#gutter ass app

[stormmaya]

i hate twitter

#gutter ass app #taking a month break let’s see if i can actually commit to this

[ggidolsmuts]

Fromis App Part 14: Snug and Secure - Fromis_9 Hayoung

You yawn and stretch as you walk to the front of the Fromis building. How did you get here? Now you're just another employee of Fromis App.

For the day. Hayoung ended up not returning with you that night, instead bilking you of a free meal and then using her leverage to have you be her lackey today. You pull out the nondescript access card that Hayoung gave you—maybe (Hopefully!) it wouldn't work, you'd just tell Hayoung you couldn't get in and leave.

*Beep*

Damn it. You sigh and make your way to the security room again.

"I'm here Hayoung."

"Good, on time, I like that. Come over, I need to sit on you."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." You look around, but nothing has changed from the last time you were in Hayoung's security room.

"There's nowhere to lie down!"

"Who said anything about lying down?"

"You said you wanted to sit on me."

"Ugh Saerom and Nagyung are really holding your head to the gutter aren't they? Get in the chair!" Hayoung points to her usual chair, and obediently you do as she says. She then bounces up and plops herself on top of you—you're too confused to be aroused as she squirms and pushes herself in your lap, trying to get a more comfortable position. She grabs your arms and wrap them around her waist, as if putting on a seatbelt.

"Hehehe, my own massage chair." It's almost adorable the way Hayoung nestles into you, if you weren't gripping onto her tight abs—she kept herself in great shape for someone in security sitting all day.

"Y-You want me to massage you?"

"Later, just hold on to me for now."

Your back is ramrod straight, tense as Hayoung settles into you. Over time you begin to slouch, unable to keep your posture straight for that long. You're not sure what Hayoung's working on, but it looks boring, and there's nothing going on in the screens as well. You start drifting off, your head resting comfortably on Hayoung's shoulder—she has managed to keep herself upright the whole time.

He's kinda cute, she smiles and thinks to herself. Can't imagine him railing Jiwon and Nagyung right in the office, he doesn't seem like the type! Yet she doesn't have to imagine, and she hovers over the video files she has saved for "easy access". Your arms are still around her, hugging her like a pillow, and a warm need flows through her—but not yet, she still had to focus for now.

"Hey, I have to take a call." Hayoung nudges your arm around her.

"Hmm? Oh sorry, do you need me to get up?"

"No, there's no video. I just wanted to tell you since you were napping."

"Oh right, sorry about that."

"Sure, anyways, starting the call now." She clicks into the call.

"Hello Saerom, how are you?"

"Oh hey Hayoung, how are things?"

"Good. I prepared the security report you wanted."

"Great, let's go over it." Hayoung nods and dives into it, screensharing and going page by page with Saerom. She's fully focused—Hayoung doesn't half-ass things, something Saerom appreciates. However, it also means that she doesn't notice your hands not staying idle. You do your best as a massage chair, kneading her midriff with light squeezes before moving down to her hips and doing the same on her thighs. Like all massages it helps with blood flow, and unnoticed by Hayoung (for now), blood begins flowing down her body.

"That was what we had for the quarter." Hayoung concludes.

"Thanks. Any security incidents, did oppa fuck around in my office again?" Saerom asks offhandedly. Hayoung planned to lie, but her mind still races, blinking rapidly.

"No, I haven't seen him."

"Really?"

"Yes." Hayoung prays that Saerom doesn't somehow hear her breath hastening.

"Good. Okay thanks Hayoung, I'll see you Monday."

"Yes Saerom, see you then." Hayoung exits the call and sighs in relief, leaning back before almost jumping off your lap. "Ahh!" She had forgotten you were there!

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah yeah, just forgot you were here." As her heartbeat slows back down from the surprise, Hayoung bites her lower lip—why does she feel so warm? A small tingle of pleasure flows through her, and she realizes your hands on her thighs. "What are you doing?"

"Being a massage chair, you seemed tense on the call."

"Oh... Oh okay, thanks." Hayoung squirms in your lap, and you're suddenly very aware of her warmth on your crotch. She is equally aware of your "presence" against her, and she grabs your hands, bringing them around her waist once more. "I need to focus."

"Of course, pretend I'm not here." Yet how could she? Hayoung scoots forward to avoid your growing stiffness, but it allows you to massage her lower back instead. Your hands continue their work, and try as she might, Hayoung can't concentrate, blinking rapidly and biting her lower lip.

I could use a break, Hayoung convinces herself. Wordlessly she opens a file—the one she's using to bargain with you, the one where you're fucking Nagyung over the desk. You don't notice Hayoung playing the video, your view of the screen blocked by the back of her head. You continue your diligent work, massaging up and down her back like it was your actual job. The blood continues to run through Hayoung's body, pooling at her core as she watches the lewd recording, imagining your hands on her back pressing her against the desk instead. It is only when you see Hayoung's hands drop off the desk do you realize what's going on—they've moved between her legs, resting there, her fingers probably teasing herself.

"Need some help with that Hayoung?" you whisper in her ear, finally noticing her watching the video.

"N-No, but I could use a pussy warmer," she fires back, trying to maintain control of the situation.

"Of course, I'm all yours." Hayoung gets off you, allowing you to remove your pants and boxers. She sits on you once more, sliding her own pants and underwear down just enough for access. A small gasp is heard your tip touches her entrance, and a held back whimper signifies her sitting on your cock, sheathing you fully inside her.

"G-Good, good, now just stay still and don't move, I need to work." The pretense is ridiculous, but you listen to Hayoung, doing your best to not squirm, to not buck into her as she adjusts her position, sending jolts of pleasure through the two of you.

Fuck, I forgot how big he is! Focus Hayoung! She edges herself and forces her finger to click off the video and back to her work. Your hands, previously resting on her hips, quietly move to the front, below her bellybutton.

You gently press in.

"Guh... mmm!" Hayoung bites back a moan as you press in a small circle over her womb. The "massage" causes her front wall to rub against your cock, and when you let go the friction is reduced. It comes back strongly as you press down again, but Hayoung manages to keep herself quiet. It still sends her into a tizzy though as the repeated motion makes your shaft drag across her g-spot, as if you were actually fucking her, but no, you're simply applying delicious pressure to her lower abdomen. You keep to your word, keeping your hips immobile even as Hayoung begins to squirm.

"Ah..." Hayoung leans forward, allowing your fingers to sink in further, pushing her pussy walls more insistently over your cock. She wanted it to last longer, but the more you ground her g-spot onto your cock, the more she wanted to cum now! "Nngh..." With willpower that surprises even herself, she grabs your hand and pulls it away.

"Not yet."

"I'll go slower." Hayoung jumps when you place your hand back where it was, but with a soft and very slight press, she relaxes—she could handle that much. She takes a deep breath and resumes her work best she can. You watch her screen and the security cam footage, noting the other employees' various tendencies at work—Saerom constantly reorganized her papers on her desk; Nagyung had a tongue habit you hadn't noticed until now; Jiwon loved to brush her hair; Jisun constantly touched up her makeup; Chaeyoung was always looking at the mirror; Seoyeon was regularly scribbling on her little notebook.

As for Hayoung, the main thing you noted was how wet she is as you continued to apply small pressure to the spot randomly, slowly ramping up in force and frequency. The few drops of slick on the chair initially is becoming a more noticeable puddle, and every time you press down now is followed by a deep breath from her.

God I just need to cum, but not yet! Not yet Song Hayoung! She bites her lower lip as you press deep on her womb, making her g-spot rub against you cock strongly. It's 5:50 pm, just 10 more minutes and she can get off work and get off. "Mmm!" You rub your finger up and down, and it causes the friction to grow exponentially. Hayoung tenses, a single spasm of her pussy around you signaling her closeness.

"Can I make you cum?" your whisper in her ear.

"N-Not yet! The work day's not over yet!"

"When does it end?"

"6 pm!" Hayoung gasps as you lift your fingers. Truth be told, Hayoung does no work, her eyes focused on the clock as she stares a hole through the monitor. You are right there with her, the two of you watching the static number tick up.

5:59 pm

...

6:00 pm

Hayoung intended to grab your hand and bring it to her pussy, but you move faster—your fingers drum furiously over her mound, pressing her g-spot onto your cock over and over, rubbing her front wall against your shaft repeatedly. In her edged state it feels like you're fucking her even as the two of you sit still in the chair, and Hayoung jerks back, screaming into your neck as you make her explode. The spasms come fast and furious, her pussy contracting around you erratically. Now she's bucking on your lap, throwing her hips back against you for more friction. You keep your hand over her mons, pressing your fingers rhythmically into her, feeling her twitch and jerk under your fingers. Her walls clench around you firmly multiple times, and Hayoung let's out a strangled moan—she's rolling from one orgasm to another, crying as another wave of pleasure crests over her.

"N-No more, stop..." she finally croaks, and you press your fingers deep into her flesh before finally letting go, earning yourself a whimper from Hayoung. "Ah... worth the wait."

"You really waited till the work day ended huh?" you manage in a strained voice—you wanted to get off too.

"Yes, work hard, play hard," Hayoung says with all due seriousness. "Now it's your turn to play." She gets off you and beckons you to get up, taking your spot in the chair instead. "Sit."

"Where?"

"Here."

"I can't sit on you!"

"Fine, how about now?" Hayoung spreads her legs, and instead of just diving in and fucking her right there, she insists that you sit between her legs, and she wraps them around your waist loosely, like a clingy sloth. "You see that folder? Open it and click on the videos."

You do as she instructs, while she takes off her blouse, and your eyes widen when you see yourself in the videos—not only did she have footage of you and Nagyung, she had footage of you and Jiwon too! You groan as you feel Hayoung's soft chest and hard nipples press against your back, and her hands reach around to stroke you two-handed.

"Bet you wish you had these videos didn't you? They make very good material for long nights, hehehe."

"Yeah, oh fuck... Have you been watching them?"

"Mmhmm, maybe I even shared it with Jiwon and Nagyung, who knows if they watch them too." The video is silent, but that only servers to make Hayoung's handjob louder as she rubs pre-cum all over your shaft. You watch Jiwon squirt all over your hand, and you grunt and spurt a little more lubrication for Hayoung. Jiwon is bouncing on you hard on one screen, and you've bent Nagyung over the desk on the other, and as the pace of the videos goes up, Hayoung's strokes get faster too.

"Look at that mess you made Jiwon make, I remember Saerom ordering new furniture the very next day. Maybe she gave the furniture to Jiwon? I don't know."

"Fuck Hayoung!"

"Or maybe it's in storage somewhere. I know, you should take Jiwon there and make her squirt all over it again, just for fun. Or take Nagyung there, actually no, do it somewhere I can watch, have you made Nagyung squirt before?" Hayoung fills your mind with all kinds of filthy thoughts.

"Ugh, going to cum!"

"Do it, cum!" She grinds her palm over your cockhead, and with a loud shout you burst, splattering her hand with your load. You let out a long low moan as Hayoung catches your load with one hand while wringing you dry with the other. By the time you are done her palm is covered with thick white fluid, sliding off and dripping on to the seat.

"Ah, damn!" you gasp, relaxing against her as you come down.

"Mmm delicious." You can't see her behind you, but you know that Hayoung is licking her hand clean right now. You confirms it when she grabs your cock again with a saliva-coated hand. "How about you think about what position we should do it in and get hard again quickly?"

"Well, we can't do it in this position anyways. Switch?" Hayoung agrees. You get up, as does Hayoung, and she grabs some wipes to clean the chair. In her bent over stance you arrive at an answer quickly. "I want you like this."

"Hm? Oh..." A loud gasp escapes her as you take her by surprise and from behind. "That was quick." You reach around and squeeze a breast, and her nipple stiffes against your fingertips—she definitely did not mind. But the chair rolls and moves as you try to fuck her, and Hayoung quickly grows annoyed. "Just fuck me over the desk!" You wrap your arms around Hayoung's torso and swing her around, planting her on the table with a solid thump.

"Shit, sorry."

"It's fine, keep going!" You start with slow pumps of your hips, pushing past Hayoung's tightness with every thrust. But even after she has sat on your cock for the whole day, her "lock" has not memorized the shape of your "key". So you apply more force—if the lock can't be unlocked, then it has to be picked. You start sawing in and out of her, causing her monitors to shake slightly. The videos continue to play, and Hayoung moans as she finally begins to feel what Nagyung and Jiwon felt in the recordings.

"So fucking tight!" She hears your growl, and unconsciously she tightens on you further. Hayoung grunts as you paw at her chest, squeezing her tits from behind. You're trying to press all her buttons—tweaking her nipples, squeeizng her breasts, pressing on her womb from above even as you pounded her. And then a hand drifts down to apply tension, rubbing on her clit—if you didn't pick her lock, you definitely ruined it as Hayoung jerks and cries out.

"Oh, oh fuck, ahhh!" Her legs start trembling, and the images of Nagyung and Jiwon being fucked disappear as Hayoung eyes roll into her head, wiped out by the strong orgasm. Her walls loosen for just a moment before contracting violently around you. You watch her back flex erotically before she shivers and goes still, allowing you to continue to fuck her, close to your own release again.

"Hayoung, I'm gonna cum!"

"Oh fuck... Pull out!" Weakly Hayoung drops to her knees just as you begin to throb. She makes to grab your shaft, but so slippery it is from her slick that it slips out of her hand, and you end up shooting it over her desk, one blast splattering a monitor. She manages to take your throbbing length in hand, but not before another cumshot lands on her chin and drips down to her chest. Your whole climax is a sloppy affair as Hayoung finally manages to rein you in, swallowing the rest of your load with her lips wrapped around your tip.

"God... fuck Hayoung!" you gasp, bracing yourself on her desk before slowly lowering yourself down next to her. She can only manage a gulp in reply, and you quickly hand her the first thing you can find—her blouse. You get a painful slap on the shoulder for that.

"Wipes!"

You hand her the wipes she grabbed earlier, and Hayoung cleans herself up before pulling the blouse over herself. Shivering in the air-conditioned room the two of you quickly get dressed before Hayoung looks at the damage done.

"Oh my god, thank god you didn't hit the keyboard," she mutters, wiping her monitor and desk of your load.

"Yeah sorry about that, you slipped and I just, you know."

"Now imagine that hitting the back of my throat, hehehe."

"For how cute you are you really can be quite dirty."

"Cute, me?" Hayoung sidles close to you, and blushing, you have to take a step back.

"No, you're not cute! I mean yes you are, I mean—" Hayoung laughs at your flustered look before beckoning you in for a whisper.

"Did you forget? We double-teamed our dear Saerom between the two of us, what makes you think my head isn't in the gutter?" She leaves you stunned as she begins to close up for the night. "Get your stuff, I'm locking the office soon. Oh, and give me the keycard back." Dutifully you hand back your access card and wait at the door obediently, like an employee waiting for their boss to leave first.

"Well, thanks for coming, consider our deal done, Saerom won't find out about you and Nagyung."

