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kennedybaby · 1 year

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TIPSY ~ LEON S. KENNEDY

Summary: Fucking a bartender in the back seat of his car was the last thing Leon had in mind after successfully retrieving Ashley back to safety.

Word count: 4.495k / Warning: Mild dubcon because Leon is tipsy. Anything is just pure filth.

Pairing: Post Re4 Remake! Leon S. Kennedy X Fem! Bartender! Reader.

Author note: got horny and accidentally vomit out 4k words of leon fucking you. sorry, it's just the girl tendencies in me. read the tags to know what to expect!!! 🤍

mature contents below the cut. mdni.

Leon needed some sort of a quick stress reliever.

His knuckles gradually turned white as he tightly gripped his steering wheel. His chin leaning on his other hand, the faint buzzing noise from the radio accompanied by his soft breathing was the only company he had. Leon had debated with himself, a part of him missed his bed like crazy, all he wanted to do was bury his body between the soft cushions and dozed off into a long, serene slumber. But a part of him itches for something. He needed a drink, anything to get that surge of dopamine in his body. Need the familiar bile taste to settle in his mouth as he chugs it down his throat, letting it burn his chest.

Leon Scott Kennedy needs some alcohol in his system. Desperately.

Running his gloved fingers thru his damp hair, Leon let out a soft chuckle upon seeing a bar from afar, almost as if his desperate plea was answered by God himself. Its neon sign flashing OPEN 24/7 in bright red LED lights, he could see a few drunkards already passing out on the sidewalk, holding onto their beer bottles before he parked his car around the corner. Putting his car keys in his pocket, Leon budged open the door of the bar, greeted by the sound of the bell atop the door chimes. The heavy scent of tobacco, hard liquor and sweat was evident as it clings to the air— not to mention the odour of sex grows stronger and pungent as he goes even deeper into the crowds to reach the counter.

Leon finds himself a seat on one of the stools, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips before the feeling of someone standing over him crept onto him. He lifted his face, sparing a small, tired smile at you as you returned with a polite one.

‘Cute,’ He thought.

“You look tired, want me to fix you up with something?” You raised your voice a little, making sure he can hear you amid the blasting music as you leaned closer to him, Leon got a slight whiff of your refreshing, floral perfume. It was pleasant, a stark contrast from the stench that the bar seemed to be festering with. You were pretty, clad in a black blouse with your sleeves rolled to your elbow, a beige apron wrapping around your waist as you pressed your hands on the counter with a bright smile on your face.

“Just a shot of Vodka, please,” Leon replied, his eyes remaining trained on your face. You give his request a firm nod, turning your back to Leon as he watches you step on a stool before reaching for the bottle of Vodka on the top shelf.

“Need some help there?” Leon teased, a soft chuckle emitted from him as you rolled your eyes teasingly. “Thanks, but no thanks.” You replied to him, getting off the stool before you turned to face him again.

Putting the shot glass in front of him before you pour the Vodka in, making sure not to overflow the shot glass. “Thank you, pretty girl.” He whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower before you flash him a grin, your cheeks heating up before you remain your composure.

“Anytime, handsome.”

Sure, you’ve been flirted by your customers before. Mostly by married older men who're too drunk to even form a proper sentence, easing you into coming back home with them and they’ll show you a great time. You wouldn’t be too phased with it, assuming it was just the liquor talking— but this? This was different.

Somehow hearing this attractive man you have never seen before calling you a pretty girl sent heat coursing up your cheeks. Maybe it’s his looks or his voice, or the fact that you hadn’t been able to fuck for weeks since you were too busy with bartending and college classes hence you being fairly sexually frustrated but you paid extra attention to him.

Not that he’s complaining, Leon’s not the type to turn a lady’s attention away from him.

“You’re new here?” You strike up a conversation with him which is something you would normally avoid to do so. Leon smirked at you, chugging down the Vodka shot in one go before he let out a sharp breath. His eyes met back to yours before he cocked his head to the side, “Yeah, just wanted to find somewhere to rest, past weeks have been crazy.” He replied, his eyes shifted to the empty shot. “I might be here for a while, mind keeping a tab for me?” Leon poured himself another shot, his finger grazing around the rim of the shot glass before looking up into your eyes.

“Aren’t you too young to be bartending?"

“What are you a cop or something?” You raised your eyebrow with a teasing smile on your lips, jotting down his tab before pushing it to the side. A chuckle left his lips before Leon speaks again, “Eh, kind of. So how old are you?"

“21. No breaking laws here, officer.” Slightly raising both of your hands in the air jokingly, Leon grinned at your antics, chugging his second shot of Vodka.

“No worries, pretty girl. But why here, though? Why work in a bar?”

“It pays me well plus I needed some quick cash. My dad isn’t too keen on giving me some money so here I am.” You said, pouring him his third shot of Vodka as he smiled at you.

“How come?”

“Let’s just say he's not the nicest.” You shrugged, watching as his adam apple's bobs every time he chugged the Vodka shot down his throat. His pale cheeks already began to redden up a little, adoring his porcelain skin with a pink tint. Leon extended his hand to you and you happily accepted it, giving him a firm handshake before you exchanged introductions with each other.

“Leon Kennedy. And you are?”

“[Y/N] [L/N].”

The two of you converse for hours, pouring him shot after shot and with every shot he takes, Leon would flirt with you. He’s still pretty sober despite the high intake of Vodka shots, he seems pretty calm in his seat— occasionally winking at you when you’re serving other customers and throwing cheesy pick-up lines between the conversation.

Leon can’t lie but finds himself attracted to you, ordering more and more drinks in hopes of keeping your attention on him. He loves the way you blushed at the slightest contact of his hands or the way you would look at him back with a twinge of desire circling behind those eyes of yours. Fuck, you’re too hot for him to be this tipsy.

Once in a while when you were talking, his eyes would shift down to your lips, cock straining against his pants as you licked your lips and looked up to him with that evident obliviousness plastered all over your pretty face to his impure thoughts.

“Your total is 200 dollars. Cash or card?” You smiled at him, handing him the tab you had for him with a card reader in your other hand. Leon ran his card swiftly on the card reader before he put them back into his wallet and stuffed them back into his pocket. Shifting your eyes to the clock, a hint of disappointment could be seen on your face before you quickly muster a small smile for Leon.

“It’s already twelve? Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Leon." Untying the beige apron around your waist, you placed it on the lower counter. Leon was quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist to stop you in your tracks.

“I can give you a ride back home if you want.”

You can definitely say this was a different type of a ride back home.

“Your lips taste so fucking sweet."

Straddling his hips with your thighs wrapped around his waist at the backseat, Leon has his arm around your waist. His other hand cupped the right side of your face, circling his thumb on your cheek as you intertwined your lips with him. His tongue goes past your slick lips as his hand guides your head to tilt a little to deepen the heated kiss. Leon breaks away from the kiss, leaning his head back on the car seat as you look at him with a dazed smile.

“Shit, this is insane.” He muttered, his fingers running thru his dirty blonde hair. “What’s so insane about this?” You softly replied, your lips finding their way back to him as he happily reciprocated, kissing you back with his tongue swirling with yours. His hand on your cheek moved to the back of your head, keeping your lips locked with his as you moaned into the kiss. Pulling away from the kiss for air, Leon strokes your hair as he runs his fingers thru your locks.

“Never really made out with a girl prior after knowing her for a couple of hours." Leon chuckled, his head slightly tilted as he looked back into your eyes with a half-lidded stare. He can feel the heat radiating from your cunt and God knows how much of the effect you had on him. “Well, I don’t usually accept a ride back home from a stranger but here we are.”

“It’s a first for the two of us then.” He grinned, a devilish smirk playing on his lips before his hand removed his hand from the back of your head. Unwrapping his arm around your waist, Leon moved both of his hands and settled them on your hips. His thumb makes a circular motion on the surface of your stomach as hummed with satisfaction. “You can do more than that, can you, officer?"

Right. You don't even know what he actually works as. That’s how little you two know of each other and yet his bodies and yours slotted perfectly like two pieces of puzzles. As if the two of you had known each other forever. Leon preferred the anonymity between the two of them.

“You’re going to make me lose control if you keep calling me that," Leon chuckled, the sound of his husky voice ringing in your ears. You noticed how your lipgloss was all over his lips, the beautiful pink sheen smeared on his lips down to his chin. “What should I call you then? Daddy?”

Leon let out a groan, his smile widening at the way your voice sounded when you rolled the word daddy off the tip of your tongue smoothly— you’re can’t be teasing him when he’s this horny and tipsy. He can't even think properly, too fixated on the positions he can put you in at the back seat of his car, clouding his mind with endless indecent imagination. He swallowed thickly, looking back at your eyes as you bit your lower lip back at him and flashed him a playful smile. “Say it again.”

“Daddy.” You breathed out, eyes shooting wide when his fingers brushed against your collarbone as he pried your blouse open, sending the buttons of your blouse to fly everywhere. Your body tensed up from the sudden action, his warm breath hitting against your skin as he kissed your collarbone and stopped between your chest. “Yeah, call me that.”

“Gladly.” Pulling away from your chest, he leaned in closer to your face, pulling your face into his as he smashed his lips on yours— engaging you into a messy, sloppy kiss. His tongue forcefully parted your pursed lips, exploring every corner of your mouth as you let out a pathetic whine when he pulled away. “God, you’re so needy. My needy little girl,” You can feel the ache between your thighs building up when he called you a little girl. Your cunt throbbed against the thin fabric of your cotton panties as he slipped his hand down your pencil skirt, his index finger teasing the pulsing little clit thru the fabric of your panties in a circular motion as he softly chuckled when you began to squirm in his grasp.

“You're already so wet. You’re excited for daddy to fuck you stupid?” He whispered into your ear, shooting shivers down your spine as you nodded at his question. “Let me hear your voice, pretty girl.” Leon landed a firm spank on your ass, sending your back straight as your fingers cling to his black T-Shirt. “I-I am excited...”

“There's my good girl. Open your mouth for me.” You obeyed him, parting your lips before he stuck the same index and middle finger he teased your clit earlier. “Get it nice and wet for your pussy, baby.” Leon smiled, occasionally letting out a grunt as the warmth of your mouth and your hot tongue wrapped around his digits.

All Leon could do is wish it was his cock you were sucking, taking every inch of his shaft down your throat. He wanted to see the outline of his cock on your throat, fucking your mouth while his balls slapped against your chin as he leaves you breathless. But for now, he’d settle with fingering your pretty pussy open.

“You’re so cute sucking my fingers like that,” He breathed out, pulling his fingers out from your mouth as it let out a small pop. “Thank you, daddy.” You shyly muttered, cheeks heating up upon feeling his cock twitching in his pants and grazing against your clothed sex.

“Spread your legs up a little for daddy, baby.” Your knees dug into the cushion of his car seat as you leaned your body on his front seat. His hands helped you roll your skirt up to your pelvis. Your fingers reach down to push your panties aside, spreading the lips apart as his breath hitches. Leon mumbled a curse, his pants getting tighter and tighter by each time as he salivates over the sight of your sopping cunt.

“All this pretty pussy just for me?” You nodded at his question in which he slipped back his hand between your thighs. Leon removed the gloves from his hands before throwing them to the front seat.

“S’all for you,” Your words were slurred from fixating on the ache between your legs so much. He grinned upon hearing your answer, inserting two digits past the tight muscles as your body shuddered in pleasure. His thumb makes its way to your clit, rubbing them at a slow pace and in a circular motion. Arching your body into his touch, Leon let out a chuckle— his other hand pushing your bra up your breast before the rough surface of his palm quickly fondled your tits.

