’s stomach drops again, “Want Uncle Harry. Not Auntie Y/N.”
Y/N blinks before sitting back down, giving a curt nod to Harry.
“Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
Feeling guilty, he nods, accepting Eden’s small hand in his as they go upstairs to her bedroom.
. . .
Y/N has never cried in front of Harry, but she supposed there’s a first for everything.
When he comes back down from putting Eden to sleep, she can’t even pretend like her eyes aren’t watery, cheeks stained with salty tears and a tired chest from keeping her sobs silent. As soon as he sets his eyes on her, he rushes over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Shhh,” he murmurs into her hair, “Breathe, Y/N, you’re okay.”
“I’m— I’m gonna be s-such a shit mom!”
His heart breaks and he shakes his head, holding her even tighter to his chest.
“Don’t say that, it’s not even close to the truth. You’re gonna be amazing.”
“S-she hates me though! And she loves you! That’s what the next 18 years a-are gonna be!”
“Y/N,” Harry sighs, leaning down to catch her eyes. He presses a gentle thumb to her face, wiping away the fallen tears. “She’s a toddler. She’ll hate me tomorrow and forget who I am in a week. Three is a tough age, I just finished the toddler chapter in that parenting book I’m reading.”
She swallows a hiccup, smiling gently. His recent addiction to parenting books always makes her laugh, even if she teases him about them all the time.
A silence takes over as he continues rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades. She sniffles periodically before peering up at him through slightly damp eyelashes.
“Do your parenting books say anything about ordering ice cream for dessert?”
A dimpled smirk appears on his face. “Mm, not sure. I brought a few, we can look through them together.”
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throughwoodsanddirt · 21 days
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Nick Folio x f!reader !!! This is an 18+ fic. Anyone who interacts with this fic/my profile and does not have an age in their bio will be blocked. This is also a work of fiction, with a fictionalized version of a real person. If it isn’t your thing, don’t read.
Warnings/Tags: smut, p in v, brat tamer!Folio, small town blue collar fisherman Folio gets his own warning, elements of hunter/prey, fluff, brief knifeplay Summary: Leave it to your friend to abandon you at the diviest bar on vacation. At least this guy has the heart to be your bar buddy…and then some. Word Count: 12k
Authors Note: this is all because of that one *fucking photo* of Folio lighting a joint! bc you know what! his ass would listen to divorced dad rock unironically! this has been a months long endeavor, and we're stoked to be posting it finally. we’d like to thank the Academy and Craig Reynolds for giving our guy Nick Folio a place to talk about things he loves. Like fish. Even though this is posted Scout's (my) blog, please, PLEASE give @cowpokeomens love for this story, as well!!!! Bunny did so, so much amazing work on this and she is so talented!!!!!!
Betas: @rottingfern @the-way-of-words kiss kiss mwah you are both very good Banner: @throughwoodsanddirt Divider: @cafekitsune
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“Through every forest Above the trees  Within my stomach Scraped off my knees  I drink the honey Inside your hive  You are the reason I stay alive”
Closer - Nine Inch Nails
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The floor may as well be made out of double-sided tape, the way your shoes stick with each step. Luckily, the squeaky, squelching sound of rubber on concrete is mostly covered by the music overhead - something definitely akin to prehistoric Nickelback. A thorough mop and new playlist wouldn’t save this place, though; that would only be putting lipstick on a pig.
A faded cardboard cut-out of Hank Williams grins at you from his corner by the jukebox. He looks particularly dilapidated: hat warped, and covered in various Sharpie scribbles that vary from innocent to phallocentric. You can’t help but wonder if the warped cardboard at the base is from piss; some of the regulars don’t look too far from incontinence, so it wouldn’t surprise you. 
The maroon leather of the booth you sit in is cracked, haphazardly bound together by packing tape. You count five large splits in the leather on your side and another two similar splits in the booth across from you, where your friend sits now. She’s draping herself over some smarmy, greasy motherfucker with wraparound sunglasses perched atop of his high and tight. She’s laughing so goddamn loud. For Christ’s sake, she’s never had a good sense of volume or personal space, and you forgot just how much it’s amplified by alcohol. When she meets your impassive gaze, it’s almost like she’s saying, ‘Why the fuck aren’t you laughing? Please make me look good, at least look like you’re having fun!’
When she suggested ‘bar crawling’ for one of the vacation activities, this wasn’t what you had in mind. You thought maybe you’d drive to the city an hour away, hit up some of the gastro pubs and breweries. 
“This place looks fun! And Maps lists it as a single dollar sign place - we should go there!” She chimed. You’re on a budget - can’t say no to cheap drinks. She tends to have good taste, so what the hell, why not?
Jokes on you. This is the first stop, she’s already sloshed, and you’re miserable.
In the interest of appeasing her, you give a half-hearted chuckle as you scoot out of the sticky booth with a quick, “I’m going to get another beer,” rolling your eyes as soon as your back is turned.
You brush a couple of peanut shells aside as you rest your elbows on the bar, sighing as you scan the meager excuse of a menu. Gasoline starts to look cheaper (and more appetizing) the longer you look. Maybe, if you bat your eyelashes enough, the bartender will take pity on you and offer to put an extra lime in your Corona.
“I hate to tell you, but burning a hole in the menu won’t make any new drink options appear.” A voice interrupts your thoughts, and you commend yourself for not rolling your eyes. You beg for a god - any god - to strike you down so you don’t have to talk to another person in this godforsaken dive.
But you know you should say something…
Slowly, your turn toward the source, first laying eyes on a calloused hand loosely gripping a beer bottle of something domestic that makes your nose scrunch up.  And then, you see his face. 
There are several words you could use to describe him, but as you scan him, none of them sit right: Grimy? A little harsh, even for you. Mangy just makes you think of stray dogs and is also a little mean. He’s not bad-looking, just…Scruffy. 
That’s it: scruffy, from his muddied work boots to the black, worn Carhartt overalls covered with even more mysterious ichor. 
His dark, presumably greasy hair is tucked under a backward trucker cap, and something that looks like a bird tattoo peeks from the vee of his unbuttoned henley. His face is weather-beaten, covered in a layer of dirt and grime from tradeswork, but his brown eyes carry a sparkle that feels like a respite from this godforsaken bar. The lack of crow’s feet around his eyes tells you he’s young enough to be around your age, and your stomach stirs when it hits you that he’s actually pretty damn cute. 
He jerks his head over his shoulder, nodding toward your booth. “Your friend’s got one hell of a cackle.”
“Yeah, she’s…” You chuckle sheepishly, looking over your shoulder at the booth where she sits. Whoever the scuzzy drink of water is, she’s head over heels for him. He’s flashing her a smile while tickling her sides, and Jesus you are glad you drove, because no way in hell is she getting behind the wheel in the state she’s in.
Hell, she’s probably not going home with you anyhow. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you turn your attention back to the bar. A pint glass with - of course - some variety of piss beer sits in front of you now. Brow furrowed, you politely tell the bartender: “Oh, I didn’t order this–”
“Nope, I did.” The tradesman chimes in. You turn toward him again, brow still furrowed as he nods a thank you to the bartender, who smiles back before walking away.
“Can I be completely transparent?” You ask in a hushed tone after the bartender walks away.
He leans in with a single nod, silently urging you to go on.
“I don’t feel comfortable having another glass of this without double-checking that I’m caught up on my tetanus shots… but I really appreciate the gesture.” You’re shocked to make it to the end of your sentence, expecting this guy to - what? Interrupt you? Yell at you about how much he loves this shitty bar? 
You’re doubly surprised to see that he’s responding with shoulder shaking laughter. “Understandable. What do you normally drink? No – ” He holds his hand up, as if he’s stopping you mid-sentence when you haven’t even opened your mouth. “Let me guess…”
Amused, you quirk a brow at him. “Be my guest.” You gesture for him to go on as you turn toward him, resting your elbow on the bar. He’s squinting, and you feel like a bug under a microscope, as his eyes flick back and forth between yours. 
God, when was the last time someone looked at you this intently? A few years ago, when you first started college? A year ago? Either way, it’s been far too long, and you forgot how your face feels when it heats up like this - under the attention of another. Specifically, a lover – “Something fruity, with lots of juice and rum.” He interrupts your thoughts once more, all cocky, like he knows your sort all too well. Well. Two can play at that. “Fruit and molasses is better than carbonated piss, thanks.” You say with a meaningful nod to his glass. “I usually take a whiskey coke.”
He raises his eyebrows again, clearly surprised at your response. “Y’know, Dean keeps a bottle of Jack behind the bar. I’ll bet it’s even aged a couple years by now.”
Snorting despite yourself, you try to suppress your giggle when the bartender - Dean - looks over at the two of you. “If Jack is whiskey, then Grey Goose is rubbing alcohol.”
The scruffy stranger chuckles, which prompts a wink and a smile from Dean, who is all too proud of himself. You give a polite smile before looking over at your friend and the stranger,  who are now nose to nose as they exchange whispers. The longer you look, the more concerned you get as you see the twinkle in her eye, her signature ‘I’m head over heels’ gaze. At least, you tell yourself it's concern and not jealousy. 
Maybe it’s the cheap beer softening your heart, but you feel kind of…happy for her, too. Which is a first, considering this isn’t her first time going home with someone else.
Maybe part of it is because you haven’t been as lucky as her, recently.
Your expression must say it all, because he cranes his neck into your field of vision to catch your attention, nodding sympathetically. “I get it. That’s Mark, by the way. He’s a tool, but he’s harmless. Wouldn’t hurt anyone.” 
Looking at the way Mark runs his grimy hands through his even greasier hair, his gold tooth glinting in the fluorescent light as he throws his head back in laughter, you fight the urge to groan.
Annoying, but harmless. That’s a small relief, at least.  “I’m Nick, by the way. Nick Folio.” You tear your eyes away from Mark to introduce yourself and shake the hand of your freshly-appointed bar buddy. His hand all but dwarfs yours, calloused skin rough to the touch, but nonetheless warm.
“Nice to meet you.” You remark, and you mean it - he’s at least being nice, and he even bought you a drink! Sure, a disgusting, potentially drugged drink, but you’re taking what you can get tonight. You give him your name, and he’s about to respond when a too-loud voice yells directly in your ear.
“Heeeyyyy!” You flinch as you whip your head toward your friend, who has a death grip on Mark’s bicep, and her smile is the most toothy you’ve ever seen it. 
“I think we’re gonna head back to Mark’s to hang out,”  She giggles, stumbling into Mark, who puts a careful hand over hers as she regains her footing. “You gonna be okay here?” Her glassy eyes flick between you and Nick, with a tacky waggle of her eyebrows.
Well. There go your plans. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but it still stings. It’s probably for the best, though, because you might chew her out if you’re around her any longer. Bonus - if she leaves, you can leave. 
“I’ll be fine, you guys be safe.” The last part included a pointed look at beady eyed Mark, who gives a polite nod and smile before turning toward the front door. 
“Same goes for you two!” She calls over her shoulder as she stumbles alongside Mark, whose focus is now on getting her safely out the door.
You sigh after they exit, shaking your head as your eyes roll up to the ceiling. Mid eye-roll, you freeze, wondering how the fuck someone had managed to get a Coors Banquet sticker up there. It’s a dive bar, you remind yourself. Why are you surprised? 
But now’s your chance. You can head back to the inn and relax in peace and quiet.
Pulling out your wallet to rifle through your dollar bills, you try to do the math on what 20% of a shit beer would come out to. This beer must’ve been what, four dollars? So less than a fourth of that…
“Standard bar etiquette is $1 for a high-quality, untouched beer.” Nick’s voice breaks your concentration, and even though he isn’t grinning when you look up, his tone sounds like he wants to, like he’s amused by your lack of social awareness. 
“Leaving so soon?” He tacks on, a hint of disappointment now coloring his tone.
You shrug. “Not much else for me to do, when I’m not even drinking at a bar.” The only bar in town, you don’t say aloud.
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in feigned sadness. “And here I was thinking you were enjoying our conversation as much as I was.” He’s egging you on, a sly smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. 
“Yeah, actually, you’re terrible company.” You respond flatly, but you can’t help that your lips curve into a small smile. “In fact, I should probably stay so you don’t harass some other poor girl with your awful taste in beer.”
He’s cheesing at you now, clearly delighted. Your stomach flips again when he looks away bashfully, smiling at his lap before fishing out his wallet.
“Well, you’re in luck, because I was actually about to leave.” He drops a few bills on the counter before he turns to look at you again, eyes entirely too intense for his light, teasing tone. “Might go raise hell somewhere else, if you wanted to keep an eye on me. Make sure I don’t get into too much trouble.”
He ends his sentence with a wink, and you try your damndest to fight the smile on your face, but it appears nonetheless. “And just what shenanigans did you have in mind tonight?”
He leans back in his seat, and you watch a bit dry-mouthed as he rubs his hands down his thighs before clasping them behind his head, raising an eyebrow suggestively. His biceps bulge under his henley, and you feel like an untamed animal with the way your eyes flick to them. 
“I’ve got a pretty wild evening planned, if you think you can handle it,” he taunts.
You swallow, silently pleading against your will to let your mind go into the gutter. “Try me,” you snark, instead summoning your best, bravest impression of indifference.
He sighs, staring into space. “I need to feed my dog, and I usually have dinner with myself - I can’t keep canceling that, though. I’m forgetting something…” His brow is furrowed, eyes darting around as if his answer is flitting around the room like a hummingbird he can’t quite catch. His humor is dry, and you’re trying so hard to keep up the bit, but you can’t keep your smile as it becomes a grin.
His eyes widen, like the proverbial lightbulb has gone off as he nods when it “hits him”. “Right, I have that bank I need to rob, and my getaway driver dropped out last minute.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he lets out a long sigh. “Ah, and after that I have that damn call with the president, he’s already rescheduled for me twice…”
“Uh huh.” You nod earnestly. “That’s a lot for one guy, and it sounds like you could use some backup. I’d be a bad friend if I let you shoulder that weight alone.” 