"Thanks. Speaking of Saerom, were you the one who told Saerom about me and Jiwon? Since you had the video."

"No, you got unlucky that time, the system logs when someone's in her office, and you and Jiwon entering her office was unexpected, so she pulled the video herself."

"And me and Nagyung?"

"She knows Nagyung was supposed to be there, so on the logs it doesn't look surprising, she won't pull it up. If you don't tell and I don't tell, how would she find out?"

"Okay, that's a relief."

"Now that you know though, if you ever want to, you know, fuck somewhere that's not Saerom's office, I wouldn't mind watching."

"How would you watch if we're the ones— Oh!" You realize what she means after a short delay.

"I haven't seen you talk to Seoyeon or Chaeyoung much, just saying. Of course, if you want to come over and fuck me I wouldn't mind either hmm?"

"Right, ahem..." you cough awkwardly at the suggestion. "I'll think about it, bye then." Hayoung leans in to give you a chaste kiss before waving goodbye to you joyfully.

"Have a good weekend!"

You think to yourself as you walk away: Saerom may be the leader of the company, but Hayoung is the one that sees all.

A/N: Finally got around to continuing FROMIS app, gonna try to write Seoyeon and Chaeyoung chapters as soon as I get an idea... so...within 1 year? Thanks for reading!

#smut #hayoung #fromis9

[pisspope]

rei and zeke bday hcs cause like,,, why not (but also bc its what the ppl voted for)

tw: implied sex, references to canon typical violence

zeke

- its not that his parents didn’t celebrate his birthday at all its just,,, it was usually a small affair with influential PTA members and their kids. in other words, no one zeke got along with. very much a “seen not heard” while the grown ups sip mimosas type deal

- and of course zeke does everything in service of disappointing his parents so!!! its party time

- honestly u could try to throw a surprise party but good fucking luck this man is snoopy as all hell. every time ur out just a little too long with pieck or porco (they’re bickering over how early to buy balloons) he’s got u on the horn like “i know ur planning something”. would never accuse u of cheating bc he fully believes his own hype and knows u wouldnt DARE cheat on Adonis Himself (Narcissus more like but w/e)

- so yeah he’s probably at least a little involved in the planning of it all, wants to backseat drive because hes “not a loser who plans his own birthday party”. sending u screenshots from his notes app with his favorite colors, songs, what cake he wants, etc. lowkey insufferable

- day comes and you’ve rented out the kid’s bday party section of a bowling alley/arcade and filled it with every friend you can think of that isn’t vaguely shitty or hasn’t been burned by zeke in some way. so like… maybe 10 people, gabi and the kids included so they have a believable cover story if the staff asks who the party’s for. not that they’d care but zeke loves to play like he’s so sNeAkY and sHiFty by telling everyone it’s a party for udo or something.

- that man can BOWL and he’s an ass about it. the sorest winner in the world. in every universe he will knock down 10 or more little dudes with a rock and cheer and whoop and holler like an idiot. jeering at porco when he gets a gutter ball and you see reiner pull him aside like “just let him have it today. its his big day.” as if it is not ALSO reiner’s big day

- played with the idea of him getting a devil’s food cake and reiner getting an angel’s food cake for the lolz but he’s not sharing a party on his life so. coffee cake 100%, both because he likes it and because the kids don’t, which means more to take home. schemer that he is

- does ask for gifts but is pretty insistent about it being under 20 dollars (so he can see who overspent and ACTUALLY loves him. male manipulator). falco gets him an officially licensed sock monkey and he cries (pussy). whispering to u after that if his parents ever die horribly he’ll adopt him

- heading to the connected arcade after and, second verse same as the first, he kills at skee ball. breaks the record on each machine one after the other just to show off, gets all smirky holding the wad of tickets, talking about how he “does it all for uuuuu” and gives u the wettest sloppiest kiss on the cheek just to embarrass u

- does actually give u all his winnings tho. the high score, the posterity, the want to be remembered,,, the ego boost is enough, u can have the 2100 ticket pikachu plush <3 (u will never hear the end of this. i pity u)

- def gets home with his leftover dessert in hand and gifts in bags on his wrist, smile more genuine than usual. opening the door and letting u in, gifts and food quickly forgotten in lieu of giving you a proper thank you for helping put all this together

- 100% squeezing ur ass and asking if there’s any leftover cake for him, knowing it’ll make u roll your eyes but that you’ll relent bc the cheese is part of the charm (and boy when he gets that treat he asked for? he EATS)

reiner

- something something something same birthday complete opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of how they celebrate it

- wants his bday to be a nice quiet affair with the people he loves most, his little found family and maybe karina if hes feeling generous that year

- if u plan a party in any capacity hes gotta be part of the action! wants to hang streamers, balloons, any little things you decide on to spruce up your place for the event (please don’t call it an event he can’t handle the pressure)

- also u can’t have a cookout bday bc he will insist on working the grill the whole time. shark coded, will drown if he isn’t doing something 

- the party itself is extremely laidback, feels more like a big hangout. ordering 3 of his favorite type of pizza, bringing out beanbags and comfy chairs from other parts of the house so everyone can sit in the living room together. gabi and falco take the tv hostage to play video games and colt and bertholdt somehow get roped into it. it’s raucous, but comfortable.

- u and gabi collab on a homemade cake, but reiner is the baker in the family and gabi just likes the excuse to make a mess. end up making some easy cookies and buying a walmart sheet cake, and its a good thing, too, because just the sight of his name is enough to make him tear up. “you didn’t have to do all this” what, make a phone call to get ur name on a cake? the bar is on the floor unfortunately

- no presents because he can’t handle the pressure, but there’s a couple cards and his lip trembles over each one. zeke gets him a card that’s obviously for kids with stickers inside but he tears up at that one too because “it even comes with a little gift… so thoughtful…”

- rest of the party is spent doing more of the same, a couple beers are thrown back, maybe tosses a football around or something. very classic suburban white picket fence dream party. it brings reiner a quiet joy, one that he keeps close to his chest, a memory that he’ll look back on over and over.

- the guests start to filter out one by one until its just u and him, picking up paper plates, putting away leftovers. its all very domestic, it might actually be reiner’s favorite part. to just be with u in companionable silence, scooting around and putting the house in order. domesticity is something sacred that he never thought he’d have, and its a joy to share it with u.

- he INSISTS on sitting on the couch with u after, gives u those big eyes that he only gets when he wants u to pet his hair, falls asleep to one of his favorite comfort films with your hands on his head, totally content

- wakes up in the wee hours and carries u to bed like the big bear of a man that he is, not expecting anything of you, just wanting u to be comfortable. tucks u in and gives u a kiss like it’s your birthday or something

- and it’s not a gift bc reiner specifically requested no gifts, but if he wakes up to u wearing something special the next morning, something that leaves nothing to the imagination, i mean… maybe the party doesn’t have to be over quite yet

#reiner braun #zeke yaeger #reiner braun x reader #zeke yaeger x reader #zeke #rei #aot #cakecore #question mark #reimar #zeke yeager x reader

[kpforpresident]

Clexaweek Day 6: workplace romance 🌱

Plant shop AU. Or, an AU of an AU. 

collab with @thecrimsonknight, the link to the beautiful moodboard that they made is here.

It had been raining all day. Fat streams of rainwater poured off of the dark green eve that sagged defeatedly under the sheer weight of rain, the tinny plink plink plink of drops hitting the metallic gutter echoing under the door frame as they soared through the humid mid-July air. Puddles splashed merrily under harried car wheels as they rushed by the street corner where Lexa’s cozy shop sat, hunched figures under black umbrellas milling about the street corners as people hastily tried to get from their point A to point B relatively dry. A city that sat nestled in the PNW, Polis was no stranger to wet, gray days or foggy cool mornings. However, this summer had been particularly rainy, long weather forecasts of dreary little clouds sitting like sullen soldiers on Lexa’s weather app no matter how often she refreshed and hoped for a crack of sunshine in the little line of weather emojis. 

Lexa fidgeted impatiently on her stool, hands clasping and unclasping in front of her and she fought the urge to reach out and straighten the spool of twine that sat primly next to her favorite gardening shears. Chancing one more glance at the slim gold watch that sat clasped around her left wrist, she sighed as she gave up and straightened from her boredom-induced slump, feeling her spine pop slightly as she unfolded from the rickety little stool to standing. 

This chick has two more minutes, and then I’m locking the door and going home to watch trash TV and eat dollar ramen noodles, Lexa thought absentmindedly as she drummed her fingers on the battered workbench, watching the secondhand slowly tick towards 4:02. This is the last fucking time you hire one of Raven’s friends- just because she’s Anya’s girlfriend doesn’t mean that you have to let this weird ass best friend nepotism stand- remember what happened when you hired Octavia’s brother to build shelving? That was an entire shitshow… Lexa snarked internally as she wandered through the rows of cut flowers, straightening a wilting tulip as her eyes darted against her will again towards the door and the unrelenting deluge outside. Blurry figures continued to rush by, heads toward the ground, shoulders hunched as they all moved in a coordinated, practiced dance borne of many, many rainy days. 

A whole sixty seconds goes by as she stares silently at the thin hand, finally letting her mouth slip into a frown when her expectant gaze darts towards the door to see….no one. Lexa finally let her shoulders slump minutely, hands dropping from where she had been fussing with an all-green bouquet arrangement. Turning the trimmed piece of eucalyptus over and over in her fingers, Lexa turned to the back of the shop and prepared to grab her coat and trudge home once again, mentally preparing for the soggy walk three blocks home to her small albeit cozy apartment. 

As she twisted the eucalyptus branch over again in her fingers, she heard the cheery tinker of her door chime, followed by the door flinging open. Lexa was turning around, warm customer service smile plastered onto her face as the human embodiment of a tsunami bounded through the glass door. 

Lexa felt the smile fall in abject horror off of her stunned face as the same whirlwind promptly swept into the shop and managed to place their foot perfectly into a plate-sized puddle just beside the door mat, arms and legs pinwheeling spectacularly as her feet skidded out from under her. 

She hit the ground with a loud whump, followed by a soft oof as the girl sat up slowly, painfully. Colorful swear words poured from her lips unceasingly as Lexa watched her flex various body parts with increasing confidence among finding the movements absent of pain, clearly going through an inventory of all of her working limbs post- tumble.  

Lexa crouched down hesitantly, trying her best to gather the pile of cream-colored papers that had flown from her hands like feathers from a split pillow as the stranger had crashed to the floor of her shop. Sheath of papers finally gathered into a messy stack, Lexa looked up, mouth opening involuntarily as she accidentally locked gazes with the bluest set of eyes she’d ever encountered. 

“I- you- you wouldn’t happen to be Clarke, would you?” Lexa managed to croak out after a long moment, where the stranger- Clarke- slowly staggered to her feet with a small wince, free hand rubbing where her hip had made contact with the concrete floor as she nodded in confirmation. Clarke’s other hand tentatively extended to take the stack of what Lexa now realized were art sketches, a small smile breaking across her face like the sun after a rainstorm as their fingers brushed slightly. Lexa absently mirrored her expression, eyes widening slightly as she did so. She flexed her hand as she retreated to behind the workbench, managing to settle onto her stool without looking like too much of a dunce. 

Raven, in typical menace fashion, had neglected to mention that her artist friend that Lexa had hired to paint a mural on the blank back wall of her studio, was shockingly, jaw droppingly attractive. Not that Lexa should’ve been surprised. Raven, with her warm brown eyes, flawless skin, and shimmering black hair, could’ve walked straight out of a playboy version of a Mechanics Monthly, even covered in car oil and grease as she usually was when she came home from work from the small shop she owned with Lincoln just outside of Polis. Lincoln’s fiance Octavia was similarly stunning, with sharp cheekbones and a muscular figure, dark eyes cunning and softened by a perfect pouting mouth. Lincoln clearly felt similarly, his gaze becoming soft and dreamy when Octavia would stride into the shop in her free time, a gym bag slung over her shoulder on her way home from the boxing studio that she co-owned with Anya. 

Lexa shouldn’t have been shocked that Clarke looked like a Botachelli angel, curves enclosed perfectly in a dark wash pair of jeans, a faded t-shirt slouching perfectly on her shorter frame, but still she floundered for words as the bright cerulean gaze met hers expectantly, Clarke hobbling forward to spread her cache of doodles across Lexa’s desk. Lexa tried not to drool obnoxiously as a pair of worn Doc Martens came into view at the bottom of her field of vision. 

Sappho, give me strength, Lexa thinks frantically, heart beating a tempo against her ribcage as her fingers tap the wooden desk nonsensically, desperately, as a wave of sweet perfume engulfs her when Clarke shifts slightly to tuck a graphite pencil behind her ear, shimmering waves of blonde hair tumbling out from a harried braid. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Clarke blurts out apologetically, tracing her finger over a smudge of charcoal in the lower corner of the topmost sketch. Lexa was already shaking her head before her brain engaged, dismissing Clarke’s wavered apology before it had fully passed her lips. 

“It’s totally fine, Clarke” Lexa soothes as she darted her gaze down to appraise the charcoal lines that Clarke had spread as a silent offering in front of her, sentence petering off slowly as she leaned closer to appreciate the drawings. ‘“These- these are amazing, Raven mentioned that you left your pre-med track to go to art school downtown after your dad died?” 

Clarke nods silently, chewing on a rose colored lip as her thumb smoothed over a sketch of an apple blossom, a feathery fern bending effortlessly in the background. Lexa notes the slight tension in her shoulders at the mention of her father and steers the conversation to safer waters, hair falling out of its tired bun as she bends over the drawings to examine them in more detail. She’s so entranced by the sketches she doesn’t see Clarke’s gaze trace over her figure, lingering on how Lexa’s lips purse in thought as she traces a reverent finger over a very realistic tulip bud. 

“I mean, I love them all,” Lexa concludes helplessly as she runs a thoughtful hand through her hair, chancing a glance up at Clarke, who happens to be gazing at Lexa from her higher vantage point at the same time. “I would love for you to paint any of them on the wall, I’d love to just let you go wild. I’m happy to pay for whatever paint you need on top of your base rate for your time, I know it’s a big wall.”

Lexa can feel her cheeks go crimson as they lock eyes again, standing awkwardly to gesture uselessly at the large white wall that borders the back of her store, decorated only by a small floral fridge on the far right side. 

“I- do you like italian food?” Clarke blurts out from somewhere behind her shoulder, Lexa turning incredulously to be met with a twin set of flaming pink cheeks. “Can I buy you dinner, and we can sketch out the mural? Is that ok? Is that breaking some sort of client contractor rule? Because I already swore to Rae that I wouldn’t fuck this up, because Anya’s essentially your sister and all–” 

“I’d love to get dinner with you, Clarke.” 

///

Four months later when Clarke finally puts the finishing touches on the mural, they celebrate with takeout Italian food and champagne on the floor of the little flower shop.