“F-Fuck... Just like that...” You moaned out, throwing your head back from pure ecstasy as his hand massaged your tit while his fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy. Apart from the sound of your wanton moans, the squelches of your cunt sucking in his fingers and the low buzz coming from the radio filled the limited space of his car. “You like that? You like getting fingered by a stranger? God, I bet you did this to all of your customers, don’t you?”

You should’ve found that disrespectful, should’ve snapped back at him for thinking that way but somehow it made you wetter. His voice was soothing and had the right amount of hoarseness that you can’t help but get off from him shaming you. Either way, you shook your head in the heat of your bliss, looking back at him with misty eyes. “No, just you, Leon... You’re the only one that I-I let you do this...”

“Good. That's what I wanted to hear from you.” He smiled before he picked up the pace of his fingers, rubbing your clit in a rougher and sloppier manner. Lips parting slightly, you gasped for air, seemingly taken aback by the sudden change of pace as your nails dug deep into his shoulder blades, gripping him tightly with the familiar knot in your lower stomach threatened to break. He loves the feeling of your spongy walls wrapped around his digits, pulsing and sucking his fingers deeper and deeper until his fingers brushed against your sweet spot.

“Oh, you love that, don’t you? Filthy whore.” The name-calling made your pussy clings onto his digits tighter as a sly smirk painted all over his lips. “Such a slut for getting off to me calling you a filthy whore, huh?” You weakly nodded, feeling yourself nearer to your limit as a whine left your lips when his fingers were pumping deep inside of you, abusing your sweet spot to its limits. Your teeth bite back your lower lip when he spits on your clit, smearing his saliva all over the bundle of nerves with his thumb.

“You’re so fucking hot, I can’t wait to have you crying on my cock.” He said in a whisper, making sure you heard him despite the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling at the moment. “L-Leon, I'm... Fuck!... C-Cummin’” You cried, not caring if anyone that walked past his car would notice how your bare body is played by Leon like a piece of instrument. God, being seen nude by people now was the least concern you had, the only thing you could think about now is finishing on his fingers.

But what’s the fun in letting his little girl have everything her way?

“No, no, I’m not letting you cum, yet.” Leon pulled out his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, wrapping his tongue around his digits as he cleaned your juices off his pruney fingers. You pouted at his words, a frustrated sigh left your lips as you leaned your head on the window. “Why not?” You asked with your eyebrows furrowed into a small frown, it was clear you weren’t happy with him suddenly edging you. His eyes on you softened before he wrapped his arms around your body, his lips pressed on your bruised lips before he gave it a little lick.

“You don’t want to cum all over daddy’s dick?” Leon asked, once again, his thumb rubbing the bone of your hip in a circular motion. His eyes looked back at yours as he put his finger under your chin, lifting your face up to make you look up at him.

“It's going to feel nicer, princess. Don't you want that?”

He was right. God, why does he always know what to say to you? He arranged words in a way that weakened your knees and sent the same aching mess rushing back between your legs.

“I do, I do want it...” You weakly replied to him. Leon doesn't think you know how pretty you are now, looking up at him with those dew eyes, the clear desperation painted across your face and the way you already began to rub your thighs together. Getting you off his lap, he opened the right door of his car. You couldn’t help but stared at his erection, straining against his black jeans as Leon unbuckled his brown, leather belt. “Come here, princess.” He gestured for you to be closer as you listened to him, inching closer to him as the cold air from the outside hits your skin. His hand reached down to tease your hardened nipples, letting a glob of his spit fall down to your chest as he lathered your nipples with his saliva and pre cum using the tip of his cock.

“It's cold, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’d heat you up just in a sec. Ass up, face down, pretty girl.” You nodded, turning your back to him before bringing your hips higher as the leather of his car seat sticks to the sweat on your face. His cold fingers removed your panties, letting them hang just above your knees as his eyes stared at your dripping cunt with hungry eyes. A small gasp emits out of you when he tapped his cock on your slit several times, teasing your swollen clit with the head of his dick as you bite your lips back.

“Keep quiet, okay? I need you to take every inch of me like a good girl. Just let me know if it hurts.” A grunt left his lips when he pushed the tip past your lips, his other hand holding onto the doorframe of his car while the other settled around your waist. Leon wanted nothing but to push his cock and filled every corner of your tight cunt but he controlled himself from doing so. After all, the last thing he wanted to do is to hurt you after how sweet you are for him this whole night. “The head’s in... I’m going to start pushing more and more, okay?”

“O-Okay...” You whine, breathing heavily as your chest heaves up and down in an erratic pattern.

“Fuck, [Y/N], you need to stop sounding like that before...” Leon cut himself short, by now he was already halfway in you, the feeling of your velvet walls throbbing around his cock made his mouth dry before a shaky breath left his lips. A low whimper guttered out of his throat as you trembled under him, allowing him to bury his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy until your ass met his pelvis. “Feel that, princess?”

You moaned out a high-pitched yes to his question, throwing a glance at him over your shoulder as you looked at him through blurry vision. Salty tears clinging to your lashes with your bruised lips parted slightly, your eyes looking back at him with nothing but sheer desire. Leon spared you a smirk, pushing back his hair from his face before his hand landed yet another spank on your ass— seemingly turned on by the way you yelped and squeezed around him.

“Keep your eyes on me while I fucked you like the filthy whore you are.”

Leon begins to rock his hips at a slow pace, making sure you’re still adjusting to his size, his eyes shifting back and forth from your face to the way your cunt wraps snugly around his cock. Leaning closer to you until his chest pressed against your back, Leon planted a kiss on your earlobe. “You’re making me drunk from how good your pussy is, baby.” He said, kissing down the nape of your neck before he stood up back straight and began to move his hips faster.

This might just be the relief Leon needed after all of the fighting he had to endure.

“Hey, no looking away.” Every so often, he’d spanked you for not looking him in the eyes. He needs to see every contortion of expression on your face while you locked eyes with him. Leon knows you struggled to keep your eyes open, losing yourself in the pleasure as his throbbing cock goes in and out of you at a steady pace. And Leon loves it. He loves making sure your eyes are still on him, whether by spanking your already sore rear or suddenly thrusting deep inside of you to hear the small little scream you make when you’re surprised.

“Sorry, daddy.” And every time he does that, you never fail to apologize to him between your choked sobs and broken moans. It was endearing to watch, seeing you try your best to not disappoint him while he’s fucking your pussy raw in the back seat of his car. The shape of his fingers is already bruising into the skin of your flesh, the mixture of both pain and pleasure sending you over the edge as you curl your toes every time the tip of his cock grazes against your cervix. The prominent vein on the side of his cock rubbed against your walls with every thrust, fishing muffled moans out of you.

“Touch your clit for me, baby.” You’re so pathetic like this, being fucked in the backseat of a guy you just knew a few hours ago. But you knew what would happen the second you agreed to a ride back home from him. Not that you regretted it, being dicked down by Leon has been nothing but heaven for you. Obeying to his order, your hand travelled down between your thighs, putting your index finger on your swollen clit before easing it in a circular motion. “Good girl.” He growled, picking up the pace of his thrusts before he stopped in his tracks. Sweat hanging at the tip of his hair as he looked down to the ground, the pleasure was too much for him.

He can just cum any second now if he moves. Taking notice of his sudden pause, you grind your cunt into his dick, pushing him back into the warmth of your pussy as his eyes shoot wide. “F-Fuck, baby, you can’t…” He stuttered, the feeling of your tight cunt pulsing around his cock and the way your ass bouncing on him was too much for him to handled. Gritting his teeth, Leon pushed your head back down onto the leather seat, his other hand keeping a firm grip around your hips as he started to snap his hips at a rougher pace.

“Fucking slut, can’t even give daddy a rest.” He cursed under his breath, his cock ramming into your pussy deeper as if he were moulding the shape of his dick into your sweet cunt. Every last of self-control left his body the second you started bouncing on his cock. Leon couldn’t care less at the fact that you had already cummed on his cock once or how he rendered you into nothing but a crying mess— all he cared about is the high he was chasing.

Leon needed that sweet release. He needed to cum deep inside of your pussy despite having no rubber on. “I'm going to cum inside, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck….” You probably can’t hear it but Leon finds it adorable how you’re nodding your head to whatever he said. Throwing his head in pure bliss, Leon finally comes undone inside of you, shooting sticky webs of his seed deep into your cunt before he stays inside of you for a couple of minutes as he catches his breath. His cum overflows out from your pussy the seconds he pulls out, dripping down between your thighs and dirtying his leather seat with his cum and your juices.

“You're so pretty like this, [Y/N].” He groaned, putting his pants back up. Leon fished out his cell phone from his pocket, pressing the camera icon as he started recording.

“You’re recording…?” You asked, instinctively hiding your face from the camera as he laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn't want to forget a moment like this.” Leon calmly said, his fingers running between the lips as he scooped up his cum and started writing his initials on your lower back. He dragged the white, translucent liquid as he formed the L. S. K. alphabets on your skin.

“Perfect.”

p.s send me any thirsts (dc are welcomed) abt leon pls or carlos or any cod members. thank u ♡ english isn't my first language so if any of the sentences sound weird, just ignore it!!!!! anyway, thank u 4 readin’ this messy pornfic lol

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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month

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pretty wings- Vox/fallen angel!Reader

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55237840

A Good Samaritan- a rare commodity in Hell- helps Vox to his car in the rain. How can he ever repay her?

Tags: wing kink; angel wings; fallen angels; vaginal sex; couch sex; fantasizing; begging; switching? maybe idk; Vox has a lil crush <3

💙❤️💙❤️💙

How it still manages to rain in Hell when there is no real atmosphere, he would never understand. Vox had never really liked the rain, even when he was alive- all it ever meant was canceled plans, systems going down, deep shitty puddles that got his shoes and pants wet and dirty. Like now, standing off the back porch of the restaurant he had just finished a meeting in, waiting for his fucking assistant to answer his goddamn phone and call a driver for him so he could go the fuck home since he couldn’t walk to his car.

He had been standing under the awning of the restaurant for twenty minutes now. The rain showed no sign of letting up, his meeting partners had all left, and Vox was fucked. He couldn’t go back inside- what kind of fucking loser goes back into an establishment after paying their tab, and for what? To ask for an umbrella? He’d rather die again. And if his assistant didn’t pick up his phone real fucking soon, someone would absolutely be dying today.

“Excuse me, sir?”

He sighs internally, sets his charm to its max setting and the brightness of his screen up before he turns towards your voice. “So sorry, doll, I’m afraid I’m all out of time for photo ops today!”

You raise an eyebrow, and he lets his gaze travel over your form. You looked relatively normal for a demon, your face still pretty human besides the two horns that came off your skull. Your eyes were wide and yellow, a heavy coat draped over your shoulders as you looked at him- not that much shorter, he noted, which was a nice change of pace from talking to Velvette all the time and having to crane basically in half to meet her eyes.

“That’s… not what I was going to ask.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, and can feel his screen glitch on his smile as he watches you. “An interview then? Look, you can contact my people but I am really not in the-”

“What I was going to ask,” you interrupt him, and Vox fights down the wave of annoyance at having been cut off, “was if you needed help.”

His face screws up and he means to immediately deny. “Absolutely not. I’m perfectly fine-”

“Are you?”

And that was going to get annoying fast if you kept doing that, he thought to himself.