He nods with you, eyes scanning over your face, lingering when they fall on your lips. 
“I mean, you said it. Recon at twenty-one hundred, my place?” He pauses, waiting for your response, thumb picking at the paper label on his beer bottle when you take a beat too long to respond. 
“I live over by the old tennis shoe factory, not the one off the highway, but the-”
“You’re talking like I understand any of that. I’m not from ‘round here, partner.” Your faux, over exaggerated accent makes him through his nose.
“Not a problem,” He gives a single nod. “I could take you. One car is stealthier anyways.” He leans in, subtly nodding toward a group of older men sitting across the bar before uttering out of the corner of his mouth. “They’re all gossips, y’know.”
You let out a cackle, smacking your hand over your mouth as a couple of heads turn toward you. Nick bites his lip as he snickers under his breath, gaze lingering on you as you fight to collect yourself. As you take a deep breath while fanning your face, you glance out to the parking lot. Oh, right.
“What about my car?”
“It’ll be fine,” He grunts as he rises from the barstool, slapping a bill on the counter. “Dean’s not gonna call a tow truck for a pretty girl, not if I have something to say about it.”
As you walk out the door, you’re not sure what else you expected as he leads you towards a forest-green Jeep Grand Cherokee. It’s not lifted, which is a green flag in your book.
He jogs ahead, holding the passenger door open for you. “Ever the gentleman, thank you!” You joke as you step in, pleased to see that the interior is surprisingly clean - aside from a sprinkling of pine needles on the floor mats and a pair of work gloves in the backseat.
“Of course, ma’am.” He replies with a southern lilt as he shuts the door behind you.
Sweet Jesus. Ma’am?
He circles the front of the car as you make a mental note to add being called ‘ma’am’ to your ever-growing list of turn ons.
His door slams shut, and the engine rumbles to life as he turns the key. The speakers hum with a fuzzy, radio-station-distorted Diary of Jane.
“Seeing as you’re not from here, I may as well give you the grand tour.” He starts, checking over his shoulder as he reverses. 
“It’s good to know where the potential threats are, we need to plan our getaway route after all.” He shoots you a wink as he shifts into first gear, and if he keeps that shit up, you swear you’re going to turn into a puddle.
A couple hundred yards down the road, he points out his window to a particularly dilapidated gas station. “Now don’t turn your nose up at me, but this used to be the place to go if you needed a quick bite to eat. Hot dogs, breakfast burritos…you name it.” 
It takes a great amount of willpower to not scrunch your nose at him. You cringe on the inside, but stay unflappable on the exterior as you ask, “What happened?”
“Some degens shot it up a couple years back - turf war of some sort. No one died, but it was abandoned the day after the incident.”
“Huh. ‘You’re not you when you’re hungry’, I guess.” You mutter. He snorts. “Never thought I’d take home a girl who references Snickers commercials.”
“Never thought I’d be taken home by someone who calls criminals ‘degens’.” You playfully fire back.
He nods to the side, smirking as he accepts defeat. “Touché.” His southern drawl shows off as he ends it with a strong “-ay”, and the charm of it makes you smile.
The ferns and trees give way to a clearing where an old factory sits. It can’t be more than 3 acres of land, backed by a belt of trees. “This is the tennis shoe factory I told you about. I think if our plans go to shit, we can take shelter here, throw ‘em off our scent maybe?”
“But didn't you say you live close to here?” You question, turning to him. “That’s too close to home, it needs to be further away.” 
You shake your head, clicking your tongue, playfully chiding him. “Good thing I came with you. You’d probably be in jail if I weren’t here to keep you in line and all.”
He smirks, turning to glance at you before snapping his eyes back to the road. “We’ll see how long I stay in line.”
Your stomach drops and your cheeks heat up. This is where your witty banter ends - the cat has your tongue, in uncharted territory nonetheless. Hookups have never been this witty before.
But who said this was a hookup?
Silence falls between you two as he turns onto an unpaved road, pulling as far to the left as he can to avoid the drop off from the paved road to gravel. “County refuses to fill this pothole, says I have to do it.” 
He navigates the gravel road with ease, avoiding all of the potholes with one hand over the wheel, another resting on the gear shift. You take in the ensemble as subtly as you can from the corner of your eye - overalls, veiny hands, jawline, seemingly muscular arms under his henley… How dare he look so fucking good doing something so mundane, and how dare you find it attractive. He pulls off of the gravel and parks the Jeep in front of a tree, a spot he’s clearly designated as his “parking”; but you suppose when you have this much acreage, you can park anywhere you want. Your hand lifts as you go to open your door, but slaps into your lap when he speaks up with a quick, “Don’t even think about it, missy.”
His warning is low, stern. There’s a hint of southern drawl toward the end of the sentence again, the kind that’s subconscious, like he’s tried to stamp it out over the years only for it to stubbornly weasel back in time and time again. It’s cute.
He slams the driver’s door shut, rounding the front of the vehicle in a jog to open your door. 
“Welcome to my home!” He waves his arm in a grand gesture, playing up the gentlemanly role, donning an overdone, posh British accent as he welcomes you. You slide out of the seat, landing in the sod with a soft thump. 
“Oh why thank you!” You reply, with an equally abysmal British accent.
“The properties out here are either built by rich folks or hillbilly hand-me-downs,” He says in his normal cadence while sliding his hands in his pockets. “Clearly, my life of crime has granted me the former.”
As you follow him through the front yard, you take a moment to scan the property, doing your best to avoid sliding around in the mud. His home is a humble single-wide, surrounded by a dense belt of pine trees. All kinds of odds and ends are scattered about: a roll of chicken wire, a half-used, sun-faded bag of potting soil, saw horses… all hints of a life spent working. Unfinished planks lean against the front porch railing, a hammer rests on top of the banister - clearly an unfinished home project. It’s a veritable curb-appeal-be-damned mess, and yet it’s evidence that he cares.
The porch creaks under your feet as you make your way up the stairs. There’s a rustle to your left, and when your head snaps toward the sound, three rabbits scurry into the trees. 
“Oh, you have friends!” You gasp excitedly, craning your neck to try and see them better. 
“Not for much longer,” Nick’s accompanying chuckle is predatory. “Hunting season starts next week.”
You can’t help the frown that forms on your face. “You hunt rabbits?” You sound heartbroken, even to yourself.
“I set out some traps on the property. Gotta be resourceful, y’know?” His tone is caring, as if to soothe your concerns. “There’s no limit to the amount you can catch, and if left alone, they’ll breed like - well,” He shrugs at you, grinning. “Bunnies. Plus, cook ‘em right and they taste delicious.”
You nod - you don’t like thinking about the rabbits caught in a trap, but you can’t blame him for making do with what he has. He holds open the door for you - unlocked, you note - and you step through the threshold into the living room.
“I apologize, it’s no Chateau Marmont, but it’s home.” 
Amber light casts a soft glow over the room when he flicks the light switch. A heavy faux mink blanket - complete with a wolf-howling-at-moon print, of course - is draped over the back of a worn, brown leather couch. Rustic oak baseboards match the wood paneling on the lower half of the walls, while family photos hang in odd places on the upper half, like they’re a temporary fix to hide peeling French floral wallpaper.
A couple empty Gatorade bottles sit on the coffee table, both of which he grabs by the tops of in one hand before walking to the kitchen on your right.
“It’s charming!” You grin. It’s been who knows how long since you've seen a home this dated, and it brings a sense of comfort to you. “It’s got a vintage touch to it, which I always enjoy.” 
“Well, this was my grandmother’s before it was mine, so that checks out.” 
“Really?” 
You take a moment to look at the pictures, not wanting to pause too long - it feels too intimate to stare at them, even though he invited you into his home. 
In a wooden, hexagonal frame, a younger, softer Nick holds a fish half his size, with the help of an older gentleman. Above it is a square, black and white wedding portrait, the same gentleman and an older woman standing together, smiling at the camera. 
There’s a mix of his past, present, and future - with old pictures and hardware for upcoming projects bookending the currently yellowing wallpaper. The haphazardness and eclectic decor check out, then - he’s a bachelor, living in a hand-me-down property. The tension in your chest begins to unravel as you add more pieces to the puzzle that is Nick, this new character in your life, only if for a night. 
Will it only be a night? No, don’t think that far yet. Don’t get lost in the weeds yet. 
You turn your attention back to him, only to be met with a soft gaze. It feels so close, too close, even though he’s a couple feet in front of you. It makes your stomach churn - with what, you’re not entirely sure. Anxiety? Romance? Both?
You just told yourself not to get lost in the weeds, but here you are, still toeing the line of emotions you’re not sure you’re ready to face yet. 
So, you fall back on what you’re good at - levity, sass, anything to keep these mushy feelings at bay. “Disappointing, I thought for a second you were the grandmother.”
He gives you a playful look, smirking as he steps toward the sliding glass door. “Careful, keep up that sass and I’ll put soap in your mouth.” You chuckle, crossing folding your arms over your chest as you amble after him. “You like this with all of your houseguests?”
“Just the pretty ones.” He winks, as he slides the glass door open, standing aside as he lets you walk onto the patio first. Heat rushes to your cheeks again.
He might be a murderer. Don’t get too invested.
You turn to your right, and pause in front of the patio set - if you could really call a singular, ancient rocking chair and an upside-down, dirty, Home Depot 5-gallon bucket “patio furniture.” 
You’re about to ask him where you’re supposed to sit when you collide nose-first with a solid, henley-clad chest. His scent registers before anything else: cigarette smoke, then something warm, like the smell of the outdoors in summertime, with notes of heady musk from a day’s work. You resist the urge to roll around in it, shaking your head slightly to realign yourself.
Don’t get lost.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to knock ‘ya out.” He apologizes, scooting around you to settle himself on the bucket. That leaves the rocking chair for yourself, you figure. You hold the majority of your weight on the arms as you lower yourself, not trusting it to hold together when you sit back. 
“It’s solid,” He doesn’t turn to you, too busy fiddling with one of the flickering electric camping lanterns on the patio bannister. “Built it myself.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Really?” You crane over the side of the chair, inspecting the right arm closer. There's a medley of hand carved woodland creatures - squirrels, foxes, rabbits, deer, with small flowers filling the spaces between. You sit forward, turning to look across the backrest, where the same animals are mid-stride as if being chased. 
You turn to the left side, intrigued to know the rest of the story, when a cool wind rushing past the porch sends a chill up your spine. Another cool breeze follows your shiver, this time smelling like sandalwood and powered Tide. 
Curious, you look up to see a flannel jacket hanging in front of your face. You blink up at Nick once, twice, before accepting the offer with a hushed “thank you” as you wrap it around yourself. The fleece lining is scratchy from multiple washes, but it makes the best shield from the night time chill when you slide your arms into the sleeves.
“Would you like some coffee? I have decaf, if you’re worried about it being late.” His face is so… relaxed, like deceiving you is the furthest thing from his mind. Still, you’re wary about taking a drink from a stranger. 
But it’s a bit late for caution, considering you’re in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home.
You could always hotwire his Jeep…
He must see the hesitation on your face, because he’s biting his lip to fight back a grin. It doesn’t quite match the softness in his eyes that betray his concern. “You can watch me make it. I’ll even have a cup first if that makes you feel better.”
It’s nice to be in the company of someone considerate, for once. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the pressure in your chest becomes so tense that you’re left with no choice but to exhale. You nod. “I’d appreciate that.”
His grin widens and he stands to head inside, holding the screen door open and waiting for you. “C’mon then, I need your supervision so you know I’m not one of them city-slicker boys who drugs folk.” 
You can’t fight back the chuckle that escapes your mouth as you follow him in. Didn’t expect to go home with anyone, not to mention someone that says ‘folk’ unironically. 
He moves through the house quickly, even in the dim light. You wonder how long he’s lived here, if his family has owned this property for decades, if he’s happy.
His Mr. Coffee looks like a World War II relic: covered dings and dents, the once-white plastic now yellowed, and damn, you’re thankful for your espresso machine back home. Something about watching him go through the motions relaxes you, and you find yourself focusing on the way the muscles in his back ripple underneath that goddamn henley as he moves. 
Your eyes glaze over at the thought of him doing this the morning after, shirtless, maybe wearing sweatpants and silly, fuzzy socks. He has to own fuzzy socks of some kind - if so, he probably  received them as a Christmas gift and reluctantly wears them when he has no clean pairs.
He hits the “Start” button, taking a drag off of the vape he’s had in hand all night, and you curse yourself for not paying as much attention as you should have. 
“What’s in that?” You inquire, nodding your head towards the pen, willing your eyes to refocus. 
“Sour Diesel.” Comes his response around a puff of smoke.
Furrowing your brows, knowing you’re about to sound stupid, you question further. “You’re smoking… Diesel?”
He huffs a laugh, having a small coughing fit in the process. “No, it’s sativa.” 
When this garners no reaction from you, he tries again. “Weed?”
“Oh.” That’s your brilliant reply? He’s smirking at you now. Way to leave your dignity at the bar. “So… it’s like a weed vape?”
He outright chortles. “It’s a ‘dab pen,’ but yes. It uses oil instead of the plant.”
You hum thoughtfully, nodding as if any of this makes sense to you.
“Would you like to try?” There’s no ounce of pressure in his tone as he holds the pen toward you, and it makes your heart warm.
“I’m still verifying that you haven’t drugged my coffee.” You remind him, giving the coffee pot a pointed look. “Besides,” You scrunch your face. “I prefer unleaded.” 
You feel so fucking cheesy for wishing you could wrap his laugh around you like a blanket, but it can’t be helped. It’s hearty, loud, unashamed, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. 
“Wonderful, you’re a woman of taste.” He jokes once he catches his breath.