#clexaweek23 #day6 #clexa #clarke x lexa #plant shop au

[morvantmortuary]

so, me rambling a weird little sidequest I’ve been on lately.

when hanging out on twitter (smth I honestly plan to do less of, as that place is more of a gutter than usual lately), I saw another creator I follow mentioning they have a voiceclaim for one of their OCs

now, I’ve heard of voiceclaims before obvi, but it just kind of dawned on me that this was something I could also do?? specifically for my own OCs??? well, at least two of them. bc hex still sounds exactly like diego, no change, but unless dani and eva want to drop videos tomorrow of them working on medium-ish creole* accents, I’m kind of working from scratch for those two

(*creole in the sense of it previously meaning “of european descent” but that has shifted according to recent demographics, so I’m still doing research on what a more specific term to describe it might be)

but so anyway, I’m fairly adhd (you’re all shocked, I know) and definitely benefit from having background sound while I’m working, and I’m also someone who needs a podcast on to fall asleep so my brain has to follow a narrative and not run all over the place, so I immediately was like “omg audiobooks of course :0” bc it wouldn’t even have to matter what the book was about, bc if the voice was right I could just pretend it was one of them reading me something random from a bookshelf and that would be fine

but god, if my dumb ass hasn’t been digging through my audiobooks app for a while now. I’ve been working on the twins one at a time, so I’ve been searching for maxi first, and once I eliminate everyone who’s the wrong gender and age I’m left with so few options I’m like “…hm okay this might be tricky.”

I had it between two I thought sounded decent, but then when I went to research other roles the actors have done, I discover their accents are just limited to these parts I’m investigating. Which should be fine - it’s not like their voices are based on anyone real - but then my virgo ass worries that it wouldn’t be accurate, then. but again, it’s not like the actors I’ve picked for fcs would exactly be accurate either, so idk what I’m so worried about!!

idk, maybe it’s the fact that my dad’s folks are from here (not where I live in LA specifically, more bayou country) and I’d want to reflect it accurately/not want anyone to think I’d settle just for a heavy-handed imitation. ._. but at the end of the day, that’s still me holding myself to standards no one else is holding me to, so. unless we’re casting the hbo series tomorrow, I’m not gonna sweat it too much lmao

anyway!! if I come up with maxi or rora, I’ll be sure to rec them here so other people can have a listen. 🖤 but also, this is me putting out a call to say if anyone can think of another place I might sort through people’s voices, I’d appreciate it ✨ (I might try podcasts next if I need to, but that feels way more like a needle in a haystack when I can at least sort through audiobooks by setting and summary, etc.)

anyway!! this is me just thinking out loud a bit. to everyone who sent the Morvants hugs the other day, they are v much mutual and reciprocated and appreciated 🖤🖤🖤 y’all are angels 🥰 I hope everyone’s night is going okay in the meantime ✨

#and then rarae says #voice claim #oc voice claim #morvant mortuary #yes I know I used that gif before I still love it

[i-like-turkey]

heyy, how are you??? I don't know of you're still answering the fanfiction writing asks but there's a few I would like to ask: #2, 18, 20, 21 and 24, if you can and want to answer.

Also I would d*e to see a print of your notes app just because I'm that curious LOL. Love your fics and I'm so happy that you decided to write for kacy ❤️

I'm freezing my ass off on day 2 without heat, but otherwise I'm fucking fantastic. Thanks for asking!

2. Where do you get your fic ideas?

Uhhhhhhhhhhh???? I guess my sorta twisted sense of humor and the fact that my mind is always in the gutter? I think all the smut is attributable to my 13 months of pandemic celibacy. I never had to think too much about sex before that cause I had a pretty active social life. Then the longer my isolation period lasted, the longer I was forced to spend inside my head with my memories and idk it's hard to explain and will quickly get into TMI territory, but I don't think I could be as descriptive or imaginative if I hadn't spent so much time alone.

18. Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

It depends. I have a mind that needs to verify information and find sources and know everything and that can get exhausting when it leads to me researching stuff for a fic that I don't really need to research. So I'd say I don't enjoy when that happens. But big aspects of my fics where accuracy is important, I do enjoy the research for that.

So far Throw Pillows required the most research. Law School Au is quickly going to blow that away. I've already got footnotes in my draft cause I'll be including cases. So... 🤓😂

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

Canon-ish is probably my favorite. I do like playing within the canon sandbox, but then taking obvious liberties. So my canon smut series is something I'm really enjoying.

21. Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

One-shots. And I'm including the handful of 2 chapter fics in those cause I only split those to give y'all something early and because people have said they prefer chapter breaks to getting 20k on a page. But I like those because I can write them in 1-2 weeks and be done with them.

Throw Pillows was mentally taxing for a few reasons. I had some weird stuff happening in my ask box with it. I guess that's what happens when you tackle a lengthy WIP. It was almost enough to dissuade me from ever writing something that long again. But then they had to make Kate an attorney and now I will probably suffer some more of the mentally taxing bs as I slowly roll that fic out.

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

It all comes down to the purpose of the fic and whose viewpoint/inner dialogue will serve that purpose best. In my canon smut, I've been trying to balance POVs. But I often default to Kate because Lucy is more of mystery canon wise and I'm worried about making assumptions about her past that could get Jossed in the future. So in the 2x06 fic when I wanted to write her as being super upset about something, I chose Kate because then I didn't have to figure out what she was so damn upset about.

And then in 'What's His Name?' it had to be in Lucy's POV because I needed to make it clear that she was worried about Kate and going along with the plan because she loves Kate. It would have been difficult to get across her genuine acceptance of the scheme had I gone with Kate and written something that would have been 10000% more cracky cause Kate's mind throughout it would have been a non-stop rambling anxious monologue.

Speaking of rambling, I shall shut up now and get back to 2x07 smut.

P.S. my notes app is my brain. If anyone ever got into that I'd die.

#asks #my writing #slow 'verse #kacy canon smut series

[m4rsd1ed]

He saved me || Part 7: Back to the Hellhole

(trigger warning: drugs, abuse, alcohol abuse, mentions of weed here and there, Catherine cursing half the chapter, and lowercase is intended for this chapter.) 

(don't do drugs guys, unless you wanna end up in the gutter)   (A/N: this is a flashback to before they moved in with Morgan) .....

shoot, mom's calling me. the hell does she want? i walk downstairs to find her high as hell. she slurs out: "get me a damn coffee or finish my cigarette" 'maybe later you high as hell hag.' i thought. she pops two pills and waits for the effect to settle in. i got her the coffee she wanted. 

"mom? you wanted coffee?" i ask her quietly. "just give me that shit" she slurred out. i went upstairs soon after, alice texted me saying: is she asleep or high as hell? i texted back saying: high as hell, you ready? meaning, time to sneak out. mom never leaves the house to buy us anything, so.. we snuck out. i had a whole savings jar in my room it was all the spare change i found. i grab half of my fives and some others. while sneaking to alice's room to get out easier. 

you see, me and my sister aren't in a good position at the moment. mom has an addiction, my dad's somewhere in wishington-! never mind. we both hear the sound of mom. shouting my name. "norman! get your ass down here!" shit, i left my phone out when she was asleep. "yes? you called?" i quietly ask. she shows the notes I put in my notes app about ...morgan. fuck it.

(Sorry this is short we've been busy a lot but the summer just started so we'll try and make a long one next time)

#fanfic writer #mars writes 🌷 #wattpad #writing #he saved me

[xsadcorebenji]

both movie tickets for later

for a group outing and

when did movie tickets seriously become $16

i miss $10 tickets and sneaking into movies for a day

all the things i used to do alone and now

they all become advice for a column/listicle of things to do alone for people who never had to experience that

it’s hard not to re-assess and think

“christ really?”

gas prices are high too,

someone once asked me how i go about where i go to when i just go wherever to check it out

i said; “i just go”

and i could tell they were dissatisfied with the answer

then re-assessed and explained

“we’ll i wanted to get brick toast so i just looked wherever”

and to me, it’s so bizarre how powerless the panopticon society is

i remember starting to journal again and googling “how to journal”

how fucked up is that?

all the shit that used to come so instinctively stunted by an invisible audience of internal critics

but it’s the aftertaste of

comfort society

let’s do away and avoid everybody and everything that reminds us of a “no-no”

“

people shouldn’t be allowed to grow,

people should function like trading cards,

with a second market value prescribed based on perceive value for the ‘community’

“

can we walk away from

paper cut ego concepts

everything a fast fashion?

and even the stuff i’m supposed to be a “fan” of

i apparently have to consume so voraciously that every tidbit of information on the topic gets exhausted

why leave space for any communion or communication, when we can solely know everything ourselves?

lately i’ve been thinking about how much

i just want to go bowling on a friday night in a date setting,

i fucking suck at bowling

in fact i’d probably gutter ball the entire time

and get nearly kicked out because i’m throwing the balls too hard

i mean fair enough, like i guess flinging around a heavy ball like that in a way it could damage the floors ain’t ideal but

(also fuck you, i don’t know how to bowl and i’m wearing smelly ass shoes)

(i wonder what fuck just has bowling shoes casually, like i mean i guess if you do it as a league)

i just consider it a low stakes social setting

but it’s like don’t quite feel like downloading dating apps

everyone feels and sounds like a landmine

90% of the time, i wish i could say

“i’m sorry but i really don’t care, i don’t care if you’re emotionally unavailable and you went through some whatever shit, and the last dude wanted you for sex,

can we just go FUCKING bowling?”

christ. i get that i exude ‘genuine’ vibes and that somehow activates a reflex that goes

‘here’s all the things i an using to keeping my emotions distant’

bro; i do not need a goddamn explanation

it shouldn’t be this fucking to go for a fucking walk in a park

get ice cream

and look at a lake or some shit

literally

i will ask for the lowest stakes

but the concept alone is “so REAL” for you

shout out to the person who wanted to keep things super platonic, i came up with some plans and said “i’ll treat you to some ice cream”

and person literally reacted so harshly because it sounded “too much like a date”

my god, i do not know what happened to a lot of you people anymore

it really shouldn’t be so fucking hard to go bowling

and then talk

and see if we even have anything in common actually

at this point,

i feel like my only option is for someone to have a tryst

and i don’t know how much of that i would want to entertain

the touch-starved me would enjoy

but the reality me would reject because i dislike disloyalty

it’s one thing if they know about me and it’s a whatever

but another thing if it’s a sneak around

feels wack,

but sadly i don’t know,

been searching for events that interest me but genuinely there’s not much around here

i really should’ve

been less absentminded in high school and not be searching for “the one” back then

really killed a lot of chances to just go on superficial low stakes dates

can’t do much now,

either way, this is a temporary sadness

we have to acknowledge that,

otherwise we just start to think the worst of ourselves when it doesn’t help to

i wish i could be more open,

like there is a person i know i could probably ask on a date but christ i get fixated on their annoying habits

and it’s not like annoying habits where i can overlook because there’s all this other stuff we established and have in common

it’s more annoying habits, and you weirdly love-bombed me out of the blue so it makes me not want to meet you

annoying habits and when i gave you my number, i thought we’d continue joking around but instead the next two days you just took it in a direction of personal issues i simply couldn’t relate to

so it’s like, the part of me that wanted to get to know you more struggles to exist because it’s like

“man we literally talked for a few days,

how you gonna be like ‘oh i hate how my friend is queerphobic and won’t accept my dead partner’s queerness’”

the fuck do you want me to say? like goddamn if anyone was like that around me, they ain’t a friend and trust

i’d drag that fucker through the ground and make them eat pavement

i cut people off on some of the flimsiest shit sometimes and god i wish i could give that ability to you

talking bout some queer phobic piece of shit friend like don’t give a fuck if you two came out of the same womb, i wouldn’t let that vibe even near my shit

retail workers seem to enjoy my vibe (but can’t be deluded considering it’s their job to be nice and friendly)

but sometimes it’s like

“that it? make myself uncomfortable as all hell fucking putting ppl on the spot at their place of work?”

fucking hell; i miss school for the fact it forces socialization and does away with most of those hangups (mine included)

but person be posting fucking status updates in Instagram, in the space where i’m tryna look at dumb memes me and my friends share with each other,

and it’s the worst possible function of IG, and you’re the only person, and i kid you the fuck not,

like i’m following 1000+ accounts and y’all really be the only one posting daily, and just saying the same thing over and over again

#personal

[a-place-to-put-my-thoughts]

8/3/2022 9:39 PM

talking with mom nowadays is just plain awkward at best. went on a walk with [🐕] today, and I was kinda happy to go on a walk. that is, until mom mentioned getting a job or going to school. my attitude went out the window of that speeding car and into the gutters of [town]. I brought up potentially streaming my art as an income source, and she didn't say it out loud but i could tell she wanted to shoot that idea out of my desperate grasp. I mentioned that no minimum wage worker working full-time couldn't sustain themselves, and she said "I know people who do that and they're fine". probably thinking about some random person she knew from high-school because that sure as hell isn't the case nowadays. I remained mostly silent during the walk, knowing that heaven forbid I started to talk about my own crap she'd turn on me. I don't feel safe talking to her anymore. I always fear she's going to try and shit on everything i say or do. it's fine when I'm actually doing nothing and need to do something, but still. if she sees this that'd be a whole different story. she would probably cry or something and try to ask me why i feel like this and that she sees she did nothing wrong or something similar. i don't want to talk to her about this shit. i cry too much, think too fast and never say what i actually mean. I never have time to organize my thoughts into what I want to say before something happens. "I'm always here if you need to talk" I feel like if I do she'll see me as a nuisance since I only feel this way late at night and she needs to go to work or just get up early. I hate how I can talk more easily and openly with [🏈], my father figure of which I only see every once and a while nowadays. Why can't she be as supportive as him? he didn't try to knock me down when I mentioned streaming, hell he encouraged me and wants to help me set all of that up. why do i feel closer to him than my mom? Maybe it's because we have more things in common to talk about, like games and movies and technology and such. mom only talks highly of me when it comes to my art, and even today she phrased my art on the gift for [🥔] like "making [hers] seem like kids drawings". like yeah but come on, it feels like she's fishing for sympathy from me like "oh no your art is good too" or something like that. When I ran on the walk with [🐕] and made it to the bench, she didn't seem impressed. isn't that what you wanted? for me to get exercise? I feel vaguely unloved in this house. I know it's probably because I don't spend time downstairs and that I'm not taking my meds regularly, but gods this hurts so bad to write about. part of me wishes she sees this and gives me a hug and tells me everything will be alright, but i know those words are hollow. maybe this childhood trauma makes me want a more motherly figure comfort me in life. I want hugs, I want kisses, I want to feel loved. but i just don't. not here. i feel like those I've met online love me more. I feel like [🌌] loves me more. Hell, I feel like [🪴] loves me more.

i fucking need therapy but gods know how long it's gonna take for me to actually pick up the phone and make it happen. for now, this notes app is my therapist. a shitty one, but it still feels more welcoming than the woman downstairs. I want to feel loved. I want to feel loved so fuckign bad. does she love me? she will immediately say yes, but does she really? I've been nothing but a burden for the past ⅔ of a year basically, and she's shown me nothing but resentment and disappointment. i probably don't deserve her love right now but gods do i crave it. i want encouragement, i want love, i want sympathy, i want praise, but I know I don't deserve that last one for sitting on my ass all day. i just want to be held right now. no words, no Judgement, i just want to be held and comforted without any questions about it. please. that's all i want right now. maybe i should go downstairs. if i go down crying it'll be the first legitimate concern I've gotten from her in a long time. it feels like emotional manipulation but i just want care. i want to be a kid again. no crippling responsibilities or decisions for the future, just having fun and making friends and getting hugs and being praised for my good work. but i can't. those days are over and i need to grow up. but it's scary and hard to understand and i don't feel like an adult. i don't feel ready. it's all so scary. i want my mom but i fear her reaction to me.