“You’ve been standing out here for close to half an hour and glaring at your phone. I don’t think its crazy to assume that you need some assistance with something having to do with the rain.” You look him over, much the same way that he had done to you. “I would imagine that the whole ‘TV head’ thing you have going on doesn’t mix well with precipitation.”

Well, you had him there. “You’re not wrong,” he admits testily. “But my assistant will be sending someone to drive me soon. I’ll be fine.” He flashes you a winning smile.

“I mean, I guess you could wait for your assistant to answer your calls- doesn’t seem like you’re having much luck with reaching them.” You cross your arms over your chest, and- nope, Vox was not going to stand out here in the rain and ogle some random sinner’s tits. He redirects his gaze. “Or you could let me either walk you to your car or walk with you to wherever you’re going.”

He throws you a side eye and sighs heavily, letting his head drop back before rolling an eye down to look at you. “You don’t look like you have an umbrella,” he says, crossing his arms now as well. “How exactly are we getting to my car?”

You give him a smile that shorts a fuse in his head for a moment, wide and earnest and pretty. “Who needs an umbrella?” You shrug one of your shoulders and the coat you’re wearing starts to slide off your shoulders. Vox makes a move to stop the slide like a gentleman, keep the coat covering your body and stop it from slipping into a puddle, when it rises up off your back and comes to cover the both of you. He sees black feathers interspersed with white spots as the bottom comes into view, and he realizes it wasn’t a coat at all.

You had wings. Big, powerful wings by the look of it- the part connected to your back didn’t shake under the weight of the limb being extended over your heads. He stared at them; he knew he was staring, that you might think it was strange, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was mesmerizing. Thrilling.

He feels a spark of arousal shoot through him at the sight of them, and his plans change for the night. You’re pretty, and the curves of your body are appealing, but the wings. He wants to explore them. Wants to tease you with your own feathers. To run his fingers over them and watch you struggle to maintain this composure you have. He’s confident in his ability to get you home with him- maybe offer a drink as thanks for your help or something.

“Sure, I guess you can walk me to my car,” he says, feigning an air of disinterest despite the twitch in his cock. “It’s not every day one meets a sinner so giving- I might as well take advantage!” He sees the flinch that shoots across your face, making your wing tremble, but you straighten up and stiffen your shoulders, gesturing out to the street being beaten by the rain.

“Lead the way.”

He steps out from under the awning and is delighted when your wing does, in fact, shelter the both of you from the weather. You bring the second wing out to block any rain from blowing under the first with the wind, and Vox is fucking obsessed with the subtle muscle of them, the careful strength in the way that you adjust the angle of them to keep him dry. It seems subconscious, the movement of them, as Vox gave you directions to where he had parked earlier when the sky was dry and he had thought he could enjoy a nice walk after his meeting.

A piece of paper, litter off the ground, comes flying under the shelter you were providing him aiming right for his screen. He brings up a hand to block it- wet paper wouldn’t do any real damage but it was still annoying- when the tip of the wing over your head dips down slightly, catches it with a corner, and flings it off to the side. A drop of water manages to fly off the thing and splatter on his screen. You give him a smile, apology on your lips at being unable to prevent the attack. You turn back to the cars in front of you, looking for the electric blue of his vehicle that he had described to you.

Vox wants you spread out in his bed, he decides. Your wings splayed out behind you in whatever position he decided to take you- he would work with anything. He could trace his fingers over the delicate bones with you on your back as he drilled into you; grab a fistful of feathers while he fucks you from behind, use that leverage to sink his cock into you as far as he could manage; let you unfurl them from your back while you ride him so they cover you both like a blanket, seal yourselves off from the rest of the world and let the only light you see be his screen in the darkness of it.

“Sir?”

He blinks hard a couple times and realizes that you’ve reached his car, and you’re standing there in the rain illuminated by the few streetlights that reach this back corner. Your eyebrow is cocked at him in amusement, wings still suspended over him. “I think walking you over here defeats the purpose if you don’t actually get in the car.”

“Right, right!” He touches a claw to the vehicle and it roars to life as he grabs the handle and maneuvers himself inside of it. He looks up at you now, the positions reversed, and his breath catches in his throat, cock throbbing. You’re magnificent like this, wings still hanging above you and slightly over the car to make sure no moisture can reach him. The rest of your body is relaxed but he can see it in his head, the way that you would look tense with pleasure, eyes clenched shut and mouth hanging open.

You give him a smile. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The vague chagrin that shoots through him does nothing to quell the erection rapidly growing in his pants. “I was going to say thank you,” he insists, and the way you laugh has him wanting to inject the sound into his fucking veins. “Can I- can I give you a ride home? You know, as thanks for walking me over here, making sure I don’t get waterlogged.”

You look like you’re going to refuse at first but then you shrug. “Sure. It’s not too far, if you really don’t mind.”

Fuck yes! The processors in his head are whirring, wondering how best to convince you to come back to his place on the way to yours. Or fuck, maybe he could just join you at your place. He wasn’t picky about where the fucking happened, as long as it did. He was desperate for it, to have you gasping for him while he plucked at your pretty wings with his cock nestled deep inside your pussy.

The passenger door opens and you enter the car with your knees on the leather seat. He questions it for only a moment before you lean back and shake your wings viciously outside the vehicle, dispersing as much of the water as you can before you sit normally in the seat. You buckle up and give him a sweet smile, pointing a slender finger to the other side of the parking lot where the exit is.

He can’t remember being so fucking turned on before as he puts some music on and starts driving. Sure, he had his fun with Val and sometimes some of his actors between scenes and shit, the occasional fangirl or one of Velvette’s models but just being aroused by the presence of someone? Who wasn’t actively trying to seduce him? Was just sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he drove her home?

It was new, and it was exciting, and God, those fucking wings…

They’re tucked delicately behind you, the black of your feathers contrasting nicely with the deep red leather of his seats. He’d never seen a demon with wings like these before- they were usually attached to the arms of them or draped off the back. More for decoration than anything else; even Val’s wings weren’t so prehensile and flexible, he thought, thinking about the way the tip had dipped down to sling that piece of paper away from him.

“So, your wings-”

“We’re here,” you say with a grin, the car not even having left the parking lot.

“What? I- here? ” He does stop the vehicle before looking over at you, craning his neck forward to look at a building that sat kitty corner to the restaurant he had his meeting in.

“I told you it wasn’t far.” He can hear the giggle in your voice. “How else do you think I saw you standing out here the whole time? I could see the glow of your screen from my window. Figured I would offer a hand since you didn’t look like you were making much progress.”

He stares at you. He hadn’t had time to try to convince you to spend more time with him- to convince you to let him get his hands on those feathers.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You’re reaching for the door handle when he blurts out, “wait!”

And thank fuck, you do. You look back at him with an eyebrow raised but your hand stops reaching. He clears his throat, fixes you with what he hopes is a suave look. “Let me thank you,” he says. “We can go grab a drink at my place- or I can buy you dinner, if you’d rather do that. Order some takeout if you want to stay home.” Smile wide, he waits for you to respond.

Bells and whistles ring in his head as you buckle back up. “I’m down on one condition.”

“Name it, doll,” is his immediate response, and he’s only a little embarrassed at the speed with which he spoke. “Really, I want to give you a proper show of gratitude- there’s no way this counts. Whatever you want.”

A crooked little smile graces your face. “Can I get your name?”

He can almost feel the error message crawl across the bottom of his screen; he doesn’t know what it says but he watches your eyes follow the scrawl of words, the real reason he knew it was there. “Vox,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” He leaves off what is obvious to anyone else- Overlord of Hell, Media Mastermind, TV demon on the fast track to ruling Pentagram city. If you didn’t already know these things then you had to be new- that explained the blatant disrespect earlier, interrupting him, dismissing his words. If you didn’t know he wouldn’t tell you yet. He would win you over and get you onto a horizontal surface without his reputation; preferably with his sharp tongue, strong fingers and thick cock if he had a choice in the matter.

“Vox.” You repeat his name, and it sounds so sweet and innocent that he can’t wait for you to scream it out in ecstasy. You give him your name in return as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards Vee Tower.

The silence is comfortable on the relatively short drive, Vox pulling the car into the basement garage of Vee Tower and quietly relishing in the fascinated expression on your face when someone comes to grab the keys to park his car as he leads you to the elevator. “You’re some kind of hotshot, huh?” You ask, lashes fluttering at him in a way that makes his knees weak.

“Something like that, doll,” he says, smile wide while you take it all in. Even just the garage is sophisticated and impressive, and he wishes he could see it through your eyes. He notices your raised eyebrows at the push of the button for the penthouse, but you don’t say anything. “So, your wings- are you some kind of bird?”

A tight smile. “Something like that, doll,” you parrot back to him. “That’s more of a second date question, I think.”

Second date. Was this your first date? Fuck, he should have called his assistant ahead of time and made him get something prepared fresh- gotten some fucking good champagne in- swapped out his comfortable sheets for the silk ones that his bed partners were nuts for even if he didn’t really care for them. But his assistant was fucking useless tonight, evidenced by the fact of your being here in the first place since he couldn’t get a car to fetch him.

Vox might not have met you if he had answered the phone though- so maybe he would let it slide.

He leads you out of the elevator into his home, the lights of Pentagram City casting a lovely red glow over your body. “Nice view.” You stand by it, the white tips of your wings illuminated where the light shone through. He comes to stand beside you in front of the couch, and you give him a pretty smile. “I do have a question though.”

“What’s that?” He has his phone out, firing off one last text to his assistant - "If I don’t hear back from you in the next ten minutes I’m swapping your contract for one of Val’s. FUCKING ANSWER ME” should get his message across- and missing the narrowing of your eyes when you turn back to face him.

“Do you know that you aren’t subtle?” You hook an ankle around the back of his leg and yank, sending him toppling backwards into the couch, his phone hitting the cushion next to you. He has only a brief moment to flounder, wonder what the fuck was happening, before you were straddling his lap, knees on either sides of his thighs and your skirt pulled taut between your legs. “See, I really couldn’t tell if you thought you were. I figured I would ask.”

“What?” He can’t find the power to do anything but watch with his eyes wide while you slide your hands down his chest and settle into his space, the warmth of your cunt palpable through his trousers where you rest against his rapidly hardening prick. “What do you-”

“Ah, you don’t know. Cute.” The word makes him twitch, and when he opens his mouth to protest what comes out instead is a choked off whine as you roll your hips into him. “I like my men a little cute- when they think they’re being so suave and sexy but all they can think about is getting their hands on my body. Or my wings, in this case.” As you mention them you let them puff up a little behind you, spread out ever so slightly so Vox could get a better look. His breath catches- silhouetted by the glow of the city behind you, you were breathtaking.

“What gave me away, doll?” He could deny, but what was the point in that? The night was already progressing the way that he wanted. You were perhaps a little more forward than he was expecting, but he could work with that. As long as it ended with your pussy swallowing up his cock he would be a happy demon.

You laughed, the sound like a bell in the silence of his place as he settles his hands on your hips. “Besides the blatant ogling of them when I first brought them out and the whole way across the parking lot, you mean? You had an error message in the car running across your screen just here-” You lean down and lick across the lower right corner of his face. “You wanna know what it said?”

“Enlighten me.” He’s amazed he can still get a word out with the blood rushing to his cock, hard length pressed against you where you’re seated on his lap.

“‘Pretty wings,’ it said.” Your fingers come down to undo his belt, whipping it from the loops of his pants. Vox nearly chokes on his tongue when you pull his cock out, already hard and leaking in your hand as you tighten your grip. “Suuuper cute. Over and over.” You lift your hips a bit, shoving your skirt up near your hips and hovering over his length. “I wanna hear it instead of reading it though- can you say it for me, pretty boy?”