You’re unable to linger on why his blinding grin makes your stomach somersault, because the coffee pot’s shrill beep grabs his attention. It’s a little awkward, the silence between you two as you watch him evenly distribute the coffee into two tin mugs. You wonder if he’s just as nervous and flustered as you, if at all. 
“And for you -  grass-fed, non-GMO, drug-free coffee.” You give the mug one last glance, thanking him softly, which he answers with a mid-sip nod. Gingerly, you take a sip, and it's not the best cup you’ve had, but that somehow adds to the pleasantness of the moment. There’s no road noise, an owl hoots in the distance, and you feel weight lift off of your shoulders as your mug taps against the counter. It catches you by surprise when you look up to find his eyes already on you. Actually, it’s stupefying - you’d swear he was looking at Venus de Milo, the way his eyes are wide, a small smile on his face…
Transfixed, that’s the word. After a second, he’s blinking, eyes darting around the room, trying to look anywhere but at you as his cheeks turn pink.
“I’m gonna take a shower real quick and change clothes if that’s alright with you?”
Sure thing, that’s alright with you. More than alright. Whatever he needs to do to be comfortable. You almost want to ask if he needs help reaching his back, but you know it’s too soon. 
He takes another hit off his vape - no, dab pen. The wisps of smoke that curl in the air when he exhales remind you of the cartoons you loved watching as a kid where the raging bull would drag its hoof along the ground, preparing to charge; though his presence is not that of a bull in a china shop. It’s gentle. Steady. 
When he speaks up again, you’re pulled from your nostalgia. “You’re welcome to hang out on the porch, or inside if it gets too cold. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Take your time.” You watch as he disappears down the hallway, deciding to spend your time on the porch. With your mug in hand, you head back to your rocking chair. 
When you settle in, you take the time to admire your surroundings: string lights hang around the awning, covered in pine needles and dust, illuminating the area just enough to see the yard. A sky full of stars twinkles above you as crickets chirp.
As another rabbit runs into the dark forest, you’re reminded of the summers you would spend at your grandparents’ house. They lived out in the middle of nowhere, next to some lake you can never remember the name of. Back then, it scared you: the endless noises, the possibility that a wild animal would stumble upon you and deem you a suitable dinner. You would cower inside after the sun had set, keeping a flashlight tucked under your pillow in case something decided to go “bump” in the night.  You don’t think age has made you any braver. Hell, last week you screamed when a spider the size of a peanut butter cup decided to join you in the shower.
This situation should scream serial killer: a rundown house in the middle of the woods, in a podunk town you don’t know your way around. Maybe what eases your nerves is how much this reminds you of your grandparent’s home.
No, that doesn’t negate the fact that he could be sharpening a knife right now.
On cue, a rush of water flows through the pipes, and your fear continues to dissipate little by little. No one sharpens knives in the shower, right? …Right?
He’s showering. He’s showering after a long day at work while you’re bundled on the back porch, coffee in hand, like you’re in a Hallmark movie.
You're in your head, losing yourself in the scenario where you have some land way out in the middle of nowhere, where deer wander up to your porch as the evening sun sets below the horizon. Maybe you’d have chickens or pigs - there’s certainly enough acreage, assuming this land is all his. 
You wouldn’t mind mornings in a place like this, having your first cup of coffee in your pajamas while listening to the animals wake up alongside you. Ideally, it’d be nice to wake up with someone beside you -
The screen door squeaks, and your gaze snaps toward the door. Nick is a vision when he emerges holding his tin cup, dab pen, and a silver flask: his wet hair drips onto his shoulders, soaking the fabric covering them. The sides are cut short, the top part flopping over to brush past his ears, longer than the crew cut you thought he had under his hat. His face has been scrubbed clean of dirt and oil, his skin now glowy and even under the soft porchlight. 
The gas station three-wolf-moon tee shouldn’t look as good as it does: he’s cut the sleeves to transform it into a revealing muscle tank, and your eyes helplessly flick to the exposed parts of his toned torso, teeth sinking into your lower lip when your eyes meet that smooth skin. He’s not defined like a dehydrated bodybuilder; this kind of muscle only comes from years of manual labor. Black jeans and the tattoos scattered on his arms complete the ensemble. 
He is handsome as all get out, and you’re fucked.
In an effort to preserve your dignity, you turn your attention to your coffee cup, taking a deep breath before looking back at him, desperate to keep your mind away from the gutter. “What do you do for a living?”
He’s halfway through pouring whatever’s in his flask into his coffee when he looks up at you. “Hmm? Oh, I work construction.” 
You nod. This makes sense, given his… everything. “So, you work in construction, hunt rabbits, and build furniture?”
He laughs lightly, swirling the contents of his mug before taking a sip. “I fish, too.”
“Oh, so he does it all, does he?” You tease playfully as you raise an eyebrow, grinning at him.
He chuckles shyly, cheeks tinged pink in the low light. “Well, you know what they say about idle hands…” 
His words make you glance at his hands, calloused and roughened. Your mind trails off to what they might feel like against your skin, the coarse pads of his fingertips digging into your flesh. You can’t help but think that even if his hands were busy, they would still be doing the Devil’s work. 
A knot forms in your belly.
“That’s true…” You nod as you sit up, shifting your weight slightly in an effort to ground yourself, to clear your head, to seem normal. “What do you fish for?”
“Trout.” He responds without any hesitation. He looks over at you, continuing upon seeing your curious look. “There’s lots of bass around here, but trout’s the best. You gotta know what you’re doin’.”
“So it’s not just throwing a worm on a hook and waiting hours on end?” You deadpan. 
He flashes another smile at you, and if he keeps this act up, he’ll find himself smiling from under you. “Yes and no.” 
There’s a beat of silence as he looks at you, the glint in his eye saying ‘Once I start talking, there’s no going back’. You nod to give him the go-ahead.He rests his elbows on his knees as he continues, a glint in his eye that tells you he’s been dying to talk about this: “Bass - bass will eat anything. They’re easy,” He takes a long drag off his pen, blowing smoke into the night. “Trout can be skittish, though. You’ll scare them off if you’re not careful. You gotta sneak up on ‘em.”
Whatever lingering apprehension you have melts off as you watch the smoke dissipate. He’s too genuine for his own good, maintaining the same light, soft-spoken tone throughout the conversation, though it’s clear that he’s deeply passionate about. The last of your earlier worries melt away the more he speaks, taking all remaining semblance of a threat with them as your body sinks deeper into the rocking chair. 
“You can sneak up on fish?” You almost hate how interested you sound. 
“Mhm.” He hums an affirmative while taking another sip. “I can’t go around tellin’ you all my secrets, though. You might get too good and beat me in the Trout Roundup this year.”
You make a mental note to ask what the hell a “Trout Roundup” is at a later point. 
“I solemnly swear e to use this information for my personal recreational trout fishing, and not for evil.” You declare as you hold up a three finger salute. 
His grin asks you to beg for his coveted secrets but turns to a look of false surprise. “Oh, so you’re a recreational fisher?” You can’t contain the smirk on your face when it becomes a full-blown grin. “No, but if you keep talking, I will be.”
He laughs, more smoke coming out of his nose - tinted pink from the cold - with each huff of laughter. “You got me there, that was good.” It’s mesmerizing, the way the smoke catches the porch light, and you accept that there’s no way your mind can avoid the gutter now. 
You internally groan when you realize that you’re hooked - all pun intended. 
Fluttering your eyelashes, you try again. “Please?” 
He’s quiet for a moment, eyes staring into yours over his cup. You can tell he’s debating it - these were trade secrets, probably something he only learned by trial and error. But while he’s having an internal debate, you’re wondering if his gaze is this playful when it’s between your legs — 
“I’ll be right back.” He says quickly, hurrying back into the house. 
You don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing before he re-emerges, holding a tackle box while a toothpick hangs out of the corner of his mouth.
Jesus fucking Christ, does he know what he’s doing?
He places the tackle box on the ground in front of him, cracking it open. 
“I use a six-pound test - that’s fishing line.” He’s sitting on the bucket again, leaning in conspiratorially with his elbows on his knees once more as he talks around the toothpick. You nod, motioning for him to continue. His tone is hushed - urgent, down to business, like if he says it too loud, someone will snatch the words right out of the air. “Then a trouble hook-”
“A trouble hook?” You interrupt, needing clarification.
“Well, it’s called a treble hook, but I call ‘em trouble hooks.” 
Your eyes widen slightly. “Why?”
“Because you’re gonna run into trouble if this thing gets ‘ya.”
His gaze is matter-of-fact, matching his tone as he holds the hook between you two: three dangerously sharp prongs swoop in a “U” shape, with a barb near each point. You have to give it to him - it does, in fact, look like trouble. You shiver at the thought of it snagging on you as he continues on.
“I use these things called wooly buggers - it’s a fish streamer that looks like the stuff trout like to snack on.” He holds up a box of fuzzy-looking worms, grateful that you’re not encountering any slimy, crawling things like you had imagined. 
You stand up, walking over to get a better look, hoping you don’t collapse or throw yourself at his knees and beg for him to talk fish to you until you come undone. 
“You can hold ‘em, if you want.” He hands you the box, which you take delicately, not wanting to mess up something that’s clearly important to him. 
But the fire in your belly is scorching hot, and the devil on your shoulder is whispering in your ear.
“So, there’s no worm?” You question, holding the fuzzy creatures up to the light. 
He shrugs. “Sometimes, I’ve used ‘em before. You don’t need a worm, though. Maybe the trout likes the way the wooly bugger wriggles around, I’m not sure, but it works.”
“Are they expensive?” You ask, taking a slow step towards the edge of the porch. Subtle enough that it looks like you’re shifting your weight.
“Nah,” he shakes his head at you. “You can get ‘em at Walmart.”
“Ah.” You hum. 
Another step back. “But they’re pretty important?”
He frowns slightly, eyes squinting and brow furrowing in confusion. “Well, yeah, they work the best, so-”
“And you’d be really upset if you lost them, right?” One last step. You’re at the edge of the porch now, tightening your fingers around the small box.
Realization dawns on his face, and you can’t help the devious smile that forms at the sight of his changing demeanor. Slowly, his hand lifts to the toothpick, eyes dead set on yours, and that’s all the answer you need.
He flicks the toothpick into the yard, standing up slowly as if to say ‘You want to play? Well, so do I. Run’. 
If that doesn’t motivate you, what the fuck else will?
With a final, mischievous smirk, you’re off. Like a bolt of lightning, you’re jumping off the porch to run around the side of the house. It’s exhilarating, the way your heart thumps in your chest as you run, and you can’t stop the near-hysterical giggle that escapes you.
But you don’t hear the thump of boots on the sod behind you as you round the front of the single wide, and you slow your sprint to a jog. At your 2 o’clock, a few yards away, a branch snaps. Whipping toward the direction of the sound, you see another rabbit scamper into the woods, disappearing in the black of night. You heave a sigh of relief, knowing that’s one less threat you need to worry about. But where the fuck did he — You feel his arms around you before you hear the screen door shut. The harsh clanging sound of metal hitting metal reverberates in the still night. The yelp that flies out of you is equal parts fear and excitement as he tightens his grip around your waist. You look over your shoulder, trying to get a look at your captor, only to be met with wet hair and warm skin against your cheek. Digging your heels into the sod does nothing to slow him as he drags you up the porch steps, hindering your attempted escape. 
As the ground underneath you turns from sod to unfinished board to metal threshold, you’re kicking, laughing, clutching the fly assortment in one arm while the other tries to weasel its way between his arms. He’s breathing heavily, grunting in your ear as he carries you into the house, and you catch your reflection in the cheap, warped entryway mirror: your hair sticks up in every direction, skin sparkling from the warmth of the flannel jacket, and you’re panting like a wild animal. With how tight his arms are around you, you may as well be one.
You risk a glance at Nick, and his dark gaze meets your mischievous one in the mirror, flicking between your bright eyes and smirk. His jaw is set, and it’s here that you notice his cross earring swinging gently, catching the overhead entryway light. 
As if he couldn’t get any hotter.
With his eyes locked on yours, he leans in, breath hot, lips brushing the shell of your ear, as he growls:
“Gotcha.” Christ. There’s no way his intention is pure. The knot in your stomach tightens, but you don’t want to give in yet - not when this flavor of tension is so delicious.
As you work to catch your breath, you develop a plan: make him think you’re rolling over - slither in, betray his trust, and then sprint. With a deep breath, you let your body relax, enough to convince him of acquiescence. You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as you check in with your body like you’re in a counseling session: where are you holding tension?
Inhale. The bulk of the tension is in your gut, sending a steady warmth through your body, namely your core. Your back is tense, frozen in place from trying to wrestle out of his grip. No way in hell you can loosen the knot, but you can certainly roll your hips into his - just subtle enough that it’s innocuous, like it’s not insinuating anything.
Exhale. His arms flex, enough to ensure that your movement isn’t an attempt to wriggle away from him. But the way your hips brush against him has him biting his lower lip, has him sighing - and you think it’s subconscious, but regardless of the motive behind it, you know you have him by the balls.
Who’s the hunter now?
Inhale. All thoughts stop when the pressure around your waist loosens, and instinct kicks in. Now.
In a snap, you’re out of his arms, hollering, “Not yet, motherfucker!” as you turn the corner to sprint down the narrow hallway. He slides on the hardwood floor, taking off after you, only to slam into the wall like the cars in those racing movies you watched as a kid. You stop short on the runner rug, the fabric tangling at your feet, catapulting you to the ground. Nick follows you down quickly after. 
It’s a scramble of elbows and knees as he finally manages to pin your wrists above your head in one hand, grabbing the box with the other. It clatters against the hardwood flooring as he tosses it into the adjacent room. 
“Try running now, firecracker.” He grins down at you, pupils dilated so wide that his eyes look pitch black.