I'm only 19 but the world expects me to be 30 and experienced in my field of work. the world's going to end before then. my rights are being stripped away, as a fem-aligned person and as a queer. war is on the horizon. if i make it to 50 I'll be surprised. hell, I'd be lucky if i make it to 40, or 35, or even 30.

#hgca.

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Snacks and Nibbles

Snacks and Nibbles

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: Alien Sex, Poly Relationship, Monster Fucking, Biting, Venom Being Venom, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Threesome (kinda), Pet Names

Relationships: Eddie Brock x Venom x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7940

A/N: From my It’s a Match Series on Ao3, let me know what you think of this breakdown v seperate parts/posts for chapters. Gifs are not mine just chapter breaks (though I did make the header). 

“I’ve decided that I’m a fuckin’ snack and no one’s hungry.” I groaned at my coworker. 

“Yeah, yeah,” They muttered, gazing moving from one monitor to the other, watching a gif and editing where required. 

“Oof,” I murmured, peaking out to ogle at the leather jacket-wearing man who just marched past my cubicle. 

“That’s an ass I could sink my teeth into,” my cubby-mate exhaled next to me.

“You’re telling me, dude,” I flicked my gel pen away and pulled out my phone. 

I just started swiping. I needed to see if I could find him while he was in the building. That was how this stupid dating app worked right? Closer the target the quicker you can match with them? I continued to swipe left until I saw the man in questions, Eddie, on my screen. 

“Found him,” I grinned. 

“Lemme see them pics,” he demanded. “What fucking CGI shit is that?”

His cover picture was certainly a strong choice. No idea what fucking movie he thought he was in, but christ did I want to be apart of it. The rest of his profile was pretty normal. He was a reporter, 38, seemed to own a motorcycle, and into dark chocolate. All things I could get behind… or under. 

“Does he work here?” Cubby-dude asked.

“Fuck,” I whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what if he does? Shit.”

I’d only been working as a designer at the Daily Bulletin for six months. I had just signed a 12-month lease on an overpriced studio apartment just a 30 minutes cycle from the office. Dating a co-worker would probably put me at serious risk of doing something stupid and getting fired. 

All that reasoning didn’t stop me from swiping right though. Just gonna keep letting my genitals do the talking, I thought. Both my coworker and I let out a deep sigh and turned back to our work. Projects needed to be finished more than our gossip did. 

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Of course, that would be my luck. Five minutes out from my house, I puncture a tire on my bike and have to lug the stupid hunk of metal all the way home. That’s the last time I leave my repair kit at home. The aluminum crossbar dug into my shoulder, but I tried to focus on anything else. Literally anything. I stare around at my surroundings, avoiding the few needles and nitro canisters that lay in the gutter. Sure the Tenderloin district wasn’t the nicest, in fact, it was a bit scummy, but like fuck was I going to go back to dorm-style living. I needed my own kitchen and bathroom damn it. 

I stared into the dark empty lot near my building. The regular crowd of homeless people wasn’t huddled in the far corner. Something compelled me to stop and stare. Which was fucking stupid, but hindsight was 20/20 and I’m kinda dumb bitch sometimes. 

A gloved hand landed on my shoulder just as another person stood in front of me. They spun the front wheel of my bike, assuming it would still be my bike by the end of this encounter. 

“What’s a short stack like you doing around here?” 

“Just trying to mind my own business,” I clutched the strap of my backpack. 

Stupid safety. Stupid fucking neon jacket. Stupid bike.

“Didn’t look like you were minding your own business,” The hand on my shoulder dug a thumb into the skin.

“I’m sorry,” I winced. “Look I don’t want any trouble.”

“Looks like trouble is what you’re getting though.” Both men pressed into my personal space, blocking my view of everything else. 

The grip I had on my bike never loosened, in fact, I was white-knuckling it. Fear seized my body. I could have just swung my bike and made a run for it. But I couldn’t lose this bike. It was how I got around. I needed it. 

I also needed my body to be intact and not brutally assaulted, but semantics, right?

“DINNER TIME,” A guttural voice sang.

Oh fuck. OH FUCK. The Demon of San Francisco. I’m dead, so so so dead now. 

I groaned. Like a fed up, annoyed child who didn’t want to go to school. This would be my day. Eddie didn’t match with me on Tinder, I punctured my bike tire, I was getting mugged, and now I was gonna be eaten by some demon thing in a completely not sexy way.

There was a loud wet crunching sound behind me, followed by a shriek and another crunch. When a third crunch never came, I opened my eyes. There was nothing left, the would be muggers had been eaten boots and all. 

“ARE YOU OKAY?”

“Yeah, I guess, I’m sure there is some crime statistic about the percentage of you being attacked closer to home than further away, but I doubt they have any stats on being saved by you. Thanks, dude,” I laughed. When I was nervous I laughed. 

“YOU HAVE A NICE BAG,” I felt my savior pick at my backpack.

“Yeah, I think sharks are really cool. Fuck what everyone else says. They are like sea puppies,” I laughed, again, my pulse racing.

There was a pause in the conversation. I turned around, finally, to look at him, to see the Demon for myself. Maybe he had just gone away after that last comment I made. 

Nope. Still there. Fucking towering over me. The oil slick black… being in front of me seemed to be staring very intently at me. It’s milky white eyes emoted - slightly expanding and then squinting. The white veins across its body convulsed.

“Thanks again dude,” I stuck my free hand, staring at their face, their teeth specifically, which twinkled under the streetlamp.

A hot, clawed hand grabbed mine.

“Also, uh, nice teeth. I think they’re cool. Kinda like shark teeth. Okay, I should let you go now, you don’t want to hear me ramble on about sharks or whatever else weird shit just starts spewing from my mouth. Have a nice night,” I wheezed, trying to hold in my laugh.

“DO YOU NEED HELP GETTING HOME?”

“No, I should be okay, just a few minutes down the road.”

“WE WILL WALK YOU.”

There was no question, just the shift in how they grabbed my hand. We walked hand in hand like a couple, LIKE A COUPLE, all the way back to my five-story walk-up. The automatic light on the porch turned on and fully illuminated their face. 

“Oh, um dude,” I started.

“VENOM.”

“What?”

“WE ARE VENOM.”

“Oh, sorry, I was using dude as a non-gendered term. Didn’t want to assume anything. But not the point. You got like a huge chunk attempted mugger in teeth.”

“DO YOU WANT IT?”

“Nah, I’m having mac n cheese for dinner.”

With that decided, Venom’s long tongue slithered out of its mouth and removed the chunk from their teeth. Heat rose to my cheeks. That should not be sexual. I should have been traumatized several times over by now. But I still felt that slight tingle between my legs.

There was another pause like they were having some kind of internal argument before Venom huffed very loudly, his hot breath wafting over my face and smelling weirdly like tater tots and raw bacon.

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, NIBBLES,” Venom’s tone was grumbly like he was now the annoyed child.

“See you later,” I waved and ran up the steps and entered my passcode. 

“See you later?” I mumbled to myself. How was I going to see him later? I’m not gonna risk getting fucking assaulted on the off chance he finds me. I might have been a bit fucking weird, but I wasn’t suicidal. 

I racked up my bike into the wall mount, waved into the open doorway of the resident manager, and trudged up to the top floor. Once the hideous red door to my apartment was unbolted, I stepped in and redid the locks. My hands were shaking, almost uncontrollably, now. The adrenaline of nearly getting attacked faded quickly and was replaced with panic. I dropped my bag at the door and took off my jacket and shoes. 

Fresh air, I needed fresh air. Even though I was just outside, I needed fresh air now. I opened the one window in my apartment and climbed out onto the fire escape. Codes be damned. My legs dangled over the railing and hard grates hurt my butt. I pulled up Tinder on my phone, praying to whatever fucking gods there were that someone would be interested in me, so I could distract myself from my current freak out.

EDDIE. I matched with Eddie. Like two minutes ago I matched with Eddie. 

Oh god. What do I do? Do I message right away? Do I wait? Oh fuck.

Eddie- Hey, you work at the Daily Bulletin, don’t you?

You- yeah, just a designer though. no writing for me. 😅

Eddie- I thought I recognized you. 

Eddie- Do you want to get a drink sometime?

You- tomorrow night? after work maybe?

Eddie- Awesome. Leave your bike at home.

I squealed into the night air and pumped my phone free fist over my head. Fuck that was easy. I climbed back into my apartment, locked the window, and made my mac n cheese. Dinner eaten, shower taken, I crawled into bed and opened my laptop. I may have a date tomorrow, but there was still the issue of my burning ‘monster fucker’ desire to deal with. A few keystrokes in an incognito window and few key strokes on me later, I was blissfully drifting off to sleep to dream of leather jackets and sharp teeth.   

“EDDIE.”

“Vee, it’s 4 in the morning, I need sleep, so I can do my job, and buy you more chocolate and pay rent.” Eddie rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. 

Venom was awake so Eddie was awake now. The symbiote fluidly wrapped tendrils around his waist and thighs, cuddling him while the floating noodlehead of them came to rest on Eddie’s chest. There was a deep, comforting rumble from Venom before they spoke again.

“WE MUST KEEP NIBBLES.”

“I asked her out, didn’t I?”

“YES, BUT SHE WANTED US TONIGHT AND YOU WERE A PUSSY.”

“I think she liked us both and we’d just saved her. We can’t take advantage of her, especially in a state like that.”

“YOUR SILLY PHONE APP MEANS NOTHING.”

“Hey, she swiped right on us first. She clearly thought I looked nice enough,” Eddie huffed and patted Venom’s head. They’d agreed it was well past time to get over Anne. Venom was great, but having another person to talk to and be with would be nice.

“SHE LIKED OUR TEETH, WE COULD BITE HER.”

“No.”

“SHE WOULD LIKE IT. SHE SAID SHE WAS A SNACK. WE ARE HUNGRY.”

“Vee, we don’t know what she likes yet. That’s why we are going for drinks tomorrow.”

Venom rumbled, slinking up Eddie’s chest to nuzzle at his neck. Their tongue snaked around Eddie’s ear, teasing him.

“Really? Right now?” Eddie didn’t protest as Venom shifted the tendrils around him, stroking him to full hardness.

“YES. WE WERE THINKING OF NIBBLES AND HER SCENT.”

Venom flooded Eddie with the reminder of just how you reacted to seeing them use their tongue. How your cheeks flushed. The way your heart rate increased, but with no trace of fear. You hadn’t freaked out after they saved you. You held their hand and let them walk you home. Your skin was soft and smelled delicious. They reminded him of how your scent changed from buzzing, nervous excitement to a spark of arousal. 

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie walked up to your cubicle in the office building promptly at 5 pm for drinks after work. He normally wasn’t in the office on Fridays, not that he was ever really here. Mostly he came in on Mondays to discuss weekly agendas and then to walk through articles with the editing team whenever the team was ready. It was an easy job. It meant he had the freedom to investigate and write up reports whenever he wanted. It also made it easier to continue his work with Venom. 

You were wearing massive headphones, dancing in your swivel chair while working through a series of images. Eddie wasn’t even sure if you could see the details in the images with how much you were moving. When your coworker noticed him the pen fell from his mouth. He turned to tap you on your shoulder, eyes still staring at Eddie. You jumped and ripped off the headset like you’d just completely forgotten you were at work. Whatever you were listening to, it had been loud and very obscene from the few lyrics he and Venom could make out.

[DID THE MUSIC JUST SAY THEY WANT TO SUCK OUR TEETH?]

Yeah, it’s just a song though, don’t read into Vee.

[EDDIE. WE WANT THAT.]

Maybe if you ever fucking brushed your teeth.

“What?!”

“Here is you stupid fucking $5,” the coworker pulled the crumpled bill out of his pocket. 

“Hey Eddie,” you smiled up at him from your seat, smoothly taking the money.

“You ready to go?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Give me two secs to close down,” You swiveled back to your monitors and started rapid-fire typing. Flashes of images and documents started to disappear from your screen. How could you be working on so many things at once?

“So Eddie, where are you two going tonight?” the other man asked.

Venom gave a distinct grumble in the back on Eddie’s mind, annoyed by the nosy man.

“We’re going to a bar for drinks, you tit. Why do you never listen to me? I listened to you moan all morning about how small your date’s dick was last night.” You taunted him.

“Because until five seconds ago, I was convinced you were lying.” Tit crossed his arms and rolled back to his own monitors. “Also, like you didn’t fucking demand I show you the dick pics.” 

You snorted.

“You can’t say ‘it was so small a cornichon would have been better’ and just expect me to be done,” You turned off your computer and grabbed your shark bag. 

Jesus. What a fucking conversation to end your workweek on. Eddie just stared, bit bug-eyed at the exchange you’d just had. You had zero shame apparently. That was probably a good thing, when they thought about it. When you stood up, signally you were ready to go, Eddie and Venom stared for a moment, taking stock of your outfit. Without the helmet and ridiculous cycling jacket, you almost looked like a different person. 

You were wearing some kind of black mechanics outfit. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing your vintage style tattoos. Venom particularly liked the look of the thick black lines running across your forearms and up under the sleeves of your suit. You slipped your phone into the breast pocket of the outfit, the weight of it revealing the soft round flesh of your breasts.

“You got a night job workin’ at a garage?” Eddie teased, leading the way out of the office building.

“Eh, I wouldn’t let me anywhere near something with an engine,” you laughed and wrapped a hand around Eddie’s arm.

“Am I gonna regret bringin’ my bike then?” they guided out of the elevator into the lobby.

Richard sat behind the security desk, head resting the helmet Eddie’d left there that morning, watching the video monitors. When he saw the two [THREE] of you, he smirked and raised a hand.

“Hey Rich,” You smiled but didn’t let go of his arm, instead you rested your free hand on the tall counter, fingers running over the glass.

“So this is why you didn’t cycle into the lobby today?” he grinned.

“I could be turning over a new leaf,” you squawked.

“Can we have the helmet now?” Eddie pointed down at the headgear.

“Yeah, if you stop parking your motorcycle where it doesn’t belong,” Richard turned to frown at Eddie but handed over the helmet.