You skim his tip through the slickness between your legs, and his brain short circuits when he realizes that you haven’t been wearing panties. “Fuck me,” he manages to laugh out. “Was this your plan the whole time? Play the good Samaritan to get me home so you could ride my cock?”

You shake your head and let yourself sink down the slightest bit, a breathy moan leaving your throat as his head is swallowed by your tight, wet heat. “Not initially. I really was just trying to be a nice person.” You throw him a wink, pulling away when he tries to thrust up and not allowing him to get any deeper inside of you. “Come on now- give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

Fuck, if that doesn’t shoot straight to his prick. “Pretty wings,” he murmurs, letting one of his hands leave your hip to brush against the soft feathers. “They’re beautiful. Strong. Fuckin’ perfect.” With each word you slide down further until you’re fully seated on his cock. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“That’s it, baby,” you say, and shift your hips forward to get him where you want him. “You were thinking about this, yeah?” With a downward grind you let your wings unfurl completely, filling his vision with a flash of feathers that blocks the light of the city from reaching him. A ripple runs through them, the tremor rolling all the way from top to tip and the feeling is imitated around his cock, your tight walls rippling.

He doesn’t whine, thank you very much. But a broken drawn out sound does escape his mouth, screen thrown back over the back of the couch. He can’t bare to fucking look at you with how perfect the moment is, the sight and sound and sensation of you stuffed with his cock better than he could have imagined. “I wanna touch them,” he says, but when he reaches his fingers out you wrap your hands around his wrists, surprising strength in your redirection of his palms to your chest.

“Can we say ‘please’, pretty boy?” You let your wings flutter, a gust of wind blowing across his face from the movement, moaning when his prick hits a soft spot inside you that makes you gush around his length. “I’ll let you touch them if you ask nicely.”

His pride fights him for a moment- this wasn’t exactly how it was supposed to go, with him at your mercy instead of the other way around. He had wanted you under him, wings spread across his mattress and feathers fisted in his hands while he fucked you.

“I’ll give you a demonstration of what I’m looking for,” you offer, and then your lashes are fluttering, eyes rolling back into your head and a whine falling forth from your mouth. “Oh fuck, Vox , baby, please.”

Pride flies out the window in favor of the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock. “Please, sweetheart,” he says, and he lets his clawed thumbs roll over the pebbles of your nipples where you hold him against your chest. “Let me touch them? I’ll be real gentle with you, baby.”

You pick up the pace, releasing his hands and bringing your wings forward, bordering him on either side so all he can see is you. “That’s what I like to hear,” you whisper with a grin, bracing your hands on his shoulders and properly riding him now, the slick sound of your body taking him in echoing in the emptiness of his living room.

He lifts his trembling palms from your chest and brushes the tips of his claws along the bottoms of your wings, feathers gliding softly over his digits- the sensation makes you moan, another gentle ripple running through them. He fists his hands in them, pulling lightly like he might at someone’s hair, and your wet heat pulses around him, pussy tight like you mean to keep him inside of you forever. He wants that- wants to stay buried where he currently is until Hell falls to pieces around you.

His phone rings on the couch beside him, the call taking over his screen moments later. Vox doesn’t want to let go of your wings, having just gotten his hands on them- with a shake of his head the call is dismissed, only to immediately come back and take over his face again. “God fucking-”

You lift a hand from his shoulder and answer the call, a right swipe and a wicked smile leading to Vox’s assistant’s voice filling the space between you and him. “-and I am SO. SORRY. Sir I swear, I have never had my phone on silent like this before-” He continues his rant, and Vox struggles to remember why he was even calling right now- he was fucking busy, damn it, what the fuck.

“-understand that you’re upset, but please, sir, I’ll do better, just don’t send me to Valentino-”

“Better answer him,” you whisper to Vox, dragging your tongue up the side of his screen, hips grinding down. “If I cum before the call ends I’ll leave.”

Graceful fingers slide down your body to rub at your own clit, moaning prettily into the side of his face while his assistant rambled in his ear. Vox was going to fucking combust.

“Just- fuck, man, shut up. It’s fine.” You chuckle into his shirt, deft fingers unbuttoning it and raking your claws down his chest. “ Jesus fuck, I- no, not you. It’s fine. We’ll talk in the morning-”

“But sir if you still need a ride-”

“I fucking found a ride, alright,” he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your wings in one hand and letting the other trail firmly along the top of it, all the way down to the tip. The feathers seem to shiver in his grasp and your cunt clenches around him, threatens to pull him over the edge with how close you are. “Call me in the morning. Now f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔ o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞. ”

Voice files corrupted, he disconnects the call, reaches his hands around your back to finger at the base of your wings, the skin there taut and sensitive if the keening groan you let off into his shirt is anything to go by. “Fuck me, you feel divine,” he mutters, and you choke off a chuckle at the word. “Let me feel you, angel, cum on my cock.”

“N- naughty men that don’t say please don’t get to make demands,” you say, and he could tease you, could pull your hand away from your clit and make you hover right on the edge of release. But he was a selfish man, and could admit that he wanted the feeling of you coming undone around him more than he wanted to be right.

“Please, baby, please,” he begs, and you hiss through your teeth at the sound of his pleading, sweet and low, the slightest hint of static to his voice. “God, fucking d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛, please, l- let me w̡̻̻̣͚̒̀ͅo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅh̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡-”

““Oh fuck, Vox, baby, please-” Less sarcastic this time despite the half formed smile on your face, and the teasing lilt to it is ruined by the clenching of your eyes as you clamp down on his prick and cum, fingers of the hand not frantically rubbing at your clit digging into his skin while you shudder and shake in the embrace of his arms.

He follows you moments later, the tension he had felt since meeting you outside the restaurant finally cresting and crashing, and he spends himself inside of the slick grip of your cunt, still riding him with the effort you can spare after the force of your orgasm before eventually slowing. You take your fingers from your clit, circle them around the base of his cock and collect some of your combined releases before bringing them up to his mouth, pushing inside and letting Vox’s tongue wrap around the length of them.

Fuck. You would be the death of him, he was sure.

“Not bad,” you mutter once you’ve collapsed bonelessly against him. “Might need a couple more rounds to really show you the ropes though- really get it through your screen here who is in charge.”

“That’s not you, doll.” Vox laughs, and you bring your wings up to surround the two of you like a fort, the glow of his screen illuminating your face and the teasing smile you wear.

“I guess I could be willing to share,” you agree, leaning forward far enough to press a teasing kiss to the plastic of his face. “We can talk about it tomorrow after you reassure your little assistant that you’re not going to murder him.”

“Still thinking about it,” he muses, “but we’ll see.” He runs his fingers again along the bottom of your wings, delights in your shiver, and wishes the rain would never stop.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin vox #x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox the tv demon #my stuff <3

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emmettworld · 2 months

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hello, my beloved whump community. this is Emmett. but you probably know me better as this blog:

or you may remember the blog before that:

you may have even been here since this blog:

...i'm not taking you farther than that. xD

my account was terminated without any warning today. March 25, 2024. all of my blogs are gone and i have lost everything i have on them. you won't even be able to see any comments or reblogs for me on any of your posts.

if you have commissioned me over Tumblr DMs and not Discord, please contact me here. i did not have a copy of my commission list saved. i do not know who hasn't paid and who already has. i do not remember who was on the list. i do not want anyone to be cheated out of their money.

i have no idea why this happened. i was not doing anything that could justify my account being terminated with no warning or explanation. i'm so paranoid about it that i won't even type the blog names; that's why they're images instead.

but at this point, most of you know the type of whump creator i am. one who creates whatever he wants, no matter how disturbing or explicit it may be. one who loves creating whump and content in general of the Not Safe For This Website kind.

getting one of my blogs flagged, and now losing everything, is not going to stop me. i'm not going anywhere. but i am going to be changing my approach to posting content.

this is my Language Key. i will be using a system of emojis for tagging instead of words, so please read this before you go on my blog and know which tags you need to block.

if you need to block my blog for any reason, go ahead. i don't want to disturb anyone by showing up in the tags.

all of my artwork that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked to an external storage website, MEGA. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no cropped previews unless they are 100% Safe For This Website.

all of my writing that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked directly to where i post it on my AO3. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no writing put under a read more unless it is 100% Safe For This Website.

trust me, i'll have a better pinned post up at some point explaining who i am and my multiverse of AUs, series, and OCs, and links to my commission page, and my Ko-Fi...and i'll do my best to finish the masterlists and, once again, build myself up from the ground up...

but i'm exhausted. i never saw this coming, and it's made me realize just how unsafe i am. i lost so much content that was only posted on Tumblr and not saved anywhere else.

believe me when i say that i am fucking devastated.

but i'm not going anywhere. i will die with this site when it eventually goes down, and not because it tried to kill me.

that being said, you can find me here on Cohost, which is where i'll migrate to when this place dies or where i'll communicate if i happen to get IP address banned (probably without warning) or something that prevents me from coming back.

if you don't want to refollow me here, i totally understand. i can't say how grateful i am to everyone who does, but like...i get it. it's tedious having to refollow me all the time, never knowing when a blog (or full ass account) is going to suddenly disappear. if you want to get off this crazy, unpredictable ride now, i don't blame you.

and if you decide to stick around, for however long, thank you. this day has been one of my worst nightmares and i don't think i would be handling this with nearly as much grace if it were not for my friends and everyone on my Discord server (which, by the way, is the only safe place where i share everything uncensored).

they were my first line of communication. they helped me get the word out. they rallied for me and kept me from having one massive breakdown over this, so my heartfelt thanks go out to them.

i'm using the whump community tags in hopes that more people will see this. i had hundreds of followers on my last blog, more than a thousand on the blog before that...i know this isn't going to reach everyone, but i hope it will reach some people.

thank you so much for reblogging this to help spread the word if you do. and thank you for reading. ❤️

#whump #whumplr #whump community #whump art #whump writing #whump creators #whump blogs #emmettworld

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the-ace-with-spades · 16 days

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I'll never write it so gonna post the abandoned idea for it here (also as a reminder, all my fic ideas are for grabs unless stated otherwise so if someone wants to pick it up, be my guest)

Red strings of fate/Soulmates AU

You are connected to your soulmate by a red thread only you and your soulmate can see and touch (and cut). When your soulmate dies, the thread solidifies and becomes heavier, as long as the distance between the soulmates was the time one of them died — almost like a chain.

Jake and Bradley find out they're soulmates early on in flight school — it's hard not to when the thread pulls tauter and tauter until they finally meet in the same classroom and they can see the other end of the thread for the first time.

There's fascination, there's the thrill of sneaking around (they should disclaim it, as soon as they learn, so it can be put in their records, but they never do) and everything is new and bright. They start to treasure the string, turning around their fingers and finding joy in noticing the other end twitching and pulling — with time, they notice the motions translate over the tread no matter how far away they are.

They make up a system of pulls and tags, using Morse code and it becomes something else, they become something else — in the air, wordlessly in sync, on the ground, talking to each other whenever they want, during sleepless nights and separate schedules and long-distance deployments.

Until.

Things start getting complicated. Bradley has commitment and abandonment issues, Jake's an all-or-nothing type of guy and just being soulmates isn't enough.

They go their separate ways. Bradley still, sometimes, when he can't sleep and the night makes him feel like nothing has a sense or a purpose, sends little messages down the thread. He never gets replies.

The day they meet again at the Hard Deck, Jake suspects Bradley is coming for the same assignment. The string’s been getting lighter and lighter the whole night, dropping down, no longer stretched to its limit.