Sly motherfucker. You’re breathing even heavier after your tussle on the ground, not missing the way those dark eyes dart down to your tits to see the rise and fall of your breaths. A part of your brain registers something hard pressed against your inner thigh, and inspiration strikes. 
You roll your hips into his, drinking in the way his eyes almost flutter shut. The moment of vulnerability gives you just enough time to flip the two of you over so that you’re straddling his hips, and he looks so damn good like this - cheeks flushed, wet hair splayed beneath his head. Instinctively, you lick a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw, grinding into him again. 
“Fuck.” Nick grunts, large hands coming up to grip your thighs. You’re so close to his face that you can feel his breath fan across your cheeks. It smells like whiskey and coffee, an otherwise terrible combination that has you clenching around nothing. 
You snake a hand down to where you know his cock is, hard and straining in his jeans, and Jesus, you want to see if it’s as huge as it feels. Palming him, you wait for his next move to strike. 
“Want me to fuck you?” He asks huskily, like he’s the one doing the seducing, like he’s the one with the upper hand. 
Hook, line, and sinker.
You inhale deeply, knowing what needs to be done. Finally, it comes out of you in a pitiful whine, submission dripping from your tone: “Please.”
The wild glint in his eye matches the nefarious shine in yours. 
You lean forward, biting at the lobe of his ear before you whisper, “But if you want it, you have to come get it.” 
You’re off of him again in a second, legs carrying you as quickly as they can to somewhere else - anywhere else.
You don’t get far. Now-familiar arms wrap around you once more, dragging you back into his chest. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re being lifted over Nick’s shoulder, taken into one of the dark bedrooms, the dim light of a bedside lamp casting a soft glow.
“Gonna make me work for it, huh?” He grumbles as he flips you over to toss you onto the bed. He rips off his shirt in seconds, and you finally catch a glimpse of the full tattoo on his chest. You were right earlier - it’s a bird, an eagle to be exact. Below it is a trout, helplessly thrashing in its captor’s talons. 
He’s crawling over you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your head, legs tangling with yours. His dark eyes bore lecherously into yours as his hand comes up to your jaw - there’s no turning your head, no room to lash or writhe in his grip. He smirks, a silent boast of satisfaction with himself.
You can’t help but recognize the parallel between you and the tattoo as you’re ensnared.
He widens his eyes ever so subtly, showing off the perfect edges of his irises as he leans closer to you. His nose brushes yours, voice low as he growls another taunt: 
“Where are you gonna run to now, little rabbit?”
The whimper that escapes you is piteously embarrassing as your aching cunt throbs. In the back of your mind, you know it’s pointless to try to gain the upper hand, but you can’t help it: you try to wrestle out of his grasp, desperate to let your tongue find its way to his sternum, to lick from there up his neck in one fell swoop. 
But he tightens his grip, the back of your head bumping against the hardwood with a soft thump. He exhales an evil snicker before giving you an open-mouthed smirk. “Oh-ho, you’re trouble, aren’t you?”
His thigh forces its way between your legs, rubbing up against your cunt with a glorious pressure that makes you throw your head back and keen in earnest. 
“What was that?” He goads before grinding his knee against you again. His voice is all but inside of you, directly in your ear. Another jerk of his knee elicits a prolonged whine that seals your fate - you are pliant, powerless in his hands, and loving every unit of pressure he delivers.
“I can’t wait to devour you.” His lips brush yours as he murmurs. Your mouth meets his in a hungry, undignified collision as your arms wrap around his neck, wet hair falling around your face like a curtain. His tongue passes over your lower lip, and when he licks into your mouth, you’re sold -  it’s earthy, a kiss tasting of coffee and subtle notes of alcohol. 
He smells clean, like soap and bourbon. Even though it’s probably the cheap 25-in-1 body wash that you can grab for three bucks at the supermarket, it’s gasoline on the fire in your belly. 
His skin is soft and burning hot against you. For a fleeting moment, you wonder how the hell he managed to maintain such a high body temperature without a jacket in the cold. 
Your hands sneak down to unbuckle his jeans, getting all the way to the zipper before he pulls back from the kiss. He’s hungrily staring down at you, and you allow yourself to flirt with the idea of him eating you alive when he barks out a command:
“Take your clothes off.” 
Hm. No.
“Do it for me.” You respond defiantly, leveling with his gaze.
The tug on your hair is equal parts bliss and pain, but the ferocity in his eye makes it all worth it.
“Damn right, you’re not from here.” He growls through gritted teeth, pulling your hair once more and eliciting another whine from you. “Your manners would be better.” 
You smirk. He’s waiting, you think to yourself, waiting for you to ask nicely. Part of you wants to roll over and beg, let him have his way… but a louder, more stubborn part of you has the reins now. 
So, you don’t move a muscle, prolonging the silence as he waits for you to respond. You’re holding eye contact as he sits back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You wanna try that again?” He’s holding his chin high, quirking an eyebrow up.
God, not one of these motherfuckers…revels in drawing it out for sooo long just so he can get his power trip. Just man up and do it, already.
You don’t realize you’ve said the last thought out loud until Nick is viciously fighting your jeans off of your legs, nearly tearing the denim in the process. Pure compulsion drives his hands while he mutters something about how he didn’t realize he brought home a “fucking brat” and “how much you’ll regret this”.
Your pants are rolled into a ball, thrown aside haphazardly as he pauses for a moment, staring at your soaked panties before both hands are tearing them off in one swift motion. The sound of fabric ripping at the seams combined with cool air on your soaked cunt makes you whine.
“God damn…” He whispers, transfixed on your core as his tongue swipes over his lower lip.  
Nick needs no iron hooks to excerberate your mind. The resplendent, primitive hunger with which he eyes your cunt liquefies any thoughts you have left and distills them into the single, utterly carnal need to do unspeakably embarrassing things in chase of an orgasm. His gaze flashes a downright ravenous, wicked flare, torturously drinking down your wet-brained desire into the gravitational vacuum of his own. He injects pure lust into your limbs through the needlepoint of his gaze - it prompts a cold shock through you to be on the receiving end of it, like he’s spit your brains back at you through a straw.
Your legs shut on instinct, and it snaps him out of his daze.
He throws the remnants of your panties in the same corner as your pants before his hands fly to your shirt, removing it along with the flannel coat off before shoving them to the foot of the bed. He forces his hands under your back, fingers wildly fumbling against your spine as he grapples with the hooks of your bra. You could arch your back, give him more room to work, but his set jaw and furrowed brow look so cute. After luck with only one hook, he grunts, hands ripping out from under you as he reaches for his nightstand.
“You said to do it for you…” He rationalizes, trailing off as he slips his fingers under the centre gore of your bra to lift it, and you don’t understand what he means until you hear something click in his other hand.
The pocket knife should scare you, but he’s careful as he replaces his fingers with the knife blade up, slicing it open in one, clean stroke as he jerks his hand back.
“Didn’t tell me how.” He finishes as he vigorously pulls your bra from underneath you, tossing it aside as he wastes no time taking a nipple into his mouth. 
Your back arches, desperate to ease the tension in your lower belly as he ardently licks and sucks, leaving hickeys and love bites across your chest as he moves from one breast to the other. You grab hold of his hair at the root, holding on for dear life as you whine his name, desperate to hold yourself together.
You don’t realize your legs have fallen open until he’s lifting his head then kneeling to hook your knees over his shoulders.
The brutishness of his tongue as he licks a wide stripe over your cunt pulls a wanton cry from you, and the vibration of his groan against your already sensitive clit prolongs it as you buck your hips toward him. His hands keep an iron grip on your upper thighs, and his glare is an unspoken warning, a quiet “behave, or else”. 
His tongue circles your clit once, twice, before he’s slowly sliding it back through your folds, down toward your hole. The pressure of his face against your core as he tries to lick as deeply as his tongue will allow is glorious. His damp hair brushes against your thighs as your fingers wrench themselves into his scalp, clawing, tugging - anything to help him closer to you. With this, his nose rubs against your clit as his tongue still fights to find that spot, even if it will never reach, and God, it’s everything. 
It’s lewd, the way you yell his name. At this, he outright moans against you as his tongue slides out, this time, taking his time to find his way back to your clit, like he’s charting every crease and fold. Your grip tightens in his hair, impatience getting the best of you, and he looks at you through half lidded eyes. 
Even in your haze, you can see that he’s drunk on you. The slow rut of his hips against the mattress, the way his fists clutch the plush comforter, the way his half-shut eyes look feverishly into yours tells you he can’t be assertive right now; he can’t tell you to know your place, no matter how much he wants to. The power you wield makes your core pulse, which prompts him to slip his tongue into you one last time before taking your clit in his mouth.
His right hand loosens, stroking the soft skin inside your thigh with the backs of his fingers before lining two up at your entrance, thrusting them in almost as quickly as he lined up. 
He’s hitting all the right spots, and you’re getting dizzy, fluttering, unsure how much longer you can hold on for. How the hell does he know how to do this? Were there romance novels in the house or some shit? Did he take someone else home with him last night? The night before? Are you just a notch in the bedpost?
There’s no opportunity to dwell on it, because he adds a third finger, and you’re whining as your eyes pinch shut, vision turning white at the peripheral.
Your back arches in anticipation, in burning desire to untie the knot in your belly. “I’m right there, just like that, fuck-“
And then the motherfucker pulls his fingers out, leaving you to painfully clench around nothing. Your heaving, needy cry ricochets off his bedroom walls, and he doesn’t muffle you - not like anyone is around to hear you, anyway.
He releases his grip on your thigh to fuss with his belt, hastily pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs, and you shift nervously when it slaps unceremoniously against his thigh.
Your fingertips would barely touch if he’d even bothered to let you hold it, and you’re certain it will go past your belly button when he’s inside you. The logical half of your brain is wondering where the fuck it’s going to fit, but your baser instincts win as you buck your hips to rub against it.
His tongue, the cool air, the intimidating size of his pink cock, how it feels like the smoothest satin as it rubs against your soaked cunt - it’s all so much. Your clit feels like a bundle of frayed wires, your legs shaking, and you’re desperate to have just one moment to collect yourself. 
You begin crawling up the bed. The look in his eye darkens as he grabs your ankles, his grip hurting twice as hard as he pulls you back. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asks with a light, jovial tone which rivals that of a serial killer’s. You squirm under his leery gaze, trying desperately to close your legs. He ignores you, his hands returning to the inside of your thighs to brace them open before he continues. “It’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation.”
It’s so condescending. He must still think he has the upper hand, considering that the contemptuous look in your eye doesn’t phase him, but rabbits are just as clever as foxes.
“And here you are, thinking I was enjoying our conversation as much as you were.” A devilish grin crawls across your face, and the look on his own is priceless. His tongue plays at his cheek when he realizes you’re donning the same tone he had in the bar to throw his words back at him. You see the dam break, gaze darkening as what little of his sweet and playful demeanor vanishes. 
Before you can even think to fight back, he’s got you by the waist, and he’s flipping you onto your stomach. One hand is in your hair, pushing your head into the mattress while the other hand is locked on your hip. Keeping your chin on the mattress, you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window, fully visible against the dark backdrop of the night. 
It’s a little pathetic. Your hair is even more of a tangled mess, eyes alight even in the dim reflection - grinding yourself back against him, panting loudly as you do so. 
“Can’t wait a few seconds, huh?” He mocks, slapping your ass for good measure. You hiss at the sting of it, face flaming red with embarrassment at how much you enjoy it. “Pathetic.” His words echo your thoughts exactly. 
An arm comes up between your breasts. With his hand resting over the base of your neck, he pulls you to his chest, his cock digging into your ass. Instinctively, your arms come up to cover yourself, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty as the window grants any passersby a full body view of you kneeling on his bed.
“What's wrong pretty girl?” His voice is in your ear again, following your line of sight to the window, eyes locking with yours in the reflection while his other hand tangles in the matted mess of hair at the base of your skull. “Afraid someone’s gonna see you?”
You nod, whimpering despite yourself, “Mhm.” 
His voice is icy as he continues, “I think they should see you.”
You gasp as he releases your throat, only for your cheek to be pressed against the window, knees still on the mattress, ass awkwardly sticking out. The cool glass makes your entire body tense, nipples perking up once more as he lines himself up before sliding in too slowly, or maybe not slowly enough, you’re unsure of which one. 
It’s like a bad porno, the way you gargle “Oh my god” as you’re stretched by him. When he can’t go any further, you convulse with the feeling of him so deep inside you, thighs already trembling as you accommodate his girth. He stays still for a moment, and you can see him out of the corner of your eye, gauging your reaction. 
The term ‘rearranging your guts’ hits you in a new light. You’ve never felt this full, and will probably never feel this full again. You blink a few times, clearing the dots from your vision, as he begins to slide out slowly. You moan again, open-mouthed and desperate. It turns into a squeak when he slams back into you. 
Without warning, his pace becomes barbaric. It has you howling, reaching behind you to claw at his arms, his hands, whatever is within reach. You know you’re being loud, but you’re pretty sure that if you tried to contain yourself, you would shatter like a teacup falling off of a skyscraper, with nothing but molecules remaining shattered on the ground. 
During a moment of respite, gasping for air, you hear a deafening squelch. Horrified, you look down, only to realize -
“Look at you,” Nick grunts, as if reading your mind. “Look at what a mess you’ve made of my clean bed.”
Already?
Surely enough, his comforter has a large, dark wet spot underneath your joined bodies. It’s depraved, the way you want to make that spot darker and larger. 
“C’mon, baby, you’ve got more in you.” He encourages you, his free hand sliding over your pelvic bone to rub at your clit. The feeling would make you collapse if there was anywhere to go. But you’re deliciously, fully trapped between the window, his cock, his hands in your hair and on your clit, and all you can do is continue to howl with pleasure. 