“I’ll think about it. Have a nice weekend.” Eddie smiled at the security guard.

“Tell Margot I hope her first year at school went well, bye Rich,” you waved and followed them outside to his bike. 

Eddie handed you the helmet and pulled the keys from his pocket. Venom purred in the back of his mind. They were excited, just like you were. They also really like how easily you just touched Eddie. You slipped on the helmet and flicked the visor up. 

“Do I look cool, or do I look fucking cool?” You laughed, cheeks a bit smooshed together like a chipmunk. 

“You look pretty fucking cool,” Eddie grinned, mounted the bike, and patted the space behind him. 

You climbed on and scooted around until you were plastered against their back, arms firmly wrapped around his waist. The engine roared to life and Eddie gunned it down the road, weaving in and around traffic. Your excitement and thrill spiked with every turn or whenever Eddie gunned it. Venom let out a pleased rumble at a red light at one point, slipping out of Eddie’s torso and gripping your hand. You hummed, seemingly not noticing Eddie still had both hands on the handlebars.

At the bar, you ordered a large glass of red wine, while Eddie ordered a light beer. Venom didn’t care for the malty taste of other beers. They preferred a more metallic taste. 

Talking with you was easy. Well you seemed to do most of the talking. Anything that seemed to come to your mind you talked about. You asked a lot of questions about Eddie. Why was he here? What did he want in life? What was better, chocolate or sex? You smelled like excitement, red wine, and coconut chapstick. 

[WHY DOES SHE KEEP DOING THAT?]

Doing what?

[NIBBLES KEEPS HOLDING HER DRINK BY THE TOP.]

True, between touching nearly any surface with one hand, your other hand was firmly planted on top of your drink. It was only moved when you took a sip. Were you concerned someone was going to spike your drink?

[WE WOULDN’T DO THAT.] Venom hissed at Eddie.

It’s probably just a habit. 

“You okay?” He asked, eyeing the glass.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry force of habit. They really drill you about drink safety at college and those kinds of things really stick with me,” You gave him your nervous laugh. “I actually saw this thing on Instagram the other day about…”

[WHY DOES SHE KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT DRUGS?]

Have you not been listening?

[WE WERE BUT IT IS VERY CROWDED AND LOUD HERE.]

“Eddie?” You touched his thigh. 

“Sorry, what?” He shook his head and refocused on you.

“I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come back to mine for takeout or something? It’s getting a bit too crazy here for me.” You did the same nervous laugh you did last night. 

Venom’s lizard brain immediately zeroed in on the ‘or something’ part of your question. 

“Yeah, do you like Thai? There’s a really good place near your apartment.” Eddie tried to focus on something other than Venom’s lust.

Fuck, had you noticed? Technically he wasn’t supposed to know where you lived yet. You didn’t know they were Venom.

“I’m down for anything at this point, I could eat a horse,” you grinned and slid the empty glass down the bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t lying about being hungry. With each skillful slurp of noodles, you seemed to only eat faster. They were sitting on your tiny couch that you somehow squeezed into this studio apartment along with a queen-sized bed. That didn't leave much space for anything else, but you’d done quite a lot with the space you had. Beyond the couch and bed, you shoved two bookshelves and a small desk and chair into the room. You had said that despite the rough area, this was one of the only places not in Oakland that offered a private kitchen and bathroom. Eddie hadn’t thought about that in a while, but yeah SF was fucking expensive.    

“But yeah, last night was super weird amazing. I kinda thought the dude was a myth, but then they just appeared out of nowhere.” You chewed your noodles thoughtfully.

“The Demon of San Francisco?”

[VENOM]

“Yeah, Venom. They were cool,” you smiled.

[NIBBLES IS COOL. SHE HAS GOOD TASTE.]

“I know,” Eddie smiled and took the last bite of his own noodles.

“Have you met them?” You asked, excitement buzzing in the air.

“Yeah, more than once,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Do you want dessert?” You asked suddenly.

[YES, YOU.]

“Sure,” Eddie grinned and watched you take the empty containers into your kitchen. 

[EDDIE.]

“What?” He whispered.

[LOOK AT HER SHARK.] 

Venom whipped their head towards your bed. A huge plush shark laid on your bed. Like your backpack, that thing also had a huge set of flappy teeth. Eddie smirked.

“So I’ve raided my stash, and I’ve got snack sized Kit Kats, a pack of dark chocolate Reese’s, or some dark York mint patties.” You walked back into the room with a jar full of candy bars.

[GIVE US THE WHOLE JAR NIBBLES.] 

“The mint ones sound good,” Eddie smiled. 

You set the jar on the floor and folded yourself onto the couch, tucking your legs under you, facing them. You also grabbed a York candy and started unwrapping it. The silver foil crinkled as your fingers ripped the packaging, mimicking another kind of foil ripping. The moment your teeth met the chocolate, your eyes met Eddies’. 

[DO YOU SMELL THAT EDDIE?]

Eddie took a bite of his own candy, feeling Venom taste the dark chocolate. You continued to stare at them. The lust in the air grew. 

[KISS HER.]

Stop.

[PUSSY.]

Shut up.

Eddie had been so caught up in trying to force Venom down, that he’d missed you move across the couch. Venom didn’t miss that though. They took control and crashed Eddie’s lips into yours. You tasted like the candy, sweet and minty, and a bit like peanuts from the Thai food. Their hands wrapped around your hips and pulled you onto Eddie’s lap. Your hands ran through his hair. Venom pulsed under the surface Eddie’s skin, egging him on. 

You were really going for it. Your mouth slanted over Eddies, tongue battling with his for some kind of dominance that Venom refused to let him back down from. Eddie moved one of his hands up your back to caress your neck. At the same time, he pulled you down further onto his lap. You rolled your hips against him, moaning at the friction.  

Venom was getting restless and Eddie felt inclined to agree. They’d be happy to move the current situation a few steps further in the direction of your bed. And apparently so did you. Your hands left Eddie’s neck and ripped the zipper of your jumpsuit down. 

“Fuck,” your arms were caught behind you, trapped in the sleeve. “So much for sexy,” you huffed a little laugh.

“Let us help,” Eddie grinned but kept his hands on your hips.

In truth, they were totally fine with your arms being caught behind you. It meant that your boobs were thrust forward into his face and he could almost taste mesh fabric covering your nipples. Eddie kissed your neck slowly, his tongue traced over your pulse point. 

“Bite me.”

[YES. WANT A NIBBLE.]

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered before he trailed his teeth over back over your neck.

“Yes please,” you grinned and rolled your hips against his again, reminding him of his growing erection.

[EDDIE DO IT. BITE. NOW. OR WE WILL.]

Eddie bit down over your neck. The scent of your arousal spiked. Venom was losing it. Eddie’s control over the symbiote waived and his teeth were replaced with Venom’s sharper ones. They bit you again over your collar bone, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark that would last longer than tonight. You moaned louder than before, which seemed impossible. They could only smell your lust and desire now. 

“Bed,” you demanded, pushing them back into the couch anyway.

“You got it, Nibbles,” They growled, voice deeper and more rough.

Eddie, with the help of Venom, lifted you up off the couch and took the three steps to your bed. You leaned into them, kissing and sucking at their neck. Venom purred in the back of his mind. They turned and fell backwards so you were still on top. Your little giggles filled the apartment at that and you continued to grind against them. Finally Eddie helped out of your jump suit. Your mismatched mesh bra and lace panties were an interesting combo. 

His mouth latched onto one covered nipple, while his hands delved into the waistband of your panties to massage your ass. Your hands scraped at Eddie’s scalp urging him with your moans and rolling hips.

“You’re wearing too many clothes Eddie,” you growled at them, but made no move to stop what he was doing. 

Eventually you pulled him off your body and crawled up to the headboard. Venom nearly ripped Eddie’s shirt with their eagerness to get to you. Eddie threw off the last of his clothes and you bit your lip, staring at him. 

[WE NEED TO TASTE EDDIE. SHE’S FUCKING DRIPPING.]

You’re telling me Vee.

Eddie didn’t need the symbiote to see just how fucking wet you were. You removed all your underwear and beckoned him forward, legs spread. He grabbed hold of your ankles and yanked you closer. You giggled again and he bit your calf. Both of your legs were thrown over Eddie’s shoulder and he began his assault on your core. He nipped and sucked a trail from your inner thigh to your sex. You were a squirming panting mess before he even had his first taste. Venom acted like a caged animal, desperate to at least take over his mouth. Eddie knew if you looked into his eyes all you would see are Venom’s milky whites

Fuck it, Eddie thought. He let Venom’s tongue form over his own. You gasped as their tongue lapped at your soaked pussy. Your hips moved against their mouth, demanding more. Eddie slid one of his hands up to your stomach to stop your writhing, but you grabbed his hand and put it on your breast. Venom flicked their tongue across your clit, while Eddie used his free hand to stroke you into a climax. You nearly came off the bed with the force of it. 

Eddie reeled Venom back in for a moment, sucking your cum off his fingers. 

“Holy… just… wow,” you panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. 

“That good huh?” Eddie teased, kneeling between your legs.

You scrambled to sit up and crushed your lips against Eddie’s. 

“Can’t have you showing me up,” You grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a siren going off or some kind of security alarm. Venom jerked Eddie awake, flushing his system with adrenaline. He struggled to breathe, but shook his head to see where the trouble was. The sun was just starting to rise, peaking through your curtains. It must have been early morning.

“Fuck, shit, sorry,” you groaned awake and rolled across the bed. 

You fumbled to turn off your phone alarm. 

“NIBBLES WHAT THE FUCK?” Venom suddenly erupted over Eddie's chest. 

You screeched and fell off the bed. The phone went off again and you turned it off. Then in all your naked glory, just stared at them. 

“Dudes!” You shouted and pointed at the two of them.

“Shit Venom,” Eddie grabbed the floating noodlehead.

“What the fuck dudes?”

“WE ASKED FIRST,” Venom hissed, eyes narrowing. 

“Sorry, normally on Saturdays I do free senior citizen yoga in the park across the way. I forgot to turn my alarm off,” You ran your hand over your eyes and through your hair. 

Whatever fear you had was gone now. It was from the shock of being shouted at first thing in the morning that must have caused it then. Your once racing heart rate was slow once again. You just smelled of sleepy determination.

Interesting

[WHAT? THE YOGA?]

No, she ain’t scared.

[WHY WOULD NIBBLES BE SCARED OF US?]

You did just jump out of my chest.

“YOU’RE NOT A SENIOR CITIZEN.”

“Yoga classes are expensive,” You half shrugged before picking up your shark plushie and crawling under the covers.

“Aren’t you scared of this?” Eddie shifted his position to lean on his elbow and side. Venom floated around his head.

The shark was pulled over your face, but they didn’t miss your flushed cheeks. A nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth. 

“Aw christ, just don’t look at my internet browser history, okay? It’s not really a first date sort of topic.”

“WE TOLD YOU EDDIE. WE TOLD YOU.” Venom growled, knocking his head against Eddie’s.

“What did you tell Eddie, dude?” You moved the shark away, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“WE KNEW YOU LIKED US. EDDIE WAS BEING A PUSSY.”

“Oh,” You yawned. “What’s not to like? You guys seem cool.”

“C’mere,” Eddie pulled you up against his front.

“Sleep,” you simply murmured, cuddling into his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~

[CHHHOOOOOoooooCCCCcccclllllLLLLLLAAAAAATTEEEEEEEEEEEEEE]

The room smelled of chocolate and maple syrup. There was the gentle sound sizzling butter and coffee dripping. You were making breakfast. Eddie sat up to roll his neck and shoulder. He stretched in the bed before finally standing up. Venom pulled them into the kitchen.

You were wearing those massive headphones again. The tank top you wore was practically see through and the sweatpants looked way too big on you. There was a series of dotted bite marks across your neck from Venom last night, along with a few more subtle hickeys from Eddie.

Dancing along to a song that they couldn’t fully hear, only a low vibrating beat, you flipped a pancake. When you moved away from the stove, Eddie pulled your headphones off as you put the final pancake on the stack. He wrapped his arms around your waist and while Venom wrapped tendrils from his hip to yours, locking you all together. 

“Mornin’,” he hummed. 

“Hey dudes,” You sighed. 

“GOOD MORNING NIBBLES,” Venom appeared to nuzzle at your neck.

“Oh that’s gonna take some getting used to,” You shivered and giggled at the same time. “Well unless this was a one night thing, which is totally acceptable. However I will have to rescind my offer of breakfast. Only nice boys get homemade breakfast.”

“EDDIE BE NICE. WE NEED THOSE PANCAKES.”

“I’m always nice Vee,” Eddie smirked and swayed you gently.

You pulled your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants and turned off your music. It was some song Eddie'd never heard of, not that he listened to much music nowadays. You left your phone and headphones on the kitchen counter, bumping them with your ass to get them to let go. Maple syrup in one hand, pancake stack in the other, you led the way back to the couch.

For while it was just silence. The three of you ate pancakes, Venom with a bit too much vigor, and sipped coffee. 

“Are you two a couple or like just kinky?” 

Eddie choked on his bite of pancake.

“EDDIE IS OUR HOST. WE LOVE HIM.” Venom bobbed up and down.

“Aw, cute,” you cooed.

“Vee and I have a kind of relationship. We aren’t exactly dating.”

“To each kinky fucker their own. I can’t really say shit. I got some impressions yesterday that you weren’t telling me the whole truth. I just assumed you were Venom. Not that you were two people. Like c’mon they’ve got pretty memorable feeling skin or whatever and they did that thing with your teeth and tongue and then you called me Nibbles.” You shrugged, like it was all completely normal.

“And you’re just cool with all this?”

“YOU ARE NOT SCARED.” Venom stated.

“What can I say? Hentai monster fucking porn really does it for me despite all the horribly inaccurate female anatomy.”

[SHOULD WE BE CONCERNED?]

I don’t know...

“Should, uh, that concern us?” Eddie choked out.

“Eh, it should probably register at about the same level as me just being completely fine with a polyamorous relationship,” You shrugged.

“AND EDDIE WAS CONCERNED YOU WOULD FIND US WEIRD,” Venom chuckled. 

The patisserie was rammed. Every seat in the shop was taken up by people. I wasn’t sure what they were thinking suggesting this place for a date. Also this earlier on a Saturday as well. Eddie was not a morning person in the slightest, so why meet after my yoga class? After the first time he experienced my Saturday alarm, he and Venom decided that they would prefer to not stay over on Friday nights, opting to meet up some time on Saturday and staying over until Eddie and I went to work on Monday. It was a cute, effective system for us that had been working for months now. 

I spotted them tucked into a corner. There were two coffee on the table already, but the second chair was missing. Probably taken by some other customers. 

“Hey dudes,” I smiled and set my roll and backpack down.

“Mornin’ babe,” Eddie murmured, still a bit blurry eyed. 