They try to ignore the string the whole time the training goes on, but Mav still suspects. He doesn't say anything, but he feels like history is repeating itself.

When Mav and Bradley are arguing in the debriefing room and Warlock comes in, he doesn't say anything but Mav looks down at his own wrist and his face turns white and Bradley knows at that moment.

(Whether Mav and Ice are soulmates and married or they are soulmates but Ice still married Sarah, that's up for discussion).

During the whole funeral, Mav rolls the invisible thread around his wrist, moving onto his arm when it's not enough.

It's at that moment — Bradley decides Jake will never have to do the same.

The minute he turns around for Mav, he makes up a plan in his head.

They find each other in the snow, and argue, but by the end of it, Mav is making up a crazy plan and they'll try to return in one piece. Try being the keyword.

He pulls on the string, the thread between his thumb and index finger.

Mav frowns. "What are you doing?"

"Sending a message before we go."

He repeats it, just in case Jake hasn't realized in time to catch the whole thing at first. And then he starts looking through the pockets of his life vest.

“He’s not walking around with a dead man’s chain, Mav.”

Mav tries to stop him the second he realizes what Bradley is going to do but it's too late — with the same knife he cut his parachute off, he cuts off the thread, close to his wrist, letting it fall limping into the snow, red almost looking like droplets of blood.

It takes Jake a minute to realize that the tagging is a physical feeling, not just wishful thinking formed by his imagination.

The carrier deck is a mess, the foxtrot teams returned, Phoenix is now arguing with the admirals about Rooster's position — he might not be dead, sir — and the ringing in Jake's ears doesn't stop until he looks down at his wrist, and sees the string moving, the pulling a rhythmic, well-known motion.

Aloud, breaking up the vivid discussion about Maverick and Rooster's status, he says, “Rooster is alive, he’s—he’s talking,” and it almost feels like it's someone else using his voice.

“What do you mean, Hangman? His comm is silent.”

“Can feel it on the string, it’s still red and he’s— he’s tugging in Morse code,” he says. He closes his eyes and lets himself be pulled by the wrist. “S-O-R-R—Sorry, he’s—sorry and—and—I-L—Shit, no.”

I-L-Y

The string flops down, loose. “No—”

He cut it. He cut it because it's still red and not gray but still too limp and he knows it. His wrist feels too light, too free.

When Bradley lands on the carrier, his wrist is bare and the thread pools around Jake's feet. It doesn't magically reconnect when they touch, when they shake hands.

Jake tries to desperately find the other end, carrying rolls and piles of it with him as he follows Bradley to the med bay.

“Jake, just—just cut it,” he tells him. “It’s going to connect you again in a day or two.”

Jake ignores him, pulling miles and miles of the thread into circled piles next to Bradley's bed. He can't see the floor — it's just red and red and nothing else.

“No,” is all Jake says. “Not to you.”

It'll find him a new match, connect the thread to someone else, to someone who isn't Bradley.

"Bring me some scissors," Bradley says. He almost feels bad, when Jake's gaze turns up to him, glaring with shiny eyes. "Just do as I say for once."

Wordlessly, looking like it pains him, Jake brings him disposable scissors.

Bradley grabs his hand before he can move away, pulls about three feet of the thread from the pile, and cuts off the excess on the floor.

He wraps it around his own wrist, the string thin and soft, and a little clumsily ties it into a loop over his arm. When he leans away again, the thread takes a second, taut, and then stretches with the distance, like it has always done.

Jake stares at it, too focused and too absent. "That's the shittiest knot I've ever seen."

Bradley huffs. "Well, you gotta learn to live with it."

#can you tell i used to specialize in soulmates au fanfics #the ideas are endless #tgm #hangster #icemav mention #weirdly enough it was inspired by both me and my partner knowing morse code (kinda) and tinkering with the idea f buying bondtouch bracelet #you know the ones where the other person can feel when you tap yours

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tboygareth · 8 months

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follow me between the jaws of fate

written for @steves-strapcollection's birthday | rating: e | wc: 7,893 | cws: sex pollen, semi-dubcon, first time, virgin eddie, other tags can be found on ao3

happy birthday, ger bear. i love you so much. so. much. you mean the fucking world to me and i'm so glad i got to write this for you. never dilute yourself. your intensity is one of the best and most endearing things about you. <333

beta'd by @patchworkgargoyle and @stobinesque. cheerled, enabled, and encouraged by @sidekick-hero

READ ON AO3

It’s new, this thing between Eddie and Steve. So new, in fact, that between their work schedules and band practice and Hellfire and Steve and Robin’s Soulmate Bonding Sundays, the two of them haven’t exactly had… like… the time to, like… y’know. Not that they haven’t talked about it! (and talked about it and talked about it and talked a little more about it - at length, in the car on the way home from the diner and on the phone late into the night after Steve’s dropped Eddie off at the trailer and gone home to that stupid big empty house of his.)

It’s making Eddie crazy. He’s never been this hungry for someone in his life, and every time they’re together without being together Eddie feels like he’s going to snap. They’ve kissed - they kiss so much, in fact, that Eddie’s pretty sure he knows the shape of Steve’s mouth better than he knows his own - and just the other night Steve let him cop a feel during their make out session before he sent Eddie home to take care of his hard on by himself.

He’s pretty sure Steve’s been waiting for the right moment, waiting to make it special, because Eddie’s never done this before and Steve’s been talking about taking it slow, or whatever. But Eddie doesn’t fucking want to take it slow - the craving for Steve sits deep in the pit of his stomach and eats him alive and Eddie’s got nowhere to put that hunger. He’s jerking off more now than he ever did as a teenager, thinking of the way Steve’s hands feel on his face when they’re making out, the way his tongue tastes when he licks into Eddie’s mouth, the little sounds Steve makes at the back of his throat when Eddie opens for him.

One of these days Eddie’s just gonna have to get on his knees and beg for it - undignified, sure, but Eddie’s not above making a horny fool of himself if it means finally getting split open on Steve’s cock.

The day everything comes to a head is… normal. It’s a normal fucking day. Eddie gets up and he showers and he goes to work at the diner that Hopper went and spent the summer fixing up, where Eddie and the retired cop now trade lighthearted insults across the kitchen. Steve’s up front, running plates and charming the panties off of every old woman who walks through the door. It’s not a bad gig, this thing at Hopper’s diner, but Eddie hates the hairnet almost as much as he loves Steve’s goofy little grin every time they make the briefest eye contact through the expo window.

Eddie drinks so much coffee during his shifts that by midday he’s so jittery and anxious that he needs to get something fried and greasy in his system whenever there’s a lull in customers. He’s sitting on an overturned mayo bucket outside the propped open back door, fistful of fries in one hand and a cigarette in the other when Steve finds him. He plucks the cigarette from between Eddie’s fingers and takes a long drag.

“Thought you quit,” Eddie teases, the way he does every time Steve commandeers a cigarette from him.

“I did. Don’t tell Robin,” he smiles in return, happily continuing their little in-joke with a wink. “Skull Rock later?”

“Finally gonna have your wicked way with me, King Steve?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It hangs between them like a living thing, this tension. Eddie would like that, and Steve would too, and eventually one of them will make it happen. Maybe today, maybe not. But eventually. Some days, when work’s been busy, they’ll sneak off to Skull Rock after their shift, just the two of them, to smoke a joint and work through a twelve pack of cheap beer together.

It’s late enough into September now that the leaves are beginning to change. It’s been doing wonders for Eddie’s mood; he’s never coped well with the heat and humidity of summer.

“Better get back in there,” Steve sighs, handing the cigarette back. “It’s about time for Mrs. Johnson to show up to try to set me up with her granddaughter again.”

“Have fun, slugger.”

“You too, and try to cut back on the coffee this afternoon, yeah? Little water never killed anybody.”

Eddie waves him off and goes back to his basket of French fries, dunking them into the pile of ketchup before shoving them into his mouth. Eddie loves their little Skull Rock dates. If you can call them dates at all. They are, but they’re not. Sure, it’s just the two of them atop the rock together. And sure, they talk about anything and everything under the sun while they drink and pass the joint back and forth. But they keep a respectable distance from one another most days. Until, of course, they get back to the privacy of Steve’s car where they can put their hands all over each other under the cover of night and not have to worry.

After work, they clamber into the Beamer and head to the convenience store. Steve buys a case of cheap beer and Eddie’s got his lunchbox in tow when they make it to their little spot, and then they help one another to climb up the face of the rock to sit together at the top. Steve tears back the cardboard and tosses a can to Eddie as he breaks up the weed to pick out the seeds and stems.

“Rob with Vickie tonight?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, they’re going into the city to see some foreign film Vickie’s been wanting to see.”

“God, she and Robin are kinda perfect for each other, huh?”

Steve hums, gazing down into his beer like his thoughts are far away. Steve hasn’t said anything about it, and he probably never will but… he’s jealous. Eddie can see it in the droop of his shoulders and the line between his eyebrows whenever they start talking about Robin and Vickie. It’s hard, when your best friend is in those beginning stages of a new relationship. You feel left out, a little lonely now that they’re cultivating something so fresh and new. Eddie can imagine that, for Steve, that feeling is even bigger.

For like a year, all they really had was each other, and Eddie’s gotten to know the two of them - their dependence on one another - pretty well over the last few months. Steve would never want to come across as needy or inconvenient, but he is needy and now that he’s gotten used to Robin being around all the time, it must be so weird for her to be around less than she used to be. She’d decided to take what her parents called a gap year between high school and college, the way they’d done when they were younger, fighting the good fight against the Vietnam War at whatever protests they could find their way to.

And so Steve had been gearing up to have Robin by his side all summer and into the autumn, just like they’d been since Starcourt, but now she’s got a girlfriend.

“Y’know Jeff got a girlfriend, too,” Eddie says. “It’s been weird, he’s missed, like, the last two Hellfire campaigns and he’s always late to band practice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for him or whatever, but man… it kinda sucks not seeing him as much.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I get it… I’m not, like, bitter or mad at Robin or anything. Y’know? I’m happy for her. Really. She’s liked Vickie a long time.”

Eddie shrugs. “Just sucks not seeing her as much,” he finishes for Steve.

“Yeah.”

Eddie lights the joint, takes a big hit into his lungs, passes it across to Steve. “Maybe you should invite me over then.”

Steve scoffs, takes a long pull from the joint and a deep swallow of his beer, his cheeks pink.

“Maybe I will this time,” he says on the exhale. He passes the joint back, and they let their fingers linger against each other for just a moment too long.

Eddie’s heart is racing. This might be it. He tries to not sound too hopeful, tries to make it a little teasing when he says, “Yeah? You gonna take me home with you?”

Steve’s eyes are locked with his own, and the anticipation is building, the words are right there, but Steve’s eyes flick to a point over Eddie’s shoulder and he squints. His posture changes, hackles up, and it makes something like fear creep up Eddie’s spine.

“What the fuck is that?”

The spell Eddie’d found himself in is broken as quickly as it started as he watches Steve scramble down off the rock and head over to where he saw… whatever it is that he saw. Eddie’s racing after him before he can stop himself. He lands bad on his ankle and has to hobble a little bit to keep up with Steve’s purposeful trek across the woods.

“Steve!” he’s calling after him. “Steve, what? What did you see?”

“Nothin’ fucking good,” Steve mumbles when Eddie finally catches up to him. “Do you have a walkie? I left mine in the car. Dustin’s gonna kill me if this is what I think it is.”