Your palms come up to slam against the glass, sliding down until they catch on the trim of the window frame. Your knuckles turn pale with the force of your grip as you grunt, “I’m close, I’m so close Nick -”
He redoubles his efforts, and your eyes actually roll back into your skull for a moment as the pace he sets becomes almost unbearable. You’re right on the brink, losing all semblance of thought when he speaks again.
“Manners.” His voice is strained, like stopping would almost certainly kill him. But you knew he would - if it meant making a point, he would stop, just to torture you further. The hand in your hair slides to your mouth, a single finger wedging between your lips to, hooking into the corner of your mouth and pulling you off of the window.
“Please,” You beg, broken and desperate as you half speak around his finger. You want to resist, to go kicking and screaming into the good night, but submission is irresistible.
Your plea doesn’t sate him, because he pulls you further back, the force promising you a finger-cut chelsea grin should you misbehave. 
“Again.” He growls.
“Please.” It’s humiliating, how whiny and distorted, how slurred you sound. 
The kiss placed on the side of your neck is a sign of approval, and his finger slides from between your lips and back into your hair. 
“Come.”
He resumes his brutal rhythm. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you scream, and you feel your bones tremble as stars burst behind your tightly shut eyelids. The sound of your come splattering against the comforter makes you clench harder around him. His hips stutter with growing inconsistency and force until he sinks his teeth into your shoulder before spilling into you with a long growl.
Your whimper is a mix of humiliation, apology, and arousal as he pulls out. Your legs shake violently, almost collapsing in his absence, but an arm wraps around your ribcage to stabilize you. He’s fighting to catch his own breath, almost heaving as he helps you settle down on bed. You catch one last glance of his smudged window before he’s maneuvering you around the dark wet spots on his comforter to lay down.
You don’t realize how badly you need him to pull you into his chest until he already has, kissing you tenderly wherever he can reach without jostling you too much. Your chest is heaving, legs still shaking, and you just know you look a mess. 
“Pretty girl…” He trails off, peppering kisses on you as you catch your breath, practically melting against him as you come down from the high. 
“Good job, baby.” He coos between kisses. You met him only a couple hours ago, but that’s neither here nor there as his arm comes up to wrap around your waist, rubbing circles on your back. He hums softly, still murmuring sweet praises and pressing soft kisses to your forehead. 
You don’t want to fall, you don’t want to fall, you don’t want to fall. The phrase is like a chant, matching its rhythm to his heartbeat. You don’t want to fall? What - fall in love? Fall asleep? It’s too late to challenge the question further because your head grows heavier, allowing itself to be moved by the rise and fall of his chest as your eyes flutter shut.
It has to be ten minutes later when you gasp, shooting up from the bed to stare at Nick in horror, because he’s jolted from sleep when you exclaim: “Oh fuck!”
He’s up with you in an instant, eyes scanning over you worriedly. “What? What is it?”
“Your meeting with the president! You’re going to miss it - again.” You’re doing everything in your power to not crack a smile, to maintain the careful facade of concern you’ve schooled your face into. 
His shoulders sag with relief when your words sink in. He runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. Then he’s grinning at you, the same hand making its way up to grab your chin. 
“I’ll have my secretary fax him in the morning.” He murmurs as he pulls you in by the jaw for a kiss, dragging you back down into bed, yanking the covers atop both of you as he goes.
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sunrayram · 1 month
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im super interested in alastor’s and niffty’s dynamic in this au!! im not really sure how to word this question but do you have anything youve been thinking about with them, outside of him just being very protective/possessive over her, and her still being fairly loyal to him? any headcanons or ideas you have for the two of them?
Alastor has two whole friends before the events of canon, Mimzy and Nifty. Even though he'll never admit it, he desperately needs both of them.
I've gone into his relationship with Mimzy before, but she basically acts as the only person Alastor can really let loose around. Alastor only really has some genuine fun when Mimzy's around.
When it comes to Nifty, she's the closest thing Alastor has to family on this side of the mortal plane. Nifty is the first soul Alastor owned, and it was honestly a pretty painless affair. At the time, Nifty's ex-husband had still been alive in hell, and Alastor promised to keep her safe in exchange for her soul. The ex-husband has long since been dealt with, but Nifty has no complaints about Alastor still holding her soul. She once jokingly told him that it was likely in safer hands now.
here's some fun stuff about these two!
Alastor cooks, and Nifty bakes. Nifty is the only one who's allowed to go in and out of the kitchen with no complaints from Alastor, and they can spend hours there together, singing along to classic jazz from the radio.
Alastor is not allowed to just say whatever he wants on his radio show, since it's now a part of the Jackpot Casino. That means he has a lot of opinions built up that he's not allowed to share. If he's not yelling these opinions at Husk, he's passionately sharing them with Nifty. She thinks they're funny. Sometimes, she'll bargain with him. He'll be allowed to rant for an hour, and then she'll get an hour to read her latest fanfiction out loud. Only her sfw stuff tho, obviously. (She reads him found family fic as a not-so-subtle-hint of how she feels about him. It goes right over his head.)
Nifty and Alastor play a weird version of fuck/marry/kill when they have the same shifts at the casino. Nifty points out the people she'd fuck/marry, and Alastor points out the people he'd kill. It's fun, I guess.
Nifty really really wants them to get a pet. Alastor banned any discussion of dogs, and Nifty's slightly allergic to cats. She has a list she's been secretly making of animals she thinks Alastor would like. It goes as follows:
Possum: eats bugs. Frog: no fur, not dirty (?) eats bugs. Alligator: Alastor has an alligator skull. Might like them. Bat: eats bugs. Con: Might have rabies? Deer: Maybe some form of kinship. Pig: Actually pretty clean. Makes funny noises. Anteater: eats bugs.
Alastor loves collecting trinkets, which actually annoys Nifty to no end bc it means his room isn't clean/organized. He apologizes by bringing back little gifts whenever he goes out. He also keeps his collections away from areas Nifty frequents so it doesn't bother her as much.
Alastor has banned Nifty from gambling at the casino. The one time she tried, she lost almot 500,000 dollars in one night. Even Husk was horrified.
They're both a bit mad, but they like it that way. Nifty's one of the only people around who doesn't want Alastor to change. Whether or not that's a good thing ... ehhh who knows. But it's priceless to him.
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furbygoblinxiv · 10 months
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Ok now to be annoying about a completely different flavor of Zelda: That cartoon from the 80s that has aged so poorly I take psychic damage every time I watch it (which has been multiple times (I have problems)). A few months ago when rewatching and being sick of the Link's personality from the show (his best feature is how funny the "Well excuuuuse me, princess" line is) I was like "I wish the quiet kid from the games/art was here instead" and accidentally thought too hard and made an au/rewrite of the cartoon lmao.
Anyways Zelda cartoon au where cryptid boy Link saves the post apocalyptic Hyrule of loz 1 and chills in the castle with cartoon Zelda to defend the triforce pieces that they have while trying to find the last piece before Ganon can find it, stumbling across the sleeping loz 2 Zelda along the way lol. Hijinks ensue as he teaches Zelda the brawns to back up her girlboss and he gets an adventure buddy because its dangerous to go alone and Zelda with her boomerang and crossbow goes hard. I think a monster of the week style plot works for the earlier Zelda games, but an overarching plot could coexist with that since that is kinda how games work lol.
As per usual here are a bunch of slapdash barely related sketches of my ideas with my expanded thoughts below bc I think it'd be fun to share:
I look at the official art of Link being a quiet determined little dude with a backpack of tools and wish that that was represented more. Like look at him! What a guy! Imagine giving a quiet puzzle solving 14 year old a sword, lethal magical weapons, and a wasteland to explore! I would love a show about that! In terms of other characters, swap out that annoying fairy character, put in a Navi clone, at least Navi didn't have a crush on Link🤮. Ganon can stay the same so long as he was always a demon pig and was never a Gerudo man because unlike Nintendo, I do not want to imply that the only prominent man of color in the series has only one big braincell thats just screaming "EVIL" on loop. But! Keep Zelda the same, I love her so much in the cartoon, she's obnoxious in a slay girlboss way, maximum vibes. By virtue of not having a paper thin plot, most other characters that were fine get fixed by proxy.
I think plot wise? It takes place a few years after the first game. Initially, Link saved the royal family and they started rebuilding that area of Hyrule, and Link traveled around to help people. One day, Ganon's minions start making attacks on the castle to steal the triforce pieces back to revive him fully, and a Zelda who greatly admires Links steps up to defend the place. Eventually, Zelda requests Link return to help defend the castle while they search for the mysterious hidden third triforce piece in order to combine the full thing and wish for peace in Hyrule. Link agrees and the hyjinks begin.
IIRC the og Link backstory was that he was the son of the hyrulean queen and the elf king or smth? In the manga? I didn't want him to be hylian royalty but I wanted to keep that cryptid vibe, hence why I have him related instead to the great fairy and the kokiri. He just leaves the forest/cave one day with literally nothing to go save Hyrule, what a chad. I think it'd be funny if people describe Zelda as feral due to how boisterous and headstrong she is, especially out on the field, but Link is the quiet version of wild that you don't notice at first. She is openly intelligent and snarky in comparison to "says 3 lines a day, bombs first and asks questions later, explore under every rock and bush" forest kid Link.
It would be fun though if "rushes into danger" Zelda resonated more with the triforce of power and "solves dungeon puzzles for funsies" Link with the triforce of wisdom, then they both resonated with the triforce of courage upon finding it. idk tho lol
I also think two different young Zeldas coexisting with each other after one awoke from a cursed slumber would be really funny. Like that's gotta be so awkward, especially if one has the fighter girlboss slay up to 11 and the other just woke up from a coma to her family gone and her kingdom destroyed and just kinda wants to read books and drink tea in peace. Imagine being the same age or older than your great (great?) aunt. Or imagine if the old lady Impa nursemaid to Zelda 1 Zelda was the young Impa nursemaid to the Zelda 2 Zelda. Wild.
If I wasn't incapable of remembering to finish writing wips I'd write that series lol. Alas, this is all I can pull for now.
I'd love to call this propaganda to go watch the show but maybe don't because its yikes. This is moreso propaganda for someone to make a Zelda cartoon show instead of the movie that I sense Nintendo is plotting to make. Also, if you've read this far, I should mention I also will probably be posting art from some of my actual long term Zelda aus beyond just expanding on the cartoon, though I may continue to do that if my train of thought continues on these tracks.
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hypervoxel · 18 days
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Jumble of headcanons in no particular order about Vark because I need to write them down somewhere to pretend to be organized
He started off sooo cute and tiny, like the size of a guinea pig. And he made laser noises like a baby Cuban crocodile.
He was so so tiny. He did not stay tiny.
Sharks sense electricity! He's naturally drawn to Vox when Vox is taking in or letting off too much power. He naturally interrupts Vox's overstimulation and warns about seizures, so Vox trained him some actual medical alert tasks.
Service shark Vark 🐕‍🦺
On the topic of electricity, I also headcanon him as having some aspects of an electric eel as well. A fantasy eel. He can take in some of Vox's excess energy, and isn't bothered by the sparks Vox throws off.
I'm chewing on the idea that Val bought Vark for Vox as an apology gift.
Now I'm just quoting myself directly from discord: I keep thinking of how I can include this (Vark being a gift from Val) in my one fanfic where it obviously does not fit bc Val hates Vark in it. Maybe he's jealous that Vox cares way more about Vark himself than the fact that Val gave him a gift. So unappreciative, didn't even have make-up sex over it bc Vox was too busy practically having a breakdown over how adorable Vark is. Val realizes that this was a mistake and he should have picked a very different gift instead
Vark is such a well behaved good boy when he's working, as a service shark. When Vox is in distress, Vark is so focused on trying to help with all the power of his tiny shark brain <3 Outside of that tho? He's a terror. He's so excitable. He canonically (in the old Voxtagram art) jumps on and knocks people over. This ties into him previously being a tiny adorable little thing. It was sooo cute when he jumped on your leg, back when he was the size of a large potato. It stayed cute up until they realized he was going to be so much bigger than they ever expected.
(It's like a bottle raised bull. The cute things they did when they were a little baby calf are no longer cute now that they're so large they are going to hurt you on accident just trying to be friendly and playful. RIP.)
Other service dog tasks for Vark: deep pressure therapy (of course. Interrupting behaviors such as when Vox is getting overwhelmed. Blocking to stop other people from getting too close to/touching Vox when he would shock them. I am forgetting so many things and will continue writing this list later
Vox doesn't do public access with Vark. This ties into my headcanons for Vox that he is deeply ashamed of himself and he cannot let anyone know he has problems ever.
Unfortunately, I am evil. So I also like the idea of Vark as an owner-trained service animal who is hmm not the perfect candidate for the job. In the same way shepherds aren't recommended for anxiety work, he can feed too much off of Vox's own emotions and has issues with guarding aggression that at times cause him to become reactive. (*points at my fanfic where he bites Val*)
I love bad representation.
Alsooo I don't like hammerhead sharks or animals that are too cartoon-y for me to understand as a real creature, so I'm making up a new design for Vark
Based on a Bonnethead Shark! Fun fact about Bonnethead Sharks: they are omnivorous! They eat seagrass :)
So Vark is omnivorous but unfortunately he's also like a tiger shark in that he'll eat anything even if it's not food. Tiger sharks have been found with license plates, tires, and other trash in their stomachs (sad)
Don't ask Vox how many times Vark has needed emergency exploratory surgery after eating something he shouldn't have. He doesn't want to talk about it.
Vark chews on wires like real sharks biting at undersea fiber optic cables. Chomp chomp
When Vark was a tiny baby, Velvette dressed him up in silly little outfits to post online. She doesn't do that anymore because he has mostly outgrown his cuteness stage for her: she only thought he was cute when he was little.