I sat down on Eddie’s lap and picked up my coffee. Venom released a few tendrils to wrap underneath my jacket. I leaned further against Eddie, noting the black earpiece. My tongue darted out quickly, circling the shell of Eddie’s ear and around Venom. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Eddie shuddered.

“GOOD MORNING NIBBLES,” Venom snickered.

I leaned away and grinned. Eddie was so easy to rile up. 

“What do I owe the honor of this early morning date Eddie Brock?” I sipped more of the coffee.  

“Can’t we just take our girl out for breakfast?” Eddie picked up his own mug.

“I see no pastries or cake here my dudes,” I gestured to the empty plate on the table. 

“YOU WERE TAKING TOO LONG,” Venom whined, or as much as the symbiote could whine.

“Well then I do so apologies Vee, but I got caught up in a chat with Mrs Chen about how nice Eddie’s last article was.” 

“At least someone reads them,” Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Back to the point, you are so not a morning person Eddie, I’m surprised you are even functioning enough to order coffee right now,” I smirked.

“We wanted to know if you’d go to IKEA with us. We need to get some new furniture,” Eddie rubbed the top of my thigh.

“Oh how fun, let's spend our Saturday in a crowded maze of arguing couples and screaming babies staring at display units,” sarcasm dripped from my mouth.

“You don’t have to come, Vee and I can go without you and eat a whole Diam Cake ourselves then.” Eddie smiled

“What? No, you can’t do that,” I protested.

“YES WE CAN,” Venom sniggered, knowing my snack addiction rivaled his.

“Can we at least go back to my place first and shower?”

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~

The color combination of royal blue and sunshine yellow made me want to vomit. The uniforms that these people were forced to wear were horrendous. The warehouse smell in this place was also really unpleasant. Eddie claimed we couldn’t have just done this shopping online. That things needed to be measured. He also said it would be nice to go for a drive, and that part was true. It was nice to get to go on drives with my boys. Eddie loved revving the engine and Venom used it as an excuse to wrap the three of us together in public. 

We are walking through the maze, Eddie stopping occasionally to look at the list on his phone. My fingers run over the different textures of the couch cushions to my left. I felt Venom vibrate against my palm, trying to draw my attention. We moved forward slowly, this time into a section of living room display units. I stopped dead right at the entrance of one particular room.

“Oh my god,” I gasped.

“What?” Eddie came up behind me.

“This is the vampire sex dungeon of my dreams,” I laughed, pulling him into the room.

“Vee thinks for a dungeon there aren’t enough chains or torture devices. While I think this is a single middle age vampire who hasn’t been laid in 50 years. I mean who has a fucking Marylin Monroe posters these days?”

“True it is missing the whips and chains, but the potential, it’s all here.” I plopped down on the couch, then grimaced.

“What’s up?”

“Regrets, I have regrets. This couch is sticky,” I waved my hands like that would get rid of the feeling.

“So the sex part of your fantasy for this room apparently happened,” Eddie snickered and pulled me back to my feet.

“Rando sex fluids are not a kink of mine dudes. I need to wash my hand now.” I held out my hands, careful to not touch Eddie or myself.  

Eddie put his hands on my shoulders to ground me, then guided me back to the restrooms. I quickly washed my hands with hot soapy water. Before heading back out I also checked the rest of me, clear thankfully. I trailed one hand over the counter, careful to avoid wet spots, while my other fidgeted with the strap on my backpack. The crowd was starting to get a bit nuts and I swore if that baby was still screaming when we got back to the display units, I was gonna make Venom eat it. 

I didn’t see Eddie when I left the restroom. That was okay. He was probably around here somewhere. I could definitely find him. I stepped up on my tip toes and peered over some of the taller racks of fake plants. Still no sight of him. I called out, somewhat loudly, but hopefully not loudly enough to attract too much attention. Venom should have been able to hear me anyway. I waited for a few more minutes. I checked my phone, but couldn’t get fucking reception in this useless tin hellhole.

After what felt like ages, I took a deep breath and moved forward. I could manage this. I was a strong, independent woman. I was dating the fucking Demon of San Fransico for fuck sake. I could manage fucking IKEA on a Saturday afternoon! I retraced our path back to the display units. There was no sign of Eddie. I called out a few more times, hoping that Venom would hear me, but nothing. I paced in the vampire sex dungeon trying to think of what to do. I could always make an announcement over the loudspeaker thing. Tell the store I’d lost my boyfriend and ask for him to be called to wherever I was. 

A tap on my shoulder made me hurl around fist first. Gray ooze, not too different from Venom’s, caught my hand and formed over it. I felt the pulse around my skin. The man connected to the goo stared at me with interest. When I tried to pull away, the ooze constricted around my hand. 

“Hmm, we heard Venom and Eddie found a new toy. How interesting,” the man studied me, eyes travelling over my body. 

“So, you got one too huh?” I let out a weak nervous laugh, “Your skin feels different though, kinda like metal, which is a bit creepy tbh. Do you do that on purpose? And your silver, not black. Are the others different colours? Or do you only work on a grayscale?”

“Shut up,” he frowned. 

“So are you gonna start a fight here in the middle of fucking IKEA? Or are you gonna take me somewhere? Did you hurt Eddie and Venom? Is that why I couldn’t find them? Pretty smart doing it here I guess. They wouldn’t get all big and there’s no cellphone reception.”  I wheezed a bit, trying to keep my laugh in.

“Do you always talk so much?” the man began to drag me into the back area, out the public display sections. 

Half built units and damaged beyond use furniture littered the area. It must have been some kind of load dock as well. There were huge opened garage doors at the far end. I could maybe make a run for it, but where the fuck were Eddie and Venom?

“Yeah, I talk a lot. Eddie thinks it's cute I guess, I don’t really know. Vee just says they like the sound of my voice cause I don’t irritate them. Though they did get really upset when I ate the last Reese’s cup at my apartment a few weeks ago. But it’s my apartment and my candy. I can eat it if I want. Vee didn’t talk to me for two whole days. He just made Eddie tell me things. Like that I forgot to turn the gas burner off one night. Or that he thought I looked nice this new black top I’d gotten. It was kinda weird. I sent them one of those stupid edible chocolate arrangment thing so Vee would actually talk to me again.”

The man finally stopped trying to yank my arm out of my socket and turned back to me. When he spoke next, his voice was different, rougher, and I saw the blurry off white cover his eyes for a moment.

“Why do you put up with those losers?”

“They aren’t losers, especially not to me. You know we may fight, but I’m not the easiest fucking person to deal with. I mean I’m on the verge of having a fucking melt down right now. I can’t deal with crowds, or weird textures. I obsess over weird shit. I’m surprised they put up with me.” Fear and uncertainty crept into my voice. Why did they put up with me?

The symbiote attached to the man trying to kidnap me took control. They were big, a metallic silver with red raised pulsing veins. Their lips curled cruelly over their razor sharp teeth. I was never scared of Venom’s teeth, but these ones, they really were trying to put the fear of god into me. 

“Not so grayscale then,” I laughed, panicked tears surfacing in my eyes. Everything was becoming too much. “What are you called?”

“We are Riot,” the symbiote rumbled.

My breath hitched, “Nice to meet you I guess.”

“You will make an excellent meal,” their jaw unhinged, it’s metal tendrils on my hand lifted me off the ground. Oh god, I’m gonna be eaten feet first. 

I slammed my eyes shut and I tried not piss myself when I felt a tongue touch my leg. 

“NIBBLES IS OUR SNACK!”

I heard the roar, remembered my body being jerked around, before the world went dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~~o0o~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of steady beeping reminded me of my new alarm. The one I had to learn to use to not bother Eddie or Venom when I woke up for morning yoga or work if I had stayed over at their place. I groaned, my body ached. There was something hard and scratchy in my hand. I didn’t like how that felt, but I couldn’t let it go. When I peeled my eyes open, they were assaulted with harsh artificial lights. 

I was in the hospital. My hand and most of my arm was wrapped up in a cast. That was why it was so scratchy. It wasn’t even a nice colour. In another second, I realised it was my dominant hand. My hand that I used to work and most importantly my hand for touching and snacking. The horrible stupid hospital gown also didn’t feel nice. The material papery and artificial. 

“Hey, you’re awake,” my mom shot forward. 

“Mom, why are you here?” I rubbed my eye with my free hand. 

“Eddie called, said you two were at IKEA with that alien attacked and that you’d been taken to the hospital.” Mom explained. 

“So drove all the way here from Fresno?”

“Of course sweetheart, I’m your mom.” She patted my leg carefully, “Also had to meet this boyfriend. First I hear of him, and you’re in the hospital. Really, I thought I raised you better.”

“I was gonna tell you Mom, just wanted to make sure this guy stuck around first okay?” I groaned.

“He’s real cute,” Mom smiled.

“Where is he?” I looked around, only seeing other empty hospital beds. 

“He went to get some food, said he’d come back cause he knows you won’t eat the hospital food.” She smiled. 

“What exact kinda condition am I in?” I rubbed my hand over the cast. 

“Concussion, a couple of broken bones in your arm and hand, and just generally being a bit beaten up.”

We talked for a while longer, catching up about things in my life, mostly regarding my relationship with Eddie because I was hopeless at keeping my mom informed on the going ons of my life. 

“You really love him don’t you?” She laughed after a particularly rough story about how I once took Eddie to yoga with me. 

“Yeah, I do. Haven’t told him yet, not sure I wanna say it first.” I blushed at the admission to my mom. Sure I’d kinda been feeling it for a few weeks now, but I wasn’t sure when the right time would be to tell Eddie or Venom how I felt. They’d had it rough in love and I didn’t want to push them. 

Soon however, Eddie was stumbling back into the room with a semi angry looking nurse closing the door behind him. My face lit up when I saw him. He was okay, tired looking, but whole. We walked to the otherside of the bed, dragging a chair behind him. The tray attached to my bed was rearranged and Eddie set up an array of my favorite snacks. There were even some of my favorite chocolates left. 

“How ya feelin?” He pressed a kiss on my forehead and sat down. 

“Better,” I grinned.

“Eddie, I thought you were getting dinner, not snacks?” Mom frowned.

“Mom,” I hissed.

Eddie opened a bag of crisps, “Technically these are veggie chips.”

“See vegetables Mom,” I dug my hand freehand into the bag and started eating.  

“You would find someone to enable you,” she huffed. 

“Yeah, yeah, I ate a real meal yesterday.”

“I’m going to get coffee and check out the cafeteria. Tomorrow I will cook both of you animals a real meal,” Mom smirked, rubbed my shoulder, and then left. 

“Jesus christ, both of you come here right now,” I pushed the tray away and sat up further.

Eddie and Venom were on me in a flash. My good arm gripped Eddie like he was my life support. Venom pulled my body further into theirs. I felt my first easy breath since I’d woken up. Venom purred, sensing my relief. 

“Thank you for being here, I know you dudes don’t like it,” I sighed. 

“WE ARE SORRY NIBBLES,” Venom rumbled. 

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Eddie pressed his forehead to mine. 

I laughed, sudden nerves getting the better of me. I ran my hand over his face, feeling the stubble and short hairs at the back on his neck. Eddie and Venom felt right to me.

“I love you, both of you.” I whispered.

“We love you too.”

#a sloth writes #eddie brock #venom #symbrock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x ofc #eddie brock x venom #eddie brock x venom x reader #eddie brock x venom x you #eddie brock x venom x ofc #venom x reader #venom x you #venom x ofc #venom fanfic #venom fic #polyamourous #It's A Match series

[spideyspeaches]

Vibrations per minute ↬ P.P

AN: Based on this post ehehe. (Also 223 followers?! I’m not crying you are ಥ‿ಥ Beta read by my baby sis @parkerpeter24​ <3<3

➳ Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

➳ Warnings: smut (semi public), vibrator, minors dni

➳ WC: 1.8k +

➳ Masterlist || Taglist

Peter Parker was not who he looked to be. He was the kind of guy who impressed parents with his bambi eyes and A+ academic performances, but at the same time, he could be a little shit and tease the fuck out of you. For example-

Bets were a naturally occurring event in the Avengers compound, whether it was between Sam and Bucky about who could eat the most number of marshmallows in one go or between Tony and Peter on who could digest more amount of coffee in the least amount of time (both of which landed them in the medbay). 

So maybe placing a bet with your boyfriend may not have been your most intelligent choice. You were a smart woman, you should have known better than to place a bet with Spider-Man, especially if the bet included cardio. 

And now you were facing the consequences. 

You were sitting in the post mission debriefing room, thighs clenched as you saw your boyfriend trying (and failing) to hide his shit eating smirk. You felt the vibrations inside you once again, a little faster than before. Suppressing a moan, you tried to glare murder at him without letting the others know. 

Puffing your cheeks, you slid down the chair, hands folded on your chest. You were pretty sure your cheeks were blood red with the amount of heat you felt.

"Y/N are you sure you're alright? You look a little flushed." Steve asked, shifting to look at you from where he was besides You. He looked concerned.

"Uh- yeah- yeah I'm good. Just exhausted." You stuttered a response. Huffing, you tried to discreetly rub your stomach from clenching. A little whimper escaped your throat, which you quickly suppressed by picking up the glass of water and chugging down some.

Sam looked at you weirdly, the others not paying attention as Nick Fury asked them questions. 

"Miss Stark if you think you're going to get out of debriefing because your little boyfriend and father are sitting here, you're wrong. Please pay attention" Fury said, looking at you with his pirate eye, before turning around and muttering, "I swear sometimes they behave like school children."

You gave Bucky and Sam a glare as they snickered. 

"I'm sorry, I'll- uhh- I'll pay more attention. I'm just, my tummy hurts." You whimpered, flushing when you realised you had said "tummy" in front of the Avengers. 

"Well you better take care of the tummy ache. Don't want you to poo all over here." Peter smirked, your jaw dropping at how rude the little shit was. How unfortunate would it be when he finds out someone had burnt his Kylo Ren special edition figurine? 

"Fuck you asshat." You seethe, your glare intensifying when he increased the rate of vibrations using the phone app he was holding under the desk.

"Y/N, Peter, enough of this, now listen to what Pirate here has to say before he asks you to skedaddle back to your nursery." Your dad says, rolling his eyes at your childish banter.

You wanted to get out of there. Right away, because you couldn't take the shudders in between your legs anymore, or you would orgasm right there, in front of everyone. 

So to get back at them, you raised your hand like you were in elementary school, asking the teacher for permission, "May I go to the washroom? I wanna poo." You ask innocently, smirking when Fury widened his eyes.

Averting your eyes to your boyfriend, you silently conveyed your message, hoping that he got what you were up to. 

Ignoring the laughter of the babies in the Avengers' bodies, you stood up abruptly before he could change the settings anymore, walking stiffly to the bathroom.

"That was kind of mean of me." Peter finally said when you were out of his vision. 

"Yeah kid, I would've kicked your ass if I didn't know that she would do it before me." Tony snarked, curling his lips and shaking his head before going back to the dossier in front of him.