Steve stops short, beneath a big, old oak tree that’s rotting from the roots. And there, right at the base of the tree, growing out of the trunk, is the ugliest fucking flower Eddie has ever seen. It’s not even properly a flower, doesn’t look like it’s bloomed yet, but the bud is enormous, easily as long as Steve’s forearm and twice as thick at its widest point in the middle.

Eddie’s seen Will’s drawings of what the kids have called demogorgons and demodogs. The bud of this flower… it looks like that. It looks like it could open up at any moment with petals full of teeth and slimy spit to take a bite out of one of them.

Eddie loses the internal battle with his impulse control and reaches toward it, not sure if he's going to just touch it or rip it out by the roots altogether, but certain he doesn’t have control over himself either way, and Steve smacks his hand away as the petals begin to open. He gets in between Eddie and the flower. It unfurls into a deep, bloody red, two yellow stamen in the center poking out, and it seems to creak, the sound of an old abandoned house settling in the night.

The dread makes Eddie’s skin crawl with goosebumps. They’re too close to it. They need Dustin’s walkie. They’ve gotten too careless. The kids warned them that something could happen at any time, and they’ve gotten too comfortable thinking they’d be done with the Upside Down and the demo-everythings and the horror.

But now here’s this flower, very obviously from the hell dimension Eddie almost didn’t make it out of the first time, blooming deep red to remind them that they’ll never really be free. And its stamen is pointed right at Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s frozen on the spot, just staring at the fucking thing and shaking in his fucking sneakers. Steve’s got an arm out between the flower and Eddie, his stance defensive, and the flower --

Coughs on him. There’s no other way to describe it. It coughs and it spits spores in Eddie’s face and Eddie gasps when it happens and the moment is over in less than a second but it sinks into them both, the reality of it, and Steve takes Eddie firmly by the hand to drag him away from the flower.

The effect is crazy fucking fast. Whatever’s in those spores goes straight to Eddie’s head and makes him dizzy. That’s how it fucking starts. He shakes his head and tries to focus but his throat is getting a little tight and suddenly he’s sweating like a whore in church. His vision is a little bit fuzzy and distantly, he thinks Steve might be saying something to him.

“Huh?” he asks, taking just a second to lean against the nearest tall, hard surface to catch his breath.

“I asked if you’re okay,” Steve says, and he sounds a little muted, almost like they’re underwater. It makes Eddie laugh, for some reason.

When Eddie looks at him, Steve comes into sharp focus, and the woods around them melt away. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“‘M great, big guy. How are you?”

“Eddie. You’re soaked with sweat, dude, are you gonna be alright?”

“Pssh!” Eddie says, waving a hand at him. How many beers had he had before they ran off? Not nearly enough to be drunk.

Oh, man, maybe the pot was a bad batch.

“No, Eddie, it’s not the pot. It was the fucking flower that spit spores all over you.”

Did he say all that out loud?

“Yes. Fuck, we gotta get you outta here. Come on.”

Steve touches him again, and Eddie’s skin sings. It’s like an electric shock, everywhere they touch lighting up like tiny little firecrackers, and it makes Eddie laugh again. Steve is pulling him forward, to the edge of the wood where they’d parked their cars, and Eddie feels himself stumbling, his steps off kilter.

He can’t focus on anything that isn’t Steve, can’t see past him or around him or through him and his lips are itching with the need to press against him.

“Stevie, wait,” Eddie says, and Steve turns toward him. “We both feel this, right?”

“No, Eds, the spores only got you.”

“Not that, I…” He hesitates, his head swimming, that hunger for Steve clawing its way to the front of his consciousness until it’s all he can think about. He’s hard in his jeans thinking about before, when they were teasing each other on top of skull rock, flirting with the idea of going home together later. He adjusts himself in his jeans, hissing at the friction of his hand against himself. “This. We both feel that, don’t we?”

For a second, Steve looks like he’s in pain. “Yeah, but… I don’t think… maybe drugged up by an Upside Down flower isn’t the best time to talk about it.”

Fuck talking about it. Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to show Steve. He palms himself again, distantly hears himself moan as he presses his hips against his hand.

“Oh, fuck, what did that thing do to you?”

“It’s not that, it’s you. I’m so fuckin’ hot for you I can’t stand myself. Been wantin’ to go all the way for weeks now but we never do. I need you, Stevie.”

“That’s… I think that’s the spores talking, Eds.”

Something bubbles up in Eddie, something like anger, something like frustration. “It’s not. Didn’t you hear me, I’ve wanted this for weeks.”

The feeling ebbs and flows. He’s light headed. He’s dizzy. All the blood in his body is rushing to his cock. He’s throbbing in his fucking jeans, leaking, the front of his boxers wet with precome. He palms himself again, little whines escaping him very much without his permission.

Steve tries to tug him along, but yanks his hand back as soon as it makes contact with Eddie’s skin. Like he’s been burned.

Eddie’s feeling faint again, wobbly. He’s stumbling along and tripping over branches and vines and it’s like he’s back there, back in the Hawkins beneath Hawkins that Supergirl and Hop and Will swore was closed to them for good and the fear grips him again.

“Eddie!” Steve is saying, clapping his hands in front of Eddie’s face and whoa - Eddie’s on his back. He doesn’t know how he got there. He isn’t even sure he can get up at this point because everything is spinning.

Above him Steve looks like a Greek god or an angel, the sun behind him peeking through the canopy to give him a golden halo.

“I’m flattered. Can you get up?”

Eddie doesn’t know. Everything around him is bathed in color. It’s all swimming and shifting, and Steve’s face is glowing. Almost sparkling. Vaguely, Eddie thinks of the time he tried mushrooms with Grant and they laid out in Grant’s backyard to watch the shifting clouds. They’d been out there for so long the clouds gave way to stars and he and Grant had laughed and laughed and laughed at the shapes they’d made above them.

This is kinda like that.

Except mushrooms with Grant hadn’t had Eddie’s cock hard as stone and straining the zipper of his jeans.

He lets Steve help him to his feet and his skin buzzes everywhere they touch. He tumbles into Steve, off balance, and Steve catches him in those big, strong arms of his. They’re pressed against each other like this and, humiliatingly, Eddie can’t stop himself from dragging his cock up the hard line of Steve’s thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears himself moan, and Steve’s hands tighten in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt where he’s holding him up.

“We have to get you out of here,” Steve says, and Eddie thinks he’s mostly saying it to himself at this point because Eddie’s ears are full of cotton. He can hear Steve and he can understand him, but just barely. His head’s never been this foggy before, not even with the smelliest, stickiest pot Rick’s got to offer.

Everything goes fuzzy as Steve drags him through the underbrush toward the car.

He runs into the passenger side door of the car at top speed, the door panel bringing him to an abrupt stop as… something crashes over him.

“Oh, ohhhh fuck,” he hears himself whine. His eyes roll back, the orgasm ripping through him with the force of a fucking freight train, and his knees begin to tremble.

Eddie slides into the car and for a brief, miraculous moment, his head is clear enough to form actual coherent thoughts. He just came, un-fucking-touched, when he slammed full force into the car.

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he’s muttering, the front of his jeans damp and uncomfortable. Steve’s getting in the driver’s seat, looking at him a little funny, and Eddie’s face is hot with his shame at what just happened.

His cock is still hard though, still tenting his fly, obvious and unignorable. “You alright?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay for now.. Get me… somewhere, before I cum again.”

“Again?” Steve asks, his eyes wide as he stares at Eddie’s erection.

“Yes, Steve, again. Please just… not the trailer. Can we please go to your place? I need a shower. I need…”

I need to get fucked, is what he doesn’t say, but it hangs there anyway, like a living thing between them, because it’s beginning to dawn on them both now, the reality of the situation. That flower spat some really powerful aphrodisiac on Eddie, in his face, right up his nasal cavity where it’s taken root firmly in his brain matter.

“We need to get Hopper on the line,” Steve mutters. “Maybe Owens, too.”

“We are not calling Hopper. Or Owens, or anybody until this is over. Or until it looks like I might actually cum myself to death.”

“So how do we handle it?”

Things are getting hazy again, all of Eddie’s blood rushing back down to his groin to pool there and make him even harder than he already was. He presses his hand there, unable to stop himself, his head thrown back against the headrest as he thrusts and rocks his hips up into the friction, and just as he begins to realize what he’s doing - fucking jerking off right here in Steve’s car - it hits him again, the warm splash of his release in the confines of his boxers to mix with his previous orgasm. He shakes with it, his voice coming out in these strange little whimpers with each spurt.

“Oh, Jesus.” Steve’s voice sounds choked, strangled, distracted, and Eddie lets his head loll to the side to look at him. Steve is very clearly trying not to look, trying to keep his eyes on the road where they’re supposed to be, but he takes the turn into Loch Nora a little too hard and it knocks Eddie into the door again, the window knob digging into his knee, but fuck, at least he doesn’t cum all over himself again.

There’s sweat pooling in the divots of Eddie’s collarbones, the back of his neck. His hairline is damp with it and he feels like he can’t draw a complete breath with the heat and humidity in the car.

“Can you turn on the air, man, I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here.”

“Air’s up, Eds. Windows are down, it’s like in the fifties out there.”

“Fuck, man, I’m a mess,” Eddie hears himself chuckle. There’s no humor in it. This might well be it for him. He might actually be doomed to nut himself to death, right here in Steve Harrington’s car.

But then they’re pulling into Steve’s drive and Eddie is tumbling out of the car onto the concrete beneath, hauling himself to stand, a little wobbly on his shaking knees, as he makes the trek to the front door. He’s still gotta wait for Steve, though, and he stands there at the locked door, leaning against it as Steve fumbles the keys in his hand to get it unlocked to usher Eddie inside.

When the door closes behind them it’s like a dam breaks. Eddie presses Steve to the doorframe and kisses him, hungry and desperate, like he can’t stop himself from getting Steve's skin on his own.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into Steve’s mouth, uncertain he’s even forming words. “Fuck, Stevie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this but I need you. I need this now. I think I might actually die if I don’t have you… that flower, Stevie, it did something to me.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is firm, certain, decisive, and it makes Eddie tremble. “Okay, what do you need?”

“You,” he says again. He’s not sure how else to convey the severity of just how badly he needs this, of the urgency curling in his gut at the idea that he might not be able to have everything the way he needs it. “Touch me.”

Steve touches him. Steve’s hand presses against his straining fly and Eddie erupts, his head damn near exploding with the force of it. He ruts against Steve’s hand as he paints the inside of his pants with a third orgasm. There’s no way he should even have anymore in there. There’s no way it’s safe for one person to produce this much spunk in such a short amount of time but as he’s coming down Eddie comes to a realization:

In the scant few moments of clarity between an orgasm and the next wave of arousal, he is able to think. He’s drained, getting more and more exhausted with each release, but he thinks he knows what the solution here is.

“We need to fuck,” he says, impressed with the evenness of his own voice around the druggy haze of whatever the flower’s done to him. “I can’t put my finger on how I know that but it’s like… I get really horny, I can’t think, I cum, and then for like two minutes I’m fine. You need to fuck me until it’s over.”

“This is going to actually kill you, Eddie. We really should call Owens.”

“Absolutely not. Let’s just try it.”

“That’s the spores talking.”

“Maybe! But, like… what else could it be? That thing spit some sort of… sex spore on me!”

“And what if it… I dunno, transfers to me or something?”

“Then we fuck until we die, baby!” Eddie’s voice comes out sounding a little hysterical, even to his own ears but he’s frantic. His fingers are tingling.

“You don’t want it like this, you already said!”