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pianocat939 · 11 months
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I have another one, let's say that the turtles S/O got kidnapped and held for ransom by some criminal. The criminal contacts the turtles to discuss price but when the turtles answer they hear s/o just causing havoc in their base and the criminal just begging them to come and pick up their gremlin, usually s/o is a well mannered and quiet individual who just likes to listen to them with a loving smile on their face, typically quiet unless provoked or asked to speak. They only flip the switch when scared or shook up like they were in this situation. Calm and collected to chaos incarnate.
They asker also said: Regarding my last ask I forgot to add once the turtle/s gets there and finds s/o they see that s/o is scared and they just cling to them apologising repeatedly.
Just saying, this is romantic since it's probably easier- not to be weird.
Tw: implied past kidnapping- kinda obv, some anxiety and guilt mentions
Well for one thing they're all going to freak out + be absolutely pissed when you're is kidnapped by a criminal of all people. And of course, they go rescue like you said-
So once they find you and you're clinging to them they're ecstatic. When you're all scared and attaching yourself to them while apologizing they're going to be shushing you and saying it's not your fault (Yes even Donnie bcs he's happy enough to be softie)
Quotes bcs quotes:
(He is crying bcs anxiety) "You're apologizing?! Excuse me but I'm the one here who didn't keep you with me! I-I...I'm sadddd! I was so scared for your life! Don't leave me ever again...please."
"Oh baby...You know I would never blame you for such a disgusting pig like him for kidnapping you! But don't worry, you're safe now, in my arms~" (Fun fact: he is extremely guilty for having you kidnapped)
"Hey. The only thing that matters most is that you're safe. With me protecting you, of course, that is a no-brainer. Now, let's go back to the lair. Clearly, I need to upgrade some security systems."
"MY DIVINITY! Oh I am so, so, so sorry! I'm such a failure of a devotee to you! letting yourself be hurt like that! Ugh...What can I ever do to make up for my unlawful deeds?"
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Lee HC’s! (In order of appearance bc the image-uploading is being weird- sorry for the shit formatting!)
Lee!Sun:
First of all, we shall list what kind of lee he is; Easily flustered.
Sunny obviously wheezes, but he wheezes the most if his rays are being targeted.
Sunny cannot say the t-word for the life of him when he’s in a lee!mood, but can easily say it when actual tkls aren’t involved. Worst spot is his wrists, lightly tracing his wrist will kill the poor guy- (but he will be very happy despite his whines of protest.)
Whenever Earth goes to play with his rays, the reason he always sounds so startled, is because he’s trying not to laugh.
Sun is less of a wriggler, and more of a bargainer, opting to try and talk his way out of being wrecked instead of actually trying to escape.
Lee!Moon:
Moon is the kind of lee who insists they’re not ticklish somewhere, only for it to be like- one of their worst spots.
Speaking of worst spots, His knees. His knees, are just death. He is rendered helpless the second you go for his knees.
Moon is more of a ler than a lee usually, but will very embarrassedly ask Sun, Earth, Or Solar for tkls when he’s in a lee!mood, he would go to Lunar only if he needs the kind of tkls that completely fry your brain, like if he’s overthinking about his past self or something similar.
Definitely more of a wriggler than Sun- he will fight for his LIFE (even if he’s the one who asked for tkls.)
Inspired by a certain fic, (You know who you are /pos) A good way to comfort or calm him is light tkls on the hand, typically Sun or Earth does this, but Solar has been allowed to do so a couple times.
Lee!Earth:
Probably the most open lee of the group- like, she can directly ask for tkls without using any code words or substitutes, even in a really bad Lee!mood- (the others envy her bravery)
Worst spot is her hips, but a close second is the back of her neck, under her mountain of hair.
Will go to anyone she trusts for tkls, but mainly opts to ask Monty, Sun, Moon, Lunar and Solar, as she’s closest with them.
Has thought about asking Moon or Solar to add a cropped turtleneck to her list of outfits, but is a little hesitant. (not too cropped, like- right where the ribs end.)
Very fond of tkls in general, as it’s a very good way to strengthen bonds with those you love. Lee!Lunar:
One of the worst wrigglers of the entire celestial family, no matter what-
Has difficulty saying the t-word when in a lee!mood, but it’s not impossible for him.
Has very likely been the Guinea pig for Gemini (Castor and Pollux) when they were curious about tkls, Pollux was probably the one to bring it up. (Before all uh. The recent happenings, of course.)
Worst spot is probably his tummy, (wow so creative/j) but a very close second is the joints of his arms.
Super feather-sensitive because I say so.
Cheer up tkls are his kryptonite, but they don’t Always work-
Has been tkld by Jack before, because he made the mistake of mentioning the word while Jack was nearby- (wasn’t as bad as he expected, kinda fun actually.) Lee!Blood-Twins:
More Ler’s than Lee’s, but The less crazy one, (I personally call this one HarvestMoon/Harvest) typically has more lee!moods than the more feral one (Normal ol BloodMoon)
Now these two, THEY are THE WORST wrigglers in the celestial family, with Lunar being a very, VERY close second.
They will bite and claw whoever is tklng them, no matter who it is- they will cause damage- it is inevitable- you’re signing your death certificate if you try to get them-
Like Sun, they CANNOT say the T-word, but like. Ever- it doesn’t matter what context the situation has, they’re going to substitute the word- the t-word hurts their pride and ego, and they refuse to let that happen. If they do actually say the t-word, it is very much an accident that they will recall whenever they try to sleep- and curl up into a flustered little ball of growls.
They pretend to hate tkls, but due to how rare it is that they get any kind of positive touch, they absolutely secretly adore it.
Obviously their worst spot is the left underarm, where that weak point is, (THAT CANONICALLY IS TKLISH‼️) but a close second is their tummy, because of how doglike they act sometimes.
Playing off the last one, yes. Yes they kick like a puppy when someone tkls their tummy. It is incredibly embarrassing for them, though, as they cannot control it, and will very likely growl the whole time-
They do indeed have a “sweet spot” like a dog, but I’m just gonna let y’all try and guess where it is <3 (I’m evil I know.). Lee!Eclipse:
OH MY FUCKING GOD. Literally the biggest goddamn lee of the celestial family it’s not even funny.
He is a walking death-spot, but his absolute worst spot is most definitely the middle of his back, he goes LIMP immediately.
Ridiculously touch-starved, so he’s very likely to just melt into any tkls he’s given. (Sometimes even if the intent is malicious-)
Like Sun, he wheezes, but (because I say so) he will occasionally let out a catlike giggle or squeak, which he’s very flustered by.
HE CANNOT EVEN USE SUBSTITUTES FOR THE T-WORD. He just has to hint around without mentioning anything even slightly similar to the dreaded t-word and pray that whoever he’s trying to get tkls from catches his drift.
He’s the most likely to get clingy if he’s been thoroughly wrecked, it doesn’t matter who did it, he’s gonna cling to them and refuse to let go- such a pathetic wet cat of a man. Lee!Solar:
Yeah, like Earth, he’s also a pretty calm lee (not open about it though-)
Solar can say the t-word, without substitutes, no matter what, and it’s VERY RARE for him to use a substitute.
Actually quite fond of “go the fuck to sleep/take a break” tkls. (Sometimes purposefully stays up too late working on something to provoke the others (Mainly Moon and Spaniard (the computer) into tklng him-)
Not much of a wriggler or a bargainer, but definitely a whiner- he will protest so damn much despite visibly enjoying the tkls.
Solar’s worst spot is like, right above his hips. He will definitely hiccup if you go for that.
Lee!KC:
Used to be more of a ler before he went all hippy mode (/pos) but now leans more towards being a lee.
Like Moon, his worst spot is his knees, but back when he had his mindscape form, it was definitely his paws- 100%. (Yes KC used to have paws, I’m still reeling myself in after nearly a year.)
more of a soft giggler, with very few loud noises like squeals or shrieks.
He can say the t-word sometimes, but usually has to use substitutes. Lee!ForkFace:
One of the more ler-learning members of the group, but definitely still has lee!moods.
whenever Forky decides to have their rays, that’s usually how you can tell they’re in a lee!mood, as their rays are quite tklish but not as much as Sun’s or any of the other ray-possessors.
Has the quietest giggles of the whole group, mainly because they rarely talk- but definitely has moments when they go from quiet, rapid breathing to simulate giggling, to a sudden screech-
Oddly enough, their worst spot is their lower-arm, a close second would be their neck.
a little more embarrassed about tkls than you’d think, especially because it’s more difficult to ask for them when they don’t feel like talking.
Earth and Foxy are the people they mainly go to for tkls, Earth is the one who taught them what it is, actually! Lee!JackOMoon:
Puppy brained little goober who barely understands the concept of tkls, had to research it one day because he mistook Solar wrecking Lunar (for calling him a twink) as violence, and tried to mutilate Solar-
Doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels an urge to be tkld, but usually goes to Solar, Lunar or surprisingly ForkFace to ask about it.
Can say the t-word in any context, as he doesn’t really understand anything that he feels when in a lee!mood.
Has tried to tkl himself, was very confused when it didn’t cause the same sensation as when someone else does.
Like BloodMoon (and Harvest,) Jack’s puppy brain causes him to kick when someone gets his tummy.
The second boldest lee of the group, right behind Earth, as he can’t feel embarrassment (not yet anyway- the day he gains embarrassment, he will be in the same boat as Eclipse in terms of asking for tkls-). Lee!Ruin:
3rd most open lee of the group, very capable of just asking for tkls without substitutes.
Despite being able to say the t-word, he will definitely Hesitate to ask for tkls- he’s very self conscious the poor lad.
Ruin is more of a “go limp and whine” kind of lee, but doesn’t deny that he likes tkls.
if he’s unable to bring himself to ask for tkls, he will pout and whine like a toddler until someone catches on.
Like Eclipse, he’s a walking deathspot- AND THIS IS BY CHOICE, HE BUILT HIS OWN BODY, HE WIRED HIS SENSORS THIS WAY. (The others love to tease him about that, and the friendly teasing always just makes him super happy and feel like he’s not a burden or out of place <3) (I’ll add ler HC’s later- rn I have writers block💀)
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yurigalactica · 6 months
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would you mayhaps infodump about LC! lyrics? 👀👀 /nf
(I saw you on the anon game and am incredibly interested)
OOOOOOOOOH YESYESYESYES I WOULD LOVE TO INFODUMP ABOUT LOS CAMP LYRICS
okay okay so first of all. this band is so good. they have so many banger ass songs and that cannot be denied. HOWEVER in my heart To Tundra will always reign supreme. like holy shit. it's got lyrics like "meet me at st. nicholas among the oaks, behind the church that sway like pig-tailed girls as summer wind whistles around your bare-skin knees and the forsythia leaves" and "we take on the burden of all these sad-eyed children with lilies bunched in our hands" like. those lyrics are so visceral and potent they literally leave me with my mouth hanging wide open after i hear them. oh my GOD that song is magical
some of my other favorite songs lyrically is OBVIOUSLY tiptoe through the true bits. that's the song that whenever i hear it i have to stop literally everything i'm doing, turn up the volume as loud as it will go, close my eyes and just absorb the Vibes. it's so gorgeous AHHHHHH. the bit that makes my heart go !!!!!! is the part where it goes "the bed-spread decked in suns and moons and symbols of the star-signs, how you read how mine applied to how I would be sex-wise." like that paired with the little guitar picking up in the back and the drums kicking in are SO GOOD AHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AND. IN MEDIA RES. that song changed my life genuinely. like WOW. the whole vibe of it, especially the end when the trumpets (i think they're trumpets at least) kick in and gareth goes "if you were given the option of dying painlessly in peace at 45 with a lover at your side, after a full and happy life, is this something that would interest you? would this interest you at all?" like WOW what an existential crisis moment while you feel like you're running through a rainy field. man that hits yknow
ALSO i am emotionally attached to Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #4. i dont know why but the first time i ever heard it my brain latched its claws onto it and now it wont fucking let go. so whenever i hear the guitar at the beginning i am Legally Obligated to belt out at the top of my lungs "I RESTORED YOUR MOTHER'S FAITH IN MEN WHILST BORING YOU TO DEATH LEFT NOTHING MORE THAN A CIRCLE OF STUBBLE RASH AROUND YOUR CHEST--"
AND!!!!!!!!! for flotsam also has a very special place in my heart. i love the lyrics in that one, particularly "summer of odd-numbered year" like. MY GUYS YOU ARE SO CREATIVE???? all of your football metaphors to describe your boredom and emotions. like i don't watch football but you go guys i think its so kickass. i love you los campesinos. also the bit where they go "flotsam, jetsam, and spindrift, all the girls i have loved, dumped to earth by a spendthrift, gilt angels from above" with the "aaaahhh" in the back and the very faint piano in the background that i can only hear when i'm listening to it with my gaming headphones on bc my gaming headphones have really good mid range. just AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
AND WHAT DEATH LEAVES BEHIND TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 fun little fact this was the first song that i listened to when i first decided to listen to their discography all the way through. and let's just say that was a VERY good start because i was very impressed right off the bat. like "i was the first match struck at the first cremation, you are my shallow grave, I'll tend you as a sexton, if you're the casket door that's being slammed upon me, i'll be a plague cross painted on your naked body" LIKE HOLY SHIT. THATS SO EVOCATIVE. HOW DO YOU USE SO MANY METAPHORS AND BIG WORDS. THEYRE SO GOOD AT WORDS. i love listening to this one because it is so lyrically complex and yet it all goes together so well auuugghhhhhhhh
also since i started university recently, hung empty rings very near and dear to my heart. like the bit in the bridge that goes "my vision is fading, it's blurry, there are fingerprints all over the sun, we're glad to be loved but we're lonely and we feel like we're the only ones." like. that's the experience of moving out right there!!! i don't know where the fuck i am and i'm so lonely but it feels so bright and new and cinematic. this song Gets me on the most fundemental level it feels so very College-Esque
ALSOOOOOOO she crows!!!!!!!!!!!11 i LOVE she crows. someone inject this song into my veins Right This Fucking Instant. i need to live and breathe this song right now. just the instrumentals combined with the anthemic feel of the song really seals the feeling of looking back on your life and all of your mistakes and acknowledging that all of them brought you to where you are now. especially the end bit, i don't know why, but when it goes "big tip for the pretty girl waiting the IHOP, these blank napkins/unwritten suicide notes, it's dark inside these eyelids, blacker than the ink (squid)" it really feels like the end of the day. these are the lyrics that buzz like caffiene in your veins as you sit outside a dutchbros at eleven pm surrounded by the only people you feel like you can be yourself around. it's the feeling of cold biting at your skin while your heart feels warm and full. it feels like an open finale, the first time you smile in a long time, an acceptance of the complex beauty of life, that unforgettable moment when you realize that you wouldn't trade who you've become for the world
and CODA A BURN SCAR IN THE SHAPE OF THE SOONER STATE. I LOVE CODA SO MUCH AGH. PERFECT CRYING IN THE SHOWER SONG. like the lyric "an artist's impression of the manhattan skyline" will get me fucking SOBBING immediately. it feels like watching the world move on without you, the world a blur as you crumple inward under the weight of your emotions, a collapsing star in an endless void. and then obviously "i can't believe i chose the mountains every time you chose the sea" WOAH the SYMBOLISM i will just pass away right here in my dormitory with my headphones on. no sorry professor i can't write my essay i am unwell about the romance is boring album again. sorry yeah i'll be unavailable for 3-5 buisness weeks
but uh. yeah. los campesinos amirite???????????