"You should go and apologise to her Pete. She looked upset." Steve piped in, his disappointed eyebrowsTM showing their way.

"She's in the toilet and he's a horny teenager, you really want him to go right now?" Sam said.

"Ew Sam, get your gutter brain out of here!" Peter defended, not meaning what he said.

In fact he was going to do just that. The entire time during the mission, you had been teasing him one way or another, whether it was landing in certain poses or just touching him every chance you get.

The bet was just an opportunity for him to get back at you for leaving him hot and bothered, dreaming about you all night in that tiny lingerie with spider prints on them.

“Yeah Sam, get out of here.” Natasha joked. Before he could witness the counter arguments though, he left the room, leaving a very noisy meeting room and a very frustrated Nick Fury. 

He found you in the bathroom stalls near the cafeteria. It was the women's bathroom but no one was around this time of the night, so he entered it. 

He could hear your moans and pants, your arousal hitting his nostrils as he tried to hyperfixate on you. His jeans suddenly felt strained at his… web shooter area. 

Opening the bathroom door, he clenched his fists. You were standing there, vibrator out of you and your finger inside, eyes scrunched as you threw your head back, not even noticing him enter.

"Why are you touching yourself?" He growled, smirking innocently when you jerked up, eyes taking a lustful look that sent his blood rushing south. 

"It's your fault. You were the one who made me horny in the middle of those boomers." You gritted. 

Your hand was poised on your waist now, legs still spread apart, your pussy on display. 

Grabbing you by your ass, he picked you up and slammed you against the wall, kissing your jaw, "Just seeking revenge." He mumbled  

"Oh oh Petey- revenge for what?" You moaned, arching your back as he undressed you, grabbing your now unclothed boob and sucking on one nipple, twisting the other with his fingers.

Moaning at the sensation of the cool tiles, you dug your fingers at his back, your wet pussy throbbing for a feel of his dick.

"You did it on purpose didn't you? Showing off during missions?" He sucked at your skin, leaving it tender and brushed, "you know how hot you look while you kick ass?" 

He unbuttoned his pants, letting his dick slip out with his boxers. His length never ceased to amaze you, the thick organ making your mouth water. You imagined it slipping into you, your thighs slipping wider on instinct.

He saw the look you were giving him, his lustful eyes full of mirth and desperation. Without waiting any further, he slipped out a condom from his discarded jeans' pocket, sliding his dick into your wet entrance, your ass hitting the wall as he pushed into your walls. 

Throwing your head back, you hissed as your walls clenched around him.

"You get, you get turned on when I kick ass?" You panted, grabbing his hair in desperation to the coiling in your gut, "Fuck I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna come Pete." 

"Well what are you waiting for princess?" He nibs your ear, squeezing your breasts to his now naked chest. You shuddered at the coolness of his body, he's always been cold to touch. 

"Fuck princess, feel so good." His mouth was slack, his thrusts getting harder as he shoved into you, "so tight for me. Enjoying my cock in your pussy eh?"

"Yes! Oh- I love it Pete I love it!" Hitting your head on his chest, you pinched his nipple, making him groan and hit your stomach, the slapping sound echoing in the bathroom.

"Say it louder pretty girl" 

"Why?" You whined, "I should get back to you for using the vibrator but I'm having too much fun." 

You groaned, Your eyes scrunched when his thrusts started to slow down, his senses too overloaded to work together with his stamina.

"Yeah you're needy aren't you?" He said, out of breath from your little meet. He set you down, wiping off your cum using the tissue paper, flushing it off in the toilet. 

He took a minute to just admire you. Your body was shining from sweat, your breath coming out in short pants. You were completely naked, breasts out to the display. He flushed when you smirked at him, you had caught him staring. Not that you minded.

"My beautiful girl." He said, voice husky from strain as he closed the distance between you both, holding you in his arms. 

You laid your head on his chest, rubbing your cheeks against his pectorals. You could hear his racing heart, chuckling when you saw heat rising up his chest to his neck and then face. 

"Why are you blushing? We literally just fucked." You laughed, tracing circles on his collarbones. He looked ethereal from where you were standing, perfectly sculpted by a skillful sculptor. 

"Because you're amazing and I can't believe you're my girl." He said. 

"Mmhm,” You nodded against him, “Also, do you always keep a condom in your pocket?" 

        __________••☆••__________

There were many reasons as to why you keep around Peter, and one of them is that he's an amazing chef. Living with his aunt and uncle, he and Ben had been the main source of home cooked meals, because Aunt May was never good at cooking. 

You saw him standing in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while he hummed to some melody. You didn't mind, you could stare at him all day. Thankfully, none of the Avengers were awake yet (but they would be. They're huge fans of his food) 

"Morning." You smile, wrapping your hands around his waist, placing your head on his back.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, moving around as you clung to him like a koala. Giggling, you wrapped your legs around his waist, jumping on his back like a potato sack. 

"Mmhm, the best sleep I've had in a long while." You mumble, words muffled by his back.

"Is that so?" He asked. 

"Yup." 

Hearing shuffling noises, you quickly jumped off of him, fixing your t-shirt and sitting on the dining table.

You saw as Steve and Sam entered the kitchen, Natasha soon following suit. Clint had left for his home early that morning, wanting to meet Laura and his kids as soon as he could. 

You smiled at each of them, nodding a good morning and helping them sort a plate. 

You were arranging the plates when you heard a choked gasp. Alarmed at the sound, you looked up at Steve's horrified expression, looking at where he was pointing a finger.

"What?" You asked, biting your lips.

"That- is that a hickey?!?" 

Slapping your neck, you let the plate clatter on the table, ignoring Peter's scrambled replies. You saw Bucky entering from the corner of your eye, unable to formulate a coherent answer.

"Oh my god, Bucky they totally fucked yesterday!" 

Page dividers by @cicicantblog​

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x you #peter parker x stark!daughter #stark!reader #avenger!reader #spideygirl writes

[heymacy]

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

--

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

--

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

#writing prompts #sentence prompts #ficlet #the husband energy is strong with this one #shameless

[dynamoe]

Here, for the first time online, are pages from the Russian edition of MAD MEN: The Illustrated World (2011) I have no idea if it's accurate or the jokes make sense in Russian, but if not you can look at the pictures.

marvel at my big ass American car

By 2010, my illustrations of the TV show MAD MEN had gone kinda viral and then the promotional app MAD MEN YOURSELF had also gone more viral, so an imprint of Penguin Books wanted me to make a Mad Men book to sell by Christmas in the same style. (I think it sold really well, but I never saw any of that money.) The next year it came out in a bunch of different countries— UK and Australia first, then translated into Spanish, German and Russian.

half of Cuban Missile Crisis: The Game!

The Russian edition also had to match all my hand-lettered titles, redrawing them in Cyrillic, which they did impressively.

Unfortunately for me scanning the one copy I have, the binding is really tight so the edges close to the spine disappear into the gutter and blur badly. As Yakov Smirnov would have said (if he was an art director): "IN RUSSIA, THE BLEED CUTS YOU OFF."

#Mad Men #Russian

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Hot Cakes

Pairing: Midoriya (Deku) x reader

Warnings: Slight suggestive content; groping; slight language

Author’s Note:

So for the next two weeks or so, all regular oneshots (aside from DBF) are going to have Izuku in them. This wasn’t really intentional, it just kind of happened, but here you go. This one was my least favorite, so I’m posting it first. It’s short, goofy, kinda nasty, and just really stupid, and I promise I have better stuff for later.

And for safety, I’ll say you’re both in your . . . second year. Yeah. But for reals, this is less suggestive than some of my other stuff soo . . . ?

Whatever, I’m going to stop thinking about it.

Enjoy, I guess?

-Sugar

|     )    )ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)

The two of you were goofing around at your house, attempting to bake cupcakes. Somehow you managed to get everything covered in a fine layer of flour, only broken up by flecks of batter splattered haphazardly on both of your arms and shirts.

You finally slid the last pan into the oven, setting your timer for when to take them out.

"Wow, (Y/N), those smell amazing," Izuku said, leaning back against the counter and inhaling deeply, a dreamy smile crawling over his lips. He turned to a separate batch that was cooling on the counter, leaning over to inspect them. "These cupcakes look perfect!"

Wound up from the last half hour of joking around and flirting, your eyes flicked down to his pants. Damn, he was fine, and you smirked at the idea of letting him know it.

"There are some other perfect cakes I'm thinking about," you said, sidling up next to him with a flirtatious glint in your eyes.

"Huh?" Izuku asked, not catching on.

In a sudden spike of adrenaline, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and landed a good smack over his behind. It was in no way harsh, but you had purposely cupped your hand so it would make the most satisfyingly loud noise possible.

The green-haired boy suddenly straightened in surprise, his eyes growing wide with shock. He finally roved his gaze back toward you, green irises meeting yours. His face went completely red, complimenting his high tops well, as the realization of what you'd done sank over the both of you.

He swallowed, trying to process your advance. "You—y-y-you, um—just—"

Your face heated with a blush of your own, and you had to fight to keep yourself from panicking. "I-I'm sorry!" you finally said, attempting to hide your burning face in your hands. "I went too far—"

"No."

You peeked out at your boyfriend from between your fingers, not sure if you'd heard him correctly. "What?"

His blush deepened even further, averting his eyes from yours. "Would it be weird if I kinda wanted you to . . . do it again?"

You finally lowered your hands from your face, and Deku suddenly snorted with laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"What?" you asked again, still trying to get over your embarrassment from before.

"You've got a little—there's ah,—" he stopped, bursting out into full-on giggles now.

You frowned, bending towards him in hopes to gain his attention. "What is it?" you asked, still oblivious to why Izuku was cracking up.

"Your hands," he finally said. "They had flour on them. And now it's all over your face!"

You reached two fingers up and experimentally dragged them over your cheek, finding that he was, in fact, correct. A slightly grainy film was dusted upon you, and you must have looked like an idiot.

You burst out laughing too, your face still warmed with mirth blended with leftover embarrassment.

A thought made you choke, pausing in your moment of joy. "Hold up," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Turn around."

Deku lifted a green brow at you, suspicious, but finally complied.

A completely new wave of laughter crashed over you, your legs almost weak with how much of it you were experiencing.

"What?" Izuku asked, trying to turn his head so he could see you.

A white handprint laid solidly on his posterior, vividly contrasting his dark wash jeans.

"Um," you said, trying to catch your breath, "I think I'm going to have to clean you up before you go home, because there's evidence that my hand was on your ass."

"Oh, crap, really?" Izuku blushed again, but he still kept himself positioned so you had a nice view of it.

You whipped out your phone and took a picture of the offending print, showing your accidental art to Izuku. He laughed and grabbed your phone, going to your messaging app so he could send it to himself.

You bent over and started brushing him off, watching as the flour only lightened and smeared around more. At least now you might be able to say he had just backed up into a flour-covered counter, but it also kinda looked like you'd went crazy on him. Maybe that was just your mind leaping into a gutter at the context of the situation.

You also couldn't help but notice that he'd changed his breathing as you ran your hands over him, even though your motions had no double meaning behind them. You experimentally poked a finger at his cheek, watching as it slightly sunk in before stopping at hard muscle. You glanced up for a response, noticing how his face had stilled and he subtly rocked back towards you.

"Not gonna lie," you murmured just loud enough for him to hear, glancing back down, "you really do have a nice mass up in here."

Izuku locked your phone and set it on the counter beside him, keeping his eyes on you. "You . . . like it?"

You blushed and nodded, giving him a gentle squeeze.

He gulped, unsure of what to say. "I'm . . . glad you do."

Both of you resembled tomatoes while you stood there in silence, him letting you softly grope him in a slight daze. It wasn't as though you'd never wanted to do this before, it was just that it was never at a good time. And besides, the two of you were quite shy when it came to public affection in your relationship, opting for long hugs and brief, sweet kisses in the comfort of being together behind a closed door. But now you finally had the chance to live out your fantasy, your mind focused on his ample hindquarters.

A beeping sound made the both of you jump and you straightened, taking your hands back to your sides. "That would mean the cakes are done!" you said, maybe a little too high pitched. "The cupcakes, that is. You—um . . . hi. Pardon me."

He practically leaped out of the way, letting you get into your kitchen drawer to find your trusty oven mit. You walked back to the oven and pulled out the pan, setting them on a cooling rack on the counter.

"They're done," you ruled after poking them with a toothpick and seeing it come out clean. You moved your hand to hover over the first set, checking their temperature. "These are still too hot to ice yet. We're going to have to wait another five minutes or so."

You suddenly felt a large hand hesitantly press itself against your lower cheek, gently massaging the soft and malleable flesh beneath it. You involuntarily pushed back, savoring the feeling of each finger sink into your plush clothed skin.

"While we wait," Izuku's shaky warm breath tickled the back of your ear as he shuffled closer, "I believe I have a bit of a favor to repay."

|     )   )ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)

Author’s Note: 

Oop—

This was really stupid and I don’t love it. Sorry for messing up our pure, innocent green bean.

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sokkasangel​ @xoxopam4​​

#izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #deku #izuku midoriya bnha #midoriya izuku bnha #deku bnha #izuku midoriya imagine #deku imagine #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reader insert #sugar fics

[manananggal]

I Wish I Had A Better Excuse, Like...

a/n: i read high tide at midnight again and i’m just - woof woof bark bark. beata is my trese oc. she’s an aswang raised by a hilot. stuff happened, and she becomes part of the diabolical crew. this is written mostly in english, but has a few tagalog phrases especially near the end. obviously i have no idea how to write fight scenes.

 ///

Beata is a bit nervous about today's spar.

Alexandra – well, considering that she practically took her in after the Incident™, that makes Alex her Bossing too, doesn't it? – informed her a few days ago that her Kuya would be joining them for training. Bossing didn't exactly say who, but it's not as if there's anyone else who'd join them.

She was still sort of hoping that it would be Sir Rick who'd be there - not that he ever joined them, but a girl can hope, can’t she? But when Beata saw the strong, looming figure in a salakót by the entrance of the gym, she couldn't help but be glad she brought the new sports bra she got from Valentina's Secret. It’s comfy, and she was only able to afford one because of a sale. It's powder-blue in color, with a sweetheart neckline that pushes her girls in the spotlight without the risk of them spilling out. 

She checks herself out in the ladies' room mirror and bites her lip. 

While her outfit looks great on her, like - instant boob job, because they look like  decent B-cup right now, and if she-saw-her-picture-in-a-dating-app-she'd-immediately-Swipe Right™, a knot of worry formed in the pit of her stomach.

There’s a voice at the back of her head that sounded like a mix of her mother and Sister Johanna from high school asking her just what the hell she thinks she’s doing. 

It’s effective enough to make her trudge back to her locker and dig through the bottom of her bag for a white, threadbare shirt which she tugs over her head right away.

"How the hell does Wari do that?" She grumbles, standing in front of the mirror again. Her reflection did nothing but throw her disgruntled expression right back. 