“No, but I may never get it at all if I die like this! And then how bad would you feel, huh? Sorry Wayne, Eddie died because I wouldn’t fuck him stupid when a demon flower got him all hot and bothered. Tough loss, after everything.”

Steve switches their positions, shoves Eddie back against the door and it knocks something loose in him again, any thoughts or words he’d hoped to convey just - whoosh - out the window with everything aside from his libido. He spreads his thighs and takes Steve by the belt loops to pull him into him. He’s dragging his cock over the front of Steve’s jeans, feels an answering hardness there despite Steve’s protests.

Steve, finally, is using those quick hands of his to get Eddie’s belt unbuckled, his jeans unzipped and down to pool on the floor at his feet.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he says, and Eddie whines. He doesn’t touch Eddie’s dick just yet, his fingers dipping into the sticky, cooling spend caked in his pubic hair and bringing it up into both their lines of sight. He presses his forefinger and thumb together and spreads them, a string of cum spreading between the two, and then he wipes it on Eddie’s cheek.

“Filthy,” he says, but his voice is so gentle, so affectionate that it very nearly hurts.

Eddie cums again, his cock twitching as he spills onto the floor at their feet. The sheer volume of it should be concerning - it is a little bit - but it takes a backseat to the way Steve is looking at him, hunger in his eyes now as he begins to realize, maybe, that this could be fun.

“You’re really okay with this?” Steve asks. “Us? Like this?”

“More than okay, Stevie. Been tryin’ to get you in bed for weeks.”

The white noise takes over his senses again and he pitches forward, curling in on himself because this time it hurts, his stomach twisting into knots and his cock straining and so hard he thinks it might actually fucking explode if he doesn’t get some fucking relief. His skin goes clammy and he’s having trouble staying planted on his feet, something in his head is splitting open and it’s all he can do to not pass out.

He’s clutching Steve’s forearm, the muscles there shifting and flexing beneath his grip, and it’s like the fog was so close to clearing he could almost taste it but now he’s having trouble stringing one thought into two let alone forming coherent words. He wails, can barely hear himself over the kssshhhhhh of television static in his brain, and Steve helps him out of his jeans and up the stairs.

He’s not sure how they even make it but before Eddie knows it he’s on his back atop Steve’s mattress, the sheets beneath him cool and smooth, a balm to his too-tight skin.

“Can you be good for me?” Steve asks him.

“I can be anything you need me to be,” Eddie tries to tell him, but what comes out is something closer to a long, drawn out whine of Steve’s name.

“Spread.”

Eddie does. He plants his feet on the mattress and spreads his legs as far as he can for Steve to see him, take him in, fucking pound him into the mattress already, Christ. The mattress dips as Steve crawls toward him on his knees, shedding his shirt along the way. His fucking jeans are still on but they’ll deal with those later. Right now Eddie is zeroed in on those fuckin’ paws of his, desperate to get those hands on his skin, on his cock, whole fucking fist in his ass if Steve would be so fucking kind.

Steve is up off the bed now, scrambling in the drawer beside it, rustling around in there like he’s searching for something and Eddie’s head is pounding, a headache that creeps around his eyes and into his spine and leaves him even more breathless than before. But then the bed dips again and Steve is there with a bottle of lube and a condom and he’s saying something, his words lost in the white noise between Eddie’s ears.

Steve gets a finger inside him, and everything goes utterly silent. The heat remains, the clawing arousal remains, the painful stiffness of Eddie’s neglected cock remains, but the white noise is gone. He can hear Steve now, his stream of consciousness telling Eddie exactly what he’s doing, asking him if he’s okay and Eddie feels himself nod. He's keening, whining, moaning as he fucks himself on that single finger inside him and he’s already craving more of it. He needs two fingers, needs to get his cock inside Steve’s perfect fucking mouth.

And that’s exactly what he gets. Maybe he said it out loud again, begging for more of Steve in his delirium, maybe Steve just knew, is able to read Eddie like the open book he tries so, so hard not to be. Either way, Steve’s mouth is hot and wet as it engulfs him, the stretch of two fingers shoving into his hole stinging in the most perfect way. Eddie arches, shoves himself down the back of Steve’s throat and the noise it elicits is filthy and beautiful, the feeling of his throat fluttering around the head of his cock with a gag bringing Eddie oh, so briefly back to himself to relish it, just a little, before the delirium pulls him back under.

He’s being so loud, never heard himself make these sounds before but Steve seems to be enjoying it. For just a second, as Eddie lifts his head from the pillow that smells of sleep and Steve and vanilla shampoo, Eddie can see Steve’s hand down the front of his jeans, the bulge of that cock he’s been dreaming of for weeks obvious and prominently erect.

“Fuck me,” Eddie hears himself say. “Please, pleaseplease Stevie.”

Instead, Steve bullies a third finger into his hole and takes his cock deep in his throat again. Something snaps, and Eddie cums, spilling down Steve’s throat and squeezing his fingers so hard he’s a little worried he might break them. The clarity that follows his orgasm is bright and heavy - the knowledge that Steve’s mouth and fingers have finally brought him off and he wasn’t even present enough to enjoy it… it stings a little, makes him just a little bit sad, but then Steve is shedding his jeans and his boxers and taking that big beautiful cock in his hand to stroke it.

“No condom,” Eddie says. “I think… I don’t think it would work. I think…”

I think I need you to cum inside me. He can’t say it, can’t force the words out, because his clarity is leaving him again and he shakes with a sob. It hurts - every time he gets off something in him fucking hurts so bad. There’s an understanding in him, something supernatural or magical or fucking something, that knows he needs to cum with Steve, at the same time, with one of them buried to the hilt inside the other, for this to end. And he needs it to happen now because there are knives in his body, cutting him up from the inside every time he cums without any real relief.

“I wanted this to be special,” Steve is saying, and Eddie can only just hear him past that old ringing in his ears.

He wants to respond, wants to reassure Steve that it’s okay, that this doesn’t count, really, that they can make it special next time, tomorrow morning maybe, after the spores have worn off and he can think coherent thoughts again. He can’t. He doesn’t know words anymore, thinks he might have forgotten the English language an hour ago, a day ago. How long has this been going on?

He sobs again, this time with the urgency to get Steve inside him. Please. Please. Please. He’s hot all over, burning up inside, his stomach tearing itself apart and his heart pounding so fucking hard it might actually burst through his ribs.

Eddie hauls himself over, flipping to his front to get his knees up under him, presents himself to Steve like that. Like this, like this, hard. He’s not sure the words make it out of him but god, Steve understands anyway. He shuffles closer, his hands palming the cheeks of Eddie’s ass and spreading them. He’s just looking at him, not saying anything, and Eddie’s skin is singing beneath his touch.

“Hard,” Eddie says into the pillow, his words muffled. He turns, says over his shoulder, “Fuck me hard.”

Distantly, Eddie hears the lube pop open again, feels the slippery wetness coat his hole, Steve’s fingers dipping into him just so before swiftly leaving him again, and then Steve is there - the blunt head of him pressing and stretching him and entering him. It should hurt. There should be a burn to go with the stretch but instead it’s nothing but sweet, sweet relief.

Steve bottoms out with a deep groan in the back of his throat. Something within Eddie clicks into place, and Steve sets up a punishing rhythm, his hips making these little smack smack smack noises each time he sinks home again. Eddie feels so full, the drag of Steve inside him forcing his voice out in broken little whines as he claws at the sheets under his hands. He presses back to meet each brutal thrust. He’s babbling again, unsure of what he’s saying, hears himself chanting and crying out as the heat in him builds and builds.

Steve’s hands are everywhere - they ghost over the jagged scars on his hip and ribs, grip his shoulders tightly to drag him back onto his cock with force. The long line of Steve’s chest drapes over Eddie’s back suddenly, Steve’s mouth so close to his ear that Eddie can hear now just how ragged and fucked out he is, and Steve’s hand finds its way to Eddie’s throbbing, pulsing cock.

Steve strokes him once, twice, before that hand leaves to travel even lower. He squeezes Eddie’s balls, tugging harshly at them, and Eddie lifts his head to rub his cheek against Steve’s. He turns as much as he can, seeking his mouth, seeking a kiss from him. Steve bites him, his teeth sinking into Eddie’s bottom lip before sucking it wholly into his mouth.

Eddie spills onto the sheets with a sharp cry, panic rising in him as he oh, so briefly comes to his senses enough to know this isn’t over, that he’s still hard, still needs more of this. He’s not even finished coming, each spurt landing heavily on the bed beneath him, and he takes Steve’s mouth in a kiss again.

The harsh rhythm of Steve’s hips hasn’t slowed.

That hand glides even further back now, frames the place where their bodies meet between two of his fingers to feel the way Steve is fucking him. Eddie’s senses have left him again, all narrowed down to the sensation of touch, and all he can feel is the wet of Steve’s mouth, open against his own, the thick cock impaling him and taking, taking, taking.

Steve’s voice is growing sharper, little “Ah, ah, ah”s falling from his lips the closer he gets to his own release, and he hisses out a ragged, “Fuck,” before pulling out to squeeze himself at the base of his cock. He breathes through it. Eddie doesn’t even have enough time to find his bearings before he’s being flipped to his back.

Above him is Steve. Holy fuck. He’s damp with sweat, his skin glistening a little in the golden sunset light streaming in through the slotted blinds of the window. He’s gazing down at Eddie like he’s the magical one.

“You’re beautiful like this.”

Eddie hears it, when Steve says it. He feels it in his pores. Believes it, when Steve says it.

And then there’s Steve, lowering himself to lie across Eddie’s body. He guides himself forward and sinks perfectly inside.

Everything is quiet. There’s no buzzing in Eddie’s head anymore, no ringing in his ears. There’s just this: Steve’s ragged breaths as he bottoms out again, Eddie’s audible gulp at the burn of being so full in this position, a bird outside - mourning dove, maybe, something that coos low and deep.

Steve wanted something special. This feels special.

Still the heat doesn’t subside. Steve whispers that Eddie is burning up inside, that it’s almost too much, and then he rocks slowly back before pressing forward again and Eddie feels his eyes roll back in his head. Steve guides Eddie’s legs around his waist and he hovers over him, their faces so, so close to each other that Eddie can smell the beer and the pot on Steve’s breath. Eddie kisses him, and Steve laces their fingers together, holds his hand through the first round of slow, torturous thrusts of his hips.

“More,” Eddie whispers. “Deeper. It’s working.”

“How do you know?” Steve whispers in return.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

It’s slow like that, soft and gentle in a way that Eddie never once thought sex could be, each slide home dragging little sobs from Eddie’s lips and into Steve’s waiting mouth. Eddie is overcome with it, with the simplicity of this, but after a while it’s not enough anymore and the knives in his gut are back.

“More, I need more.”

“You’re doing so well,” Steve breathes, the pace of his hips picking up speed as Eddie arches beneath him. “You feel so good. You’re so…” he moans, “oh, god, you’re so good for me.”

Eddie is coming back to himself, gradually, for real this time. He’s got the presence of mind to actively move with Steve, to rock with him, match his rhythm, bring him deeper with every thrust of his hips. Steve takes his lips in another kiss, and Eddie opens for him. It’s a real kiss, a proper one, like so many that they’ve shared before, and that’s what seems to break Steve. He holds Eddie’s face in his hands, pulling back to look at him.

“There you are,” he whispers, almost reverent. “There you are.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Stevie.”

“Thank god.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, give it to me. I can take it.”

“Well I can’t,” Steve groans, laughing at himself a little. “You’re so fuckin’ hot inside, Eds. Gonna burn me up.”