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shadowofmoths · 8 months
Note
Who would you cast to play mcr out of the Muppets.
oh man. fantastic question thank you So Much. ok so first of all this post does a great job of it and i rly cannot do better HOWEVER i am going to try and do my own take on it. here goes.
gerard: i mean. listen. miss piggy, obviously. i rly tried to have another option but i don’t. and it’s not just for appearance reasons, like it’s not just so we can put piggy in the cute dresses , it’s also bc piggy has this fancy diva aspect to her of course but also has the capability to go apeshit when necessary.
ray: i am going to say something controversial. i think ray could be kermit. “kermit is the frontperson of the muppets!” yes ok sure you could make that case HOWEVER if you watch the muppet show he’s actually responsible for a lot more of the behind the scenes coordination and keeping shit together. whicu makes me think of ray recording in the back of their bus on warped tour, among other things. there’s also a point where someone says smth to kermit along the lines of like. “thank god YOURE normal” and kermit is like. are you kidding me? i hired the rest of [the muppets]! and i think you could argue ray could fit that in the sort of. doesn’t outwardly seem as intense as maybe gerard or frank but very much still is in my chemical romance ykwim. alternative option would be sweetums ONLY because sweetums’ whole bit is being left behind and having to run after everyone else and ray got left at the truck stop, but i think that bit only works once or twice.
frank: i think there’s a lot of options for frank, particularly if you’re going for the “chaotic guitarist who throws himself around stage” route ? like if you RLY wanted to go for that you could do animal which i think could be funny bc i’m imagining animal with the like emo eyeliner etc. but i rly do think the right choice for him is gonzo. gonzo’s got the ability to be chaotic. but crucially, he is also a wife guy.
mikey: i would make a case for mikey as scooter, maybe? both younger than the people they’re working with, can have a nervous energy, and lowkey there because of nepotism (scooter has a job w the muppets bc his rich uncle owns the muppet theatre. lol.) alternatively i guess you could say beaker based on being. tall and uhh not always talking clearly/being quiet? maybe? but i think scooter is your best bet here. or i guess you could do zoot bc he’s just a silent cool-looking sax player. if gerard is gonna be piggy i guess you could pull another pig muppet for mikey so they’re siblings but idk.
ANYWAYS now i’m having fun imagining each of these muppets in like revenge era outfits . also i can’t believe i managed to say This Much on this topic my god
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bnb-atnite · 11 months
Note
the fans want more chubby, switch Aegon… and my fans I mean (me)
you know who 🤫🤫🤫🤫
Hello light of my life the blood in my veins I’m about to get disgusting rn for you pic nsfw pic under the cut of my Eemagination run wild
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Modern!au, college!au, SORRY FOR THE ASS ENDING I WAS SO BUSY TODAY, pnv!sex, fat appreciation, bickering bc he’s a little shit, chubby!aegon, creamPIE, top Aegon, belly kink
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Pig.
You could walk into the frat house at all times by now. They knew your idiot boyfriend, resident pledge master and keg destroyer. Aegon’s ass would likely be in bed per usual. It was post-maybe going to class time. It was definitely post-gorge yourself at the dining hall hour. Slinging your bag over your shoulder you passed the stuffy Criston Cole, the president of the fraternity and waved.
Going up a flight of stairs you pushed the scrawled-on door open. The room looked like shit. Granted it was a frat house but it looked horrid. Tossed cans and ripped plastic that once contained junk food were scattered about. Aegon laid asleep in the middle of the big bed, naked per usual. You eyed his softened frame and hummed.
You’d known the blonde since freshman year and he’d solidly put on the freshman fifteen, more like twenty. Cut to junior year and shacked up with your now-boyfriend he had, well, really fucking put it on. Not everyone could contain their hummingbird metabolism of the teens and it showed. Not to mention he was lazy as shit. So lazy. Unless it was a party.
Stifling the inevitable dirty thoughts you started picking up the trash, scoffing in annoyance. Man-child. He made a soft noise and shifted on his side, exposing a heavy gut and his soft hips. You jerked your eyes away again, grabbing the trash-bags from the closet. Once the trash was picked up you grabbed the rest of your cleaning supplies from a drawer.
Aeg paid you back with eating you out til’ you cried or bought you expensive shit, because his family was rich like that. Going to the desktop and his ‘gaming table’ elicited a grimace. You hissed lowly, “Grimy little fuck.” You sprayed everything liberally down and scrubbed away any dirt or crumbs. Bumping your elbow on accident with the mouse lit up the screen.
“OH FUCK ME YES,” exploded from the speakers.
Yelping and rabbit clicking on the X was not deleting the porn. You yelled, “Aegon! The fuck is wrong with you!” He snuffled and shifted around, hazy violet eyes blinking open. Aegon yawned, “Can’t watch a little porn babe?” Then pillowed his face on a fluffy arm.
Finally clicking out of the browser you fought from jumping your boyfriend and ripping his hair out. Continuing your angry cleaning tirade you moved to dusting. “I mean really? It’s not like I’m not fucking your big ass!” Aegon grumbled and rolled onto his back, belly still swollen from breakfast. He sleepily replied, “If you looked, I always pick girls that look like you.”
You turned to face him, raising both of your brows and falsely expressing excitement, “Wow baby, thank you, how considerate. Dickhead!” Aegon rolled his eyes and threw a thick arm over pale orbs. You ranted on while folding laundry, turned away from the nuisance you loved very much. Sometimes it was just fun to nag at him— not like he cared.
Aegon interrupted your rambling. With slick noises. He breathed, “Y’know it’s kinda hot when you’re mad.” You inhaled sharply and turned around like a madwoman.
The blonde grinned lazily, thick fist wrapped around his cock. One of his meaty thighs was propped up, the other laying out. You fought back a whimper staring at his slightly jostling belly and wide frame. His pretty face was pleasantly flushed, chin dipped into a pocket of softness. You warbled, “Y-you’re fucking disgusting.”
He gasped a little, belly jumping with the movement. Aegon groaned, “Hmm- tell me about it, c’mon baby.” You got up and clambered onto the end of the bed, hand laying on his thick thigh. In a trembling voice you continued, “Don’t you already know Aeg? Just content to be a hog wallowing in his filth.” His arm slipped behind to reveal a peak of purple eyes rolling backwards.
You grew more bold watching him lose it.
“The fact you’re getting off to this proves it,” you moved forward to grab a thick love handle, “Fat and goddamn lazy. Clothes don’t fit but you’re content to empty the dining hall and lay about your room all day.” Aegon groaned again, fucking his fist harder, jostling his striped stomach some more. You traced one of those angry lines on his butter-soft inner thigh and half-whined, “Skin can’t, can’t fucking keep up.”
You were rewarded with Aegon panting, “Fuck- fuck- lemme fuck you. I know, gods, I’m fat you beast.”
“Can you even get off your back to do that?”
Apparently he could, rolling you under his heavy frame, belly flattened against your smaller form. Aegon’s pupils were shot as he stared down at you with unrestrained heat. You needily whimpered, eyes wide in shock. He murmured, “I know my girl likes it anyways, don’t you? You’re just as content, cleaning my room, asking why I don’t eat the rest of your food.”
Oh hell. You weren’t very secretive were you?
He lowered plush lips to your ear, grinning while pudgy, greedy hands yanked down your leggings and panties. “Mhmm, thought you were so sneaky huh? You look like you’re going to jump my bones after a keg pull.” With a desperate noise you clawed at your top and bra, yanking them off so you could be skin to skin. Aegon sucked at your neck and collarbones, hands groping your ass roughly.
He murmured between stinging nips, “Uh huh, you’re gagging over all of this, you like my belly or something?” Your lips trembled, humiliation crawling up your spine, shaking your head vehemently. He moaned and lapped at a nipple when your hand wound up into silver locks, yanking feebly. Your legs tightened around his soft waist, uttering madly, “Yes I- I love it, don’t be mean!”
He popped off your tit, quickly replacing it with a palm and squeezing. The bastard cocked his head and surveyed your wrecked face. Aegon leaned closer and hummed, “Me? Being mean? You just came in here to bitch me out. I’d say you’re getting what was coming to you.” You whined through your nose in annoyance, Aegon chuckled darkly and sealed his soft lips over yours.
You kissed him back, your other hand winding to dig into his fluffy side. Aegon pressed himself into you, cock dragging against your slickened folds. He snickered again when you gasped wetly, trying to thrust back but utterly pinned. The blonde licked across your tongue, moaning and rutting roughly. You whined and let him take over, already strung out.
Aegon rested his forehead against yours, murmuring, “Y’want my fat ass to fuck you then? Sounds like it sweetheart, you’re all wet for me.” You blinked away tears and nodded, pleading, “Please, please, fucking hell Aegon!” He grinned sharply and reached between your stuck bodies, grunting with the effort of moving.
You cried out when the blunt tip of his cock breached your cunt, stretching you deliciously. Aegon hissed your name out, dipping his mouth to your neck again. The blonde fucked you roughly, thick fingers digging into your waist, belly almost smothering you. You babbled out, “Oh my god- Aeg- oh you feel so good s’soft!”
The sounds of skin hitting skin picked up in the room, Aegon’s huge thighs and balls slapping against you. He was groaning and biting you up some more, brokenly cursing, “I fucking know baby, just needed my cock to settle you down, I know.” Your legs were twitching and clinging around him for dear life, Aegon’s cock rubbing and nudging all the right spots in your pussy. His chest was rubbing against your nipples too, making you see stars.
He took your mouth again, hand curling around your neck and fucking into you harder. You wailed into his mouth, trembling and shaking all over. Aegon desperately groaned, “C’mon baby, cum on me, lemme fill up that tight cunt.” You nodded and cried his name, belly awash with heat, tightening up around every jerk of his hips. Your boyfriend was roughly panting, too out of shape to keep up the pace.
You squirmed and shuddered, eyes flickering shut. Aegon gasped out when your pussy clenched and convulsed around him. He cursed and squeezed your waist until it could bruise, sucking in breath. Your boyfriend’s thrusting became sloppy and were more of him digging in further. It was driving you crazy, overstimulating your frayed nerves. He came with a soft cry against your drooling mouth, white hot spend hitting your insides.
Your back arched into his bulk at the feeling, another orgasm tearing a sob from your throat. Aegon’s breath hitched again, him stuttering out, “G-god fucking damn, sweet girl.” His full weight bared down on you, Aegon collapsing with an ‘oof’. Too fucked out to complain of being squished you smacked his shoulder until the man laughed and freed you.
He was more gentle now, now dragging your ragdoll frame into his side, slinging your leg over his bigger ones. Pillowed on his softened chest you managed to croak, “Fine. I like the gut.”
“Obviously.”
You pinched said gut. He yelped and shied away with a giggle. Aegon rolled his eyes and asked, “When you feel your legs again, I’m kinda hungry.” Aegon’s stomach growled in agreement, setting your cheeks aflame once again. You hummed, kissing a plump cheek, “Sure- asswipe.”
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cheolsfae · 4 months
Note
can we get a reading on yunho’s future spouse and/or his soulmate? whichever you prefer! ty!
I'll do both! I'll link his future spouse here when it's done! It'll probably get done Thursday/Friday (Nov 23 or Nov 24).
*Disclaimer: solely for fun! Please do not take this seriously. For entertainment purposes only!*
Past: king of pentacles (reversed), the hanged man (reversed)
I'm getting two very different messages here. Which is weird because this is supposed to be one person, his soulmate. So, situation one, this person was very insecure and unstable financially. This person never took the time to look at their situation differently. They may have been very selfish previously. Maybe they were not looking out for the other person's best interest. They may have just been greedy and wanted to keep money to themselves. I mean, I understand wanting to keep what little money you have, but what I don't get is why you wouldn't share with someone else who may need it? I think a friend tried to borrow money from this person, and they were kind of selfish with it. Anyway, this person was being pig headed with it.
Situation two, they were dealing with a very insecure partner in the past. His soulmate may have been the insecure one as well. But I think the person they were with was mainly the culprit. They refused to get past any argument that came up. They would get like tunnel vision, and every time his soulmate screwed up, they would throw past issues in their face. They have since left this terrible person, but I think they still carry the scars with them from this situation.