She could always ask Wari for tips, of course. But the Encanto would want to know why, and Beata doubts it will take her that long to figure out what's up, and it's not like she needed any more people on her case. With a sigh, Beata heads out, letting the wooden door swing behind her.

--

Carlos Trese, sans his usual salakot and armor, meets her near the center of the sparring mat. He's traded the usual maong for dark sweatpants, but the white camisa chino remained. His head is newly shaved, save for the close-cropped patch that emphasized the sharp widow's peak that everyone in the Trese clan seems to have.

The two of them gave each other the customary bow, an acknowledgment and a promise that neither is out to genuinely hurt the other. No claws and no weapons, but it doesn't mean that Carlos would be less than terrifying.

Beata exhales slowly as she slides into the first stance; her right leg in front of the other and bent slightly at the knees while her right arm extends forward as the left is positioned close to her chest, bent at the elbow, both palms facing the opponent.

Basilio yelling, "Kick his ass, Bibi!" from the sidelines didn't help settle her nerves. She stomped down the urge to stick her tongue out at him and kept her focus at her sparring partner.

She never expected Carlos to go easy on her, but what she didn't expect was him charging towards her right off the bat, and Beata yelps in surprise, barely able to block the oncoming punch. She takes a backward step as her left forearm deflects the hit. She could already feel the bruise forming, but Carlos left his chest unguarded – it could be a trap, or he could easily block any incoming hit, but Beata knows she's just fast enough to land one, and so she took the risk.

Beata was able to push Carlos backward as her right palm rushed forward, striking him flat on the chest.

"Nice, Beata." He says with a curt nod. "That was good."

Her eyes flickered to his face, and she was granted one of his rare smiles. It gave him a rather boyish look, less menacing and closer to the impish grins the Kambal would have on their faces.

And her heart decides it's a good time to speed up, to rattle inside her ribcage, and she knows,  she knows it's not because of the spar. Because if it was, then Beata wouldn't have the fluttering, jittery feeling in her gut now, would she?

It was mortifying, this silly, little torch she holds for the eldest Trese sibling. It started on the day he saved her from a gang of aswang. They needed her blood for some ritual. She was too out of it to remember, and not even Alex's spell helped her recall anything except for the flash of the Verdugo's blades and the pained shrieks of her captors.

In her foggy, half-delirious state, the warmth of his skin that seeped through his clothes was her beacon, and she remembered the way his voice reverberated through his body as he told her to hold on. She found out later that he carried her on his back, away from the rundown townhouse in Wack-Wack that served as her prison for a few days.

She'd been waitressing at the Diabolical for a month when he returned, and Alex – well, Bossing – introduced the two of them formally. Carlos Trese asked how she was doing as he shook her hand.

The contact lasted no more than ten seconds, but the feeling of how much bigger and warmer and more calloused his hand was compared to hers stayed long after he left.

Beata made the mistake of asking the worst person about Carlos. She was a few bottles in, with her head buzzing slightly, and the conversation flowed freely between her and the kambal.

It had been a casual question: 'Do you guys know if Carlos is seeing anyone?'

But those nine words were the beginning of the end, and she watched, like it was in slow motion, as the smile in Basilio's face stretched into a grin.

He, of course, told Hannah, who told Amie, who told someone else, and the news made its way to Hank. Beata's not sure who told Alexandra, but bossing knows everything that happens in her club.

"Ayos ka lang?" Carlos asks, a crease forming in the middle of his forehead.

She could only nod as it felt like something lodged itself down her throat.

--

The two of them have been at it for fifteen minutes, maybe more. It was a dance, a flurry of kicks and punches and dodges - 

She thought she'd been doing a pretty decent job holding her own against the force of nature that is Carlos Trese – she blocks, and she counters when needed, slips in a hit or two of her own whenever she sees a sliver of a chance. She is just bold enough to drive a spear-hand strike at his torso, one he was able to swiftly block and sends a countering side-elbow strike against her face. It made her leap backward, earning her a nod from him.

But he's not the Verdugo for nothing.

Beata was able to dodge the knee-strike he aimed at her middle section, but in doing so, missed the knife-hand strike headed at the side of her jaw.

Against her better judgment, the young woman froze, wrenching her eyes shut as she anticipated the oncoming strike.

But it's been a few seconds, and the pain hasn't registered. There was, however, a feeling of warmth on the side of her face. Ever so slowly, Beata opened one eye, daring to look up at her sparring partner, only to see him staring down at her with an expression she couldn't quite place and his fingers hovering just beside her temple.

"That would have been a lethal hit," He comments as he withdraws his hand. "Don't let your guard down easily, Beata."

Beata, the paragon of articulate speech that she is, could only manage a strangled sound that she hoped sounded affirmative. She knows her face is as red as a tomato, but it's not just because of the spar. Carlos wasn't wrong though, had it been a real fight, she wouldn't have to worry about her skincare routine anymore.

She slipped back into an offensive stance before launching herself at him.

--

Someone called for a break, and Beata, despite her endurance, was grateful as she all but dragged herself to the other side of the gym. She slumped on the bench, trying to catch her breath. Already, there is a dull throb that formed at the base of her neck. She presses her fingers against the sore spot, hoping that she still has Salonpas left in her drawer.

As she cooled down, she let her eyes wander to the only other people inside the gym.

She watched Alexandra walk a bit ways off, talking to someone on her phone.

She watched the Kambal, both dashing even in cotton shirts and jogging pants, goof off with each other. Basilio trying to do a fucking Jyuken stance is funny enough to pull a giggle from her. Even funnier was Crispin barking out corrections on how to do the pose right .

A few feet away from them, Carlos Trese's shoulders shook as he laughed. Who knows when was the last time he was able to just sit without having to worry about the next monster coming at him?

She thought she'd already calmed down until Carlos stood up and lifts up the bottom of his sleeveless shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

Beata froze; the rim of her tumbler is just barely grazing her lips. She blinks a few times as what seemed to be a high-pitched, ear-splitting wail of a siren echoed inside her head.

She averts her eyes because she has dignity, dammit. She's not gonna gawk at him like a voyeur; she's definitely not gonna burn this image in her mind's eye and save this once she’s alone.

And he removes his shirt. Completely. Because she's not stressed enough as it is.

She's definitely  not  looking at him, or his chest, or his equally broad shoulders, or –  Oh. Of course, he's got a six-pack, damn it all  – or his biceps, or how his faded scars contrasted against the brown of his skin. His sweatpants hung low on his waist, and her eyes seemed to fixate at the gutters of his hips.

It's definitely not the reason why her heart starts pounding heavily or why her throat seems to suddenly run out of moisture when her tumbler is already half-empty.

"Alam mo, this is creepy, even for you." A voice pipes up beside her, making the young mananaggal jump from her seat. Had she lathered herself with lana, her wings would have sprouted, leaving her upper body in the air and her lower half losing balance, comedically toppling on the floor, spilling her guts in a literal sense.

Beata's head whips to the side. The grin on Basilio's face, eerily enough, matched the one on his bone-while mask. She'd been too caught up… well, looking, she hadn't noticed her friend pop up beside her. How long had he been there?

"How is me drinking water creepy?" Beata counters in a well-rehearsed deadpan. She doesn't need to be reminded how weird it is. She's fully aware, thank you very much.

Basilio chuckles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Beata tries to scooch away in her seat, but his reach is way too long to be avoided. "You could just go for it and ask Kuya to stay for dinner, Bibi." He had the guts to actually wag his eyebrows at her.

"Ugh, Crispin?" She made a show of scoffing. "If what that girl from the wind tribe said is true, salamat na lang,"

"Bibi, you know I'm not talking about –  wait – what did she say about him?"

"Wala," Beata grimaces as she pushes away from the long-haired twin. "Also, couldn't you wipe yourself off bago ka mang-asar? Manghahawa ka pa ng lagkit, kadiri amp,”

Finally getting the message, Basilio himself scooted a good few inches away, letting her out of his grip.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he ran a hand against his other arm, muttering, "I'm not even that sweaty," to himself.

Beata rolls her eyes. Sometimes, it's really hard to imagine how the underworld trembles at the mere mention of The Kambal.

"Hoy teka – don't change the subject!" Basilio says, raising one hand to give her a light chop on the top of her head.

"Aray!" She glares at him. "Parang gago naman 'to eh! What was that for?!"

"Beata, just talk to Carlos," Basilio says seriously, the way he does when he's imitating his older brother. "I'm getting tired of you giving him puppy-dog eyes every time you see him –"

"I'm not –" She objects, glowering.

"– or you completely stuttering when he's near –"

"H-hindi kami close!"

"– or you suddenly disappearing into the kitchen when he's at the bar –"

"I was needed there!"

"– And you haven't actually spoken with him, have you?"

"I-I've talked to him!"

"Yeah. Once."

"Point still stands that I was able to hold a conversation,"

"Telling him that Bossing isn't at the club doesn't count as a conversation, Bibi-girl." He winks.

"Sure, it does. He even said thank you before leaving," She insists. "And I sparred against him today. So… so there."

"Well, you wore that new sports bra for him, and he didn’t notice,"

Her mouth fell open. "H-huy, gago, hindi!"

Basilio's eyes widened at how squeaky her voice came out. "I was teasing! Oh shit, you really did, didn't you?"

"Oh, my God," She groans, burying her face in her hands. "I hate you so much,"

Beside her, he all but exploded with laughter, and Beata was so, so tempted to see if his regeneration abilities could keep up if she started to rip out his arms just before the next one grows.

"Don't worry, Bibi. I won't tell,"

"Sure you won't."

"I mean, you never wear that when you're up against Kuya and me,"

"Shut it, Basilio," She moaned, face still hidden.

He touched his shoulder to hers. "Yiie, dalaga na siya..."

"Para kang gago,"

"He's got big feet…" He goes on.

"No, Basilio. Just... no."

"And you know what they say about men who've got big feet." A pause, and then. "I mean, I would know…"

"Isa pa, ha. Pag 'di ka talaga tumigil, sinasabi ko sa ‘yo... ”

Basilio's laugh echoes throughout the gym.

#Trese #trese fanfic #trese oc #fic tag: Tuliro #oc tag: beata maria

[earnmysong]

won’t you pick the pieces up (don’t let me keep on walking on broken glass) [for my dearest @pasmonblog​! an entirely overboard fulfillment of winterwitch; kiss by a campfire; *vague references to wandavision, the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier, and schitt’s creek*]

Part II of my Wanda-centric series i’ll have a cup of tea (and tell you of my dreaming)

and what if i could live like this - but not forever and what if you could move the needle to a more forgiving song and what if this was never really broken all along but - for tonight - i'm sleeping with my television on

television | jack's mannequin

...

There's a story here, there’s always a story. This story starts with the good doctor’s helpful suggestion that a machine that cycles through soothing sounds might help with the nightmares. You know, the ones Bucky doesn’t have? Actually, she recommends an app he can download, but his phone needs to age a couple decades to be able to support the damn thing.

He's standing at the check-out of Atlantic Avenue’s Best Buy with three different types, already planning to chuck every single one in the garbage. A tropical rainforest is going to work miracles that the city’s constantly blaring siren soundtrack can’t? 

A hand reaches from behind to tap one of his boxes, as a pleasant lilt he can almost place warns: ‘If you leave this running all night, it dies after a week.’

‘Thanks. You use either of these?’ He turns, holding the two that are still contenders out to his informant. And grinning like an idiot because he recognizes her. Her hair and her affect are both less fiery than they’d been when he’d met her in Wakanda - her messy bun’s edging toward brown and her eyes have painful memories crammed behind them. But her expression’s warm, slightly guilty, when she shakes her head. 

‘I have this’ - Wanda touches number two - ‘but it’s still in the box.’ He wants to ask if she’s okay, if there’s an ass that needs kicking – not that he’s supposed to engage in that extracurricular anymore, and she sure as shit can take care of herself; he’s caught the news coverage, though – but she keeps going. ‘My therapist tells me this only hinders my recovery, but - ’ She shrugs, passes him a plastic case with what looks like a family and a misspelled curse on its front ‘- I love it. It’s comforting.’

‘Has to work better than whatever crap I was about to buy.’

‘I think so. You're welcome to judge for yourself. I’m happy to start at the beginning again.’

They trade numbers on the sidewalk out front, he brings lattes to her apartment two nights later, and David drives out of town in Roland’s truck as the sun rises.

…

Wanda's totally right, the doc lectures him about media immersion simply blocking his negative thoughts rather than eliminating them. He smiles serenely at her, says ‘But I have two whole friends now! Aren’t you excited?’ and leaves Wanda a voicemail on his walk home: ‘Whenever we do season two, food’s on me. Mental health should not, actually, be entertainment-dependent and Raynor’s not any happier about our combined coping skills than your guy.’

He knows she’s got class at Fordham until seven-thirty, but she’ll call when she gets out.

…

They finish the series right as the semester’s ending. 

He hen-pecks his way through Wanda’s dictation of the final paragraph of her unit plan for her Educational Methods class. 

[She'd started crying so hard at David’s ‘I am continuously impressed by you’ compliment to Alexis that there was no way in hell she could see her screen and he’d been afraid her laptop might end up with water damage, erasing all of her efforts in a flash.]

Once she’s hiccupped one last citation at him and he’s saved her paper in four different places, he glances over at her. ‘The doc’s still bugging me about finding more sustainable sleep aids. She fails to understand the medicinal properties of the Rose family. And I basically filibustered her ass on the subject last week. Nothing.’ Wanda laughs through her tears. ‘Anyway. I'm thinking of trying out the up close and personal version of ambient noise. You want to come camping this weekend?’

Wanda’s nose scrunches in disgust and her head slides from side to side, answering for her on its own. But what she offers next is a surprise: ‘I'm only coming because you can’t afford to lose any other limbs, and I can’t say that won’t happen if you’re alone.’

‘We’ll start another show as soon as we get back,’ he promises.

…

Camping blows. 

Which, judging by Wanda’s expression underneath her soggy hood, is a secret that she really wants to let him in on. Like he isn’t already fully aware. 

The fire’s somehow soldiering on despite the downpour, but they’ve got maybe five minutes before it gutters. ‘Should we admit defeat? Stay city couch commandos forever?’ 

Wanda’s entire being lights up at his suggestion, and she’d probably take flight right now if he wasn’t around. ‘Thank you’ she says instead, leaning over to frame his face between her wet palms and pressing her mouth to his. 

‘Molniya, if you were dying to go home that badly, all you had to do was say so. I can take a hint,” he tells her after they’ve spent several minutes otherwise occupied.

‘That, sir - ’ she smirks ‘ - was for everything but this brilliant disaster of yours.’

And she might levitate a little on the way to the car. 

Also on AO3: HERE!

#myfic #MCU #mcu fic #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #wanda x bucky #otp: my waves meet your shore #winterwitch #winterwitch fic #headcanon #affinities - i have them! #faces colliding! #winterwitch moodboard #moodboard #my edit #for #pasmonblog #NATurally fantastic