Present: 3 of swords (reversed), 6 of cups
Right now, I think they are trying to heal themselves. They may be trying to be kinder to themselves and reparent themselves. They are releasing whatever happened in the past. They do look back at all of the positives that happened in that past partnership but they know that it wasn't good for them to keep thinking that way or keep being with that person (again bc 2 situations for some reason 😭). But right now, they are focused on themselves and heal what has happened and move on from it! 💕
Future: 8 of wands, the fool
When they and Yunho meet, this communication is going to be quick. They are going to be pulled to take a leap of faith. They are going to want to just jump right in! I think Yunho will be the one to make the first move. It feels like it. But this whole thing is going to move very quickly! They both have such fast paced energy here. I think they are going to go from 1 to 100 really quickly. Makes perfect sense considering it's Yunho lmaoo 💕
Bottom of the deck: 9 of swords
Overall, this person feels a little overwhelmed with everything right now. They feel like they are stuck in a situation they are most definitely not stuck it. It's all in their head. They know they did the right thing by leaving the past situation behind it, which was for the better good. But it still feels like it was the wrong move for them but! I swear whoever you are! It's good you left! It's leading you to Yunho better things!
*Oracle deck was also used!
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fluffypotatey · 7 months
Note
Hi! Me again. Do you have any headcanons about the JTTW gang? I'd LOVE to hear all of them: the fluff, the funny, and the angsty. How did you think Tripitaka found SWK when he's inside the mountain itself instead of under it, and why? Why did Ao Lie reveal himself in his human for to the two at the bridge? In the book the trio met Zhu Bajie when the father of the the pig's wife requested their help to bring his daughter back, it even referenced this in the game, but in the flashback they met at Zhu Bajie's food stall where it seems like Trip was complaining about the food to the chef. How do you think the showdown between Sha Wujing and the quartet went down in this verse? Who do you think Wujing challenged first?
hey! sorry i'm replying to these a day late T^T
so imma assume you meant the jttw gang in the context of lmk bc any headcanons of them within the book is a tough one for me bc i'm still reading through it and trying to differentiate between what's a translation issue and what's "canon" is a time :)
anyway,
i think i mentioned this before, but i love the idea of Sun Wukong finding comfort in Tripitaka and Ao Lie out of the rest of the companions post-journey. like if he were ever in a slump or feeling overwhelmed he would go to them (or they would reach out to him if they notice swk being less chipper and talkative). i think even before Wukong's isolation, he would not go out and visit people as often, mostly keep to his friends and allies (how many few they were now).
also, Ao Lie would take Wukong on so many trips into the city just as an excuse to hang out and give swk a chance to be outside. i have an inkling that Ao Lie is the type to get lost or accidentally find himself in a precarious situation that swk would have to help him from (taking a wrong turn and finding himself face-to-face with a gang or something for example, and, being the conservative warrior he is, Ao Lie would not fight them or anything). one of Ao Lie's favorite places would be the city's theater districts because it was the most colorful, and Wukong would allow the dragon to drag him along anyway, past memories be damned.
with Tripitaka, i think Wukong enjoys making playful jabs at the monk for funsies. when they were originally acquainted, these jabs were more hurtful and condescending and aggravated the monk to no end. now tho, the jabs are in good fun, and Tripitaka's sighs are more jovial than exasperated. (though he does have times when the exasperation does come bc Wukong is nothing if not a monkey hell-bent on mischief, and Tripitaka always seems to be the guy he calls to help bail him out. out of love of course.) and given that i am a "Tripitaka and Sun Wukong's relationship wasn't abusive" truther, i like to believe that both monkey and monk view their relationship as something that resembles familial and brotherly.
Wukong and Zhu Baije i headcanon as rivals to friends who are still rivals but now care for each other deeply. they will shit-talk each other, they will get into spats, they will threaten to murder the other ("roast pork-let on a stick" and "make their own monkey pelt skirt"), they will give Tripitaka and Sandy/Sha Wujing the worst of headaches but it's with love <3
Wukong and Sha Wujing are comedian buddies. i am so sure about this, the pregnancy chapter confirmed it to me. Wukong told me himsel-
but enough about my opinions about their alleged relationships in th lmk context....for le questions!!!
well, from what i remember, Ao Lie first introduced himself as, and to quote Red from OSP, "an enormous fuck-you dragon" before changing shape into his human form. so, probably during his little skirmish with Wukong (+ Tripitaka hiding behind a rock), he realized that the two were supposed to be his companions on the journey, and switched up real fast to show them that he's actually friendly!
i do think it's interesting how Zhu Baije's story is different 👀 i'm guessing they changed it to show some similarity to Pigsy and his ancestor? so the reference we saw in the game could have just been an in-book easter egg??? i honestly don't know why they changed that, but it is funny to think that Zhu Baije was a cook who met the gang when he captured Tripitaka so that his business could boom with serving specialized, holy monk meat 😂 i can, like, imagine Wukong busting down the doors of Zhu baije's "restaurant" demanding that he give the demon his monk back lmao (but that also adds another bit of confusion bc Zhu Baije was chosen by Guanyin, Goddess of Mercy, to be one of the pilgrims for the journey, so he should have recognized that the monk he wanted to eat was the monk he was supposed to protect? unless in lmk, Guanyin didn't go out and choose companions for tripitaka?????)
now for the showdown with Sha Wujing, i bet 100 bucks that the order of fights went like this:
Sha Wujing asks/demands which if the four would fight him to be called the "strongest demon of all,"
Wukong opts for going bc he's the fucking Monkey King™️,
Zhu Baije says fuck that bc he is NOT gonna let the monkey show off again,
Zhu Baije loses, Wukong offers to help (not really, he did that to piss the pig off) & Baije tells him to fuck off,
Baije loses 3-5 times later, tripitaka pleads for the pig demon to stop and just "let the monkey do it, dear Buddha,"
Wukong rolls up his sleeves,
Sha Wujing laughs and calls Wukong puny,
Sha Wujing is pomelled to the grown without breaking a sweat,
Baije complains that he helped weaken the river demon for Wukong
exactly like that, yeah
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saintemiliosandoz · 10 months
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cristina’s big giant studio ghibli watch
i watched almost all 22 studio ghibli movies because i’m unemployed and depressed and making it all your problem anyway here are my ratings. also, i watched the dubbed versions for all of them except one, which didn't have a dub. maybe one day ill go back and watch in the original japanese but ya girl was not up to reading subtitles like that
kiki’s delivery service: a rewatch and it still makes a bitch cry. don’t recommend it if you are having work burnout bc whew boy
spirited away: my mom told me i was so obsessed with this movie growing up to the point where she banned me from renting it from blockbuster. i have no memory of this, my only memory is of the first time i watched it and i swear i thought it was creepy: ANYWAY. this rewatch made me crazy. chihiro and haku are IN LOVE??!! oh my god
howl’s moving castle: this is not a movie i grew up obsessed with like many other people did. it’s fun though! i will be ordering howl’s earrings even though i think he’s overrepresented in studio ghibli’s male protag hot twink ratings. also: baby josh hutcherson.
princess mononoke: a real win for wolf girls everywhere
my neighbor totoro: i really loved this one. it made me want to call my sister. also, the cat bus!!
castle in the sky: also a new one for me. the island in the sky is so beautifully designed…loved it a lot. but it was hard to take it seriously when a deep, grown man’s voice came out of our resident little boy mc
ponyo: noah cyrus and the bonus jonas make a cute little movie! shoutout to liam neeson’s weird little ocean sorcerer.
the cat returns: ANNE HATHAWAY?? was my first thought. what a weird movie! it was fun?? i was definitely swept up in it i'll give it that, also so crazy that this is the movie for catgirls
nausicaa of the valley of the wind: i was sooo into the post apocalyptic environmental wasteland aesthetic of it all. somehow made me care about baby beetles also
porco rosso: genuinely every time i watch anything noir i'm like. i hate this genre. i just hate it! so. i didn't like this movie, i didn't like the italian guy who was inexplicably a pig and i didn't love the old-fashioned sexism and i just. didn't like it!
the secret world of arrietty: i thought this one was so sweet. like thumbelina if thumbelina had the cutest aesthetic ever and also a personality
from up on poppy hill: pseudo incest in studio ghibli?? more likely than you'd think!
whisper of the heart: i'm so sorry i could not take this movie seriously when i realized john denver's "take me home, country roads" was a legit major plot point in this film. i just. WHAT.
the wind rises: i saw this one in theaters when it came out and well. it sure is pretty i guess i'll give it that
tales of earthsea: now i havent read miss ursula leguin before but even i can tell this was a terrible adaptation. another crime from goro miyazaki, who is absolutely the weakest link of ghibli directors
when marnie was there: this movie made me cry so much oh my god....it's about chosen family...it's about being loved even at your worst. wah
pom poko: could've lived my entire life without seeing a movie about raccoon dogs who have shapeshifting magic in their balls.
the tale of princess kaguya: this movie was SOOO PRETTY. the animation was so gorgeous it almost made me forget how deeply sad this movie was. also, hi darren criss?!
my neighbors the yamadas: this was so interesting bc it felt like short stories come to life. very slice of life. i don't know if i loved it but i liked the animation style
ocean waves: this one doesnt have a dub! fun little high school romance but also i can't forgive ghibli for doing anime boob physics
grave of the fireflies: really excellent movie that i never ever want to watch again. jesus christ.
i did not watch earwig and the witch because it looks like this and i found it so deeply unsettling to see the ghibli style in 3D i simply could not do it. but it got terrible reviews and was, you guessed it, a goro miyazaki joint.
on the whole i found this watch really fun! it was exciting for me to get to know the other ghibli directors enough that now i have opinions on them (miyazaki, why didnt your son get your talent!) and just to see the variety of stories ghibli likes to tell. my two faves are def still spirited away and kiki's delivery service but my biggest surprise was when marnie was there, because i'd honestly never heard of that one and it gave me such a good little cry. anyway. i don't know how to end this except i guess to say you should watch the non miyazaki-directed ghibli stuff bc it's mostly all quite good! ok bye!
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whumpcloud · 1 year
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Hi im like about to fall asleep but i had an idea that i had to do to one of the numerous suffering pathetic vampire men on my dash so slight emeto tw incoming bc i keep seeing kind and loving anons feeding the moist paper towel when he should not experience kindness ever its against the law
I give him blood. I give him blood. I give him blood. I give him blood.
He's full? Can't drink anymore? He kindly begs me to stop making him feed and is very uncertain about asking for less food after all the starvation?
I give him blood. I give him blood. He will drink it all. I force him to consume more.
He feels ill? He is suffering the consequences of my actions? He is gonna throw up? He is terrified of that happening? It happens anyway? Now that's just terribly rude. Imagine thinking you can say no to food after begging for it for so long, going as far to spit out the gift you just received.
Punishment time. Probably very harsh as he definitely has energy to keep healing and enduring now, what with all that blood he just got. Never another drop of blood after this either. Shouldn't have been so disrespectful and stupid, now he's going back to starving forever.
(i am willfully ignoring the fact that that much blood would probably give him enough strength to escape or something bc thats just spoiling the fun now isn't it, make it like pig's blood or something so he still feels blessed but doesn't actually gain anything from it besides sadness. as he should)
Vincent is desperately grateful at first. Of course he is. You just keep feeding him, he shouldn't turn that down, he doesn't know when he'll be fed again.
"I..." Vincent shakes a little. He can already tell it's some sort of trick by the fifth bag. "I- I don't... thank you for your kindness, but I don't think I can drink anymore."
You insist. Vincent's eyes flicker up to you. What's the game?
"I really can't," he whispers. "Please, I'm so grateful to be fed, but-"
No buts. You dangle it in front of his face and tell him to drink.
The tone of warning is enough to make him take it with trembling hands. A little of his strength has returned, but he isn't completely stupid. This is not human blood. Even if it was... why should he try to escape this? Whatever is going to happen cannot be worse than the punishment for escaping.
Vincent's vision swims. He swallows down another mouthful. He stopped begging a few minutes ago. This isn't going to stop.
His chest lurches a little. No, no, he can't throw it up! His eyes widen. Was this it? You just want to create a situation to hurt him, is that it?
He shakes his head to himself. No, of course not. How could he think that? You're being so kind just to feed him. He's just being ungrateful. If you hurt him even without the kindness, it would be no less than he deserves.
He physically can't swallow anymore - there's no place for it to go, no vein that needs filled - and chokes, gagging it back up onto the floor. Blood drips down his chin. Your tongue clicks in disappointment.
Whatever you wanted out of him, you get it. He screams, cries, begs, feels the blood he was only just given let loose from his body as you slice it open and mangle his skin into nothing but a vessel for cuts and bruises.
"N-No, stop, please, I didn't--!" Vincent curls up and shields his face. "I didn't mean to, please, you gave me t-too much, a-and I couldn't--!"
You sigh, and remind him that he was the one who threw up. You didn't make that happen.
"I..." Vincent can't fault the logic, even though he really should be able to. "I'm sorry. I sh-shouldn't... you're right. I'm sorry, this w-was my fault. I know that."
You smile, and tell him that if he's going to be so disgustingly disrespectful, there's no reason he should ever be fed again.
"N-NO!" Vincent, despite the pain, scrambles to his knees, presses his forehead against the floor, desperate to beg however you'd like him to. "Please, please, I'll d-do whatever else you want, please don't starve me again! A-Anything else, please!"
You tell him he should've thought of that before he spat out his gift.
Vincent lets out a harsh whimper. "I'm s-sorry. I know. I was d-disrespectful. I u-understand. Thank you for t-teaching me a lesson..."
You tell him to stay exactly how he is. You can add more creativity to this punishment.
Vincent understands now. He'll never be fed again, but he'll never, ever refuse a gift like that again.
It doesn't matter if it wasn't his choice. That idea doesn't even come to his mind anymore. There's always a choice, and he always makes the wrong one.
He keeps begging - you seem to like it - but he doesn't beg for it to stop. He knows it shouldn't.
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