But Steve sits up. He gets his knees under himself and under Eddie’s ass. Hooking his elbows under each of Eddie’s knees, he folds him in half. Eddie didn’t even know he could fuckin’ bend like that but the change in position does something, shifts something inside Eddie and he arches with it. His eyes roll back as his vision goes fuzzy, Steve driving into him with a kind of force he hadn’t expected.

The delirium washes over him again in waves. Colors swim in his vision. Steve begins to glow again, a little bit. There’s a wub wub wub in Eddie’s ears that drown out even the wet slap of their skin coming together as Steve fucks into him. Eddie’s not sure if the sounds coming out of him are euphoric giggles or fucked out whimpers but at this point either seems possible.

Vaguely, as if under water, he thinks he hears himself murmur, “I love you,” and Steve’s hips stutter a little with the declaration. Fuck. If that’s how Eddie goddamn tells Steve he loves him… Fuck. He reaches for Steve, drags him down and lets his body bend even further to kiss Steve again, will him to forget.

“More,” he pleads. “More. I love you. Fuck. Sorry.”

Against his mouth, Steve laughs. Eddie feels the shape of that laugh more than he hears it. What he does hear, though, is Steve’s response.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for months.”

“Stevie,” Eddie hears himself whine. “Close. Close, I’m close. This is gonna be it, oh god.”

The drive of Steve’s hips is wild. He’s frantic, urgent, chasing his own release. The delirium crashes into Eddie again, makes him cry out. It’s building and building to an absolute fever pitch now, very nearly fucked right out of him and when he blows this last time that’ll be it.

His cheeks are wet. Oh god, he’s fucking crying. Actually fucking sobbing as Steve fucks him hard and fast and relentless. Steve’s eyes are squeezed shut, focused on not coming too quick maybe, and thank fuck for that because there’s no way Steve wouldn’t stop if he knew Eddie was fucking crying with pleasure.

That final orgasm crashes into Eddie with the force of a meteorite. It’s a cataclysmic event. The kind of shit that could eradicate life. Maybe this is what killed the dinosaurs, Eddie thinks vaguely.

He shouts and tears at the sheets, hears them rip a little beneath his clawing fingers. There’s so much fucking cum. It’s boiling hot on his skin. He paints Steve’s chest with it somehow, and has just enough control over himself to drag his hand through it, scrape his fingernails through the mess of his chest hair and that’s what does it for Steve.

He drives deep, deeper than he has yet, his balls trapped, squeezed between their bodies. There’s a hot blooming sensation inside him as Steve fills him up with his release, and Eddie can feel Steve’s cock twitching inside him with each spurt.

“Fuck, oh fuck Eddie, holy shit.”

Slowly, Steve draws out of him, and Eddie winces. He feels empty. Empty, but satiated and relaxed. Beside him, Steve collapses onto his back.

Everything is so quiet in the aftermath. Eddie’s cock is finally going soft. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness, just a little nervous he might not wake up if he gives himself over to sleep. The poison is out. He knows it is. He’s coming down from it, the euphoria and delirium finally leaving him altogether.

He’s exhausted. His body fucking hurts.

But Steve is here. Steve is kissing him. Steve is murmuring love against his mouth, giving him praise, telling him he’s beautiful, telling him he’s good.

“Thought I was gonna lose you again. ‘M sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eddie says, breathless. “No apologies. You did…” he swallows, “you did exactly what I needed.”

“You were crying!”

“Good tears, I swear!”

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie at that but doesn’t fight him, and Eddie feels a smile creeping across his face.

“God, it feels so good to be able to think straight again.”

“Nothin’ straight about the way you think.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “True enough. C’mere. Wanna cuddle you for a minute before I try and get up.”

“Eds, you need a shower.”

“Need you more. We can shower after.”

He pulls Steve into him. He tangles their legs together and pushes Steve’s sweaty hair back from his face and just looks at him. He wants to apologize for getting too close to that fucked up flower, for forcing a situation that Steve might not have been ready for just yet.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You didn’t want to… I just… like, I know you wanted to eventually, but… I’m sorry you had to, like… do this. Today. Because of this. Because I was stupid and tried to touch a fucking demon flower I had no reason to fuck with.”

Steve sighs. “It would have gotten one of us either way, I think. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, Eds. I’ve been… I’ve wanted to, for weeks now. Months, maybe. I just wanted to make sure we were both… that we were on the same page before we did.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve’s fingers trail lightly over Eddie’s brow, as if mapping his face, committing it to memory. “I needed to know you loved me.”

“Of course I do.”

“I just fall really hard and really fast. You know? I didn’t wanna be there before you, do this, and then find out afterwards that we… that whatever this is is just… physical to you. I can’t have another relationship that revolves around sex.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Eddie sighs. “Well for what it’s worth, I’ve been struggling to not tell you how I feel for… Jesus, for months. Think I might’a fell for you that first time I saw you in the hospital, after everything was over.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiles. “Tell me about that.”

“Nah. Maybe another time. Let’s shower. This shit is starting to flake and I’m startin’ to get itchy.”

The shower is lukewarm. The shampoo is expensive, and smells of vanilla when Steve works it through Eddie’s hair. He groans at Steve’s fingers on his scalp, more relaxed than he’s been all day, maybe even in weeks. After washing his hair, Steve works out the tightness in Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie might fucking cry again.

“I didn’t expect to see you, in the hospital,” Eddie says quietly as Steve drags a washcloth over his skin. “Max had just woken up, too, and… I get it, I wasn’t upset about it at all. If I’d made it out the way everyone else did, I’d have been right there with you.”

Steve is quiet, the washcloth slowing its scrub across Eddie’s back as he listens.

“But there you were. You came in while they were changing my bandages and you… fuck, Steve, you looked like you hadn’t slept all week. You smiled. I think I was a goner right there.”

“You smiled first,” Steve tells him. “When you looked up and saw me. You smiled, even though the old bandages were sticking to you when they pulled them off. I never thought I’d see you smile again.”

“Were you a goner too Stevie?”

It’s meant to be teasing, but Steve says, “Yeah. Yeah, I was a fucking goner.”

“What took us so long, huh?”

“I don’t know. Glad we figured it out.”

When Eddie’s clean they switch positions, and Steve lets Eddie return the favor. He washes Steve’s hair and his body and he kisses him all over his face and neck, counting those perfect moles with his lips as he goes. The shower is nearly cold when they finally shut it off and step out onto the plush mat on the bathroom floor. Steve’s towels are soft.

It’s not until they get back to Steve’s bedroom that they realize what a mess they’ve made of the bed. Steve tosses a clean pair of underwear to Eddie from his own dresser and then they strip the sheets. It’s nice, doing this together. It’s soft and domestic and Eddie is entertaining the idea of someday. Someday they can maybe have this for real, the two of them and Robin and Vickie in a little place somewhere in the city.

Maybe he and Steve can have forever.

After the sheets are changed and the moon hangs heavy outside Steve’s bedroom window, they climb back into his bed and get back to kissing. There’s no rush here, no urgency, no need to take things any further than this.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve says later, startling Eddie just as he’s finally drifting off to sleep. “We forgot to call Owens.”

#steddie fic #bee's blurbs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month

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When I first saw this ultra modern 2010 home in Malibu, CA, my first thought was, "who is going to clean all of this metal and glass?" But, then when I saw the $57.5M price tag for the 5bd, 7ba home, I realized that if you can afford that much, you have a staff. Look at this place.

Approaching the entrance.

Here we are at the glass door. Oooh, look at the house statue.

The entrance hall.

See what I mean about the glass?

This is crazy. I don't even know how to navigate this home. The description says it's "feng shui inspired."

It's very open concept with the family/living room and kitchen combo.

Very modern kitchen with a wall of cabinets that goes from the kitchen to the living room. Open and airy, there's another sitting area with doors to a patio.

It all overlooks the Pacific Ocean.

All sorts of stairs and ramps lead to other floors.

Small corner sitting room that comes to a point.

We appear to be approaching another living area.

There's a rounded bedroom with a view of the ocean.

And, look at this. The Japanese soaking tub makes it look like you're in the ocean.

More catwalks and stairs.

Another bedroom suite with its own terrace.

So many levels.

Each bedroom is private with a terrace.

Gee, is this the good life, or what?

Wow, look at the setup in the music room.

Beautiful. I wonder if the outdoor art conveys.

Look at the private beach.

The home is gated with a security system.

.83 acre lot. I'm thinking maybe they didn't put in a pool for all that money, b/c the ocean is right there? But, still. A pool & the ocean are 2 very different things.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/41800-E-Pacific-Coast-Hwy-Malibu-CA-90265/16493848_zpid/?

#ultra modern architecture #modern homes #ultra modern homes #modern mansions #houses #home tour #house tours

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informalmajesty · 9 months

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Jimin is not being sabotaged by his own label

This tag used to be (mostly) fun and now all I see are large text posts pitting Jimin and JK against each other and, look, it’s not as complicated as many of you are making it out to be, nor is there some grand conspiracy to *checks notes* pit JK and Jimin against each other or *keeps checking notes* a SPECIFIC vendetta against ONLY Jimin, their artist who *scrolls scrolls scrolls through notes* went number 1 on Billboard.

So here is a large text post on the woes of American capitalism (yes. Really).

Here’s the reality

Billboard DID Sabotage Jimin

Let’s get the big sabotage that did happen out of the way — BILLBOARD (and friends. Will circle back to this) ARE RACIST SNAKES AND ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.

Billboard has a history of keeping Black artists off of the pop charts. One example, R&B was largely created as a separate chart to move a category of Black artists from the Hot 100 pop charts. It was a big deal—as (1) example—when Boyz II Men crossed over to the pop charts multiple times.

And then what happened? The American music industry caught up and started cranking out white boy bands that wrote and performed R&B but. Funny. Somehow it was now considered JUST pop on the H100 POP charts. They weren’t pushed immediately to R&B and had to work their way over.

This was considered R&B for the R&B charts that was a “crossover”

And this was considered mainstream pop that needed no crossover.

Yeah, Billboard have always been racist snakes.

So flash forward to 2023. We know they tried HARD to keep BTS from the H100. Going into Proof, BB limited digitals, reduced the weight on sales and upped weight on radio. Why? American music labels can control radio. They cannot control sales and it’s legally far more messy for them to do so.

But then. JIMIN happened.

ARMY got Jimin to H100 #1 with the rule change and the American music industry lost their collective shit.

Why do I say COLLECTIVE and not just Billboard? Well.

This is so essential to the punch line of this rant.

American capitalism only cares about its friends.

What does that mean?

I work in Silicon Valley. You want to know why there is a major diversity problem in Silicon Valley? Yes. There is explicit and obscene misogyny and racism, but the biggest problem is less explicit albeit just as systemic.

White men tend to hang out and befriend other white men already in their “circle.” When some rich person or VC firm’s buddy is like “hey I need money for this thing” they are like “yes, of course, buddy, here you go!!” And they get tons of cash without having to prove anything.

I will not say the startup I worked at but it’s valuation was in the billions and their funding was in the billions with NO product built yet. How they got those billions? A well known stunt performer was besties with the then CEO of a major major tech company and he said “hey bestie give my friend over here hundreds of millions of dollars.” And then this startup got hundreds of millions of dollars. Was there due diligence done? Absolutely. But would the CEO of a major tech company give a crap if his best dude didn’t vouch for the startup? No.

Humans are extremely relationally driven. Merit is basically bullshit. Merit is so so rarely considered in anything. Who are you friends with? That’s how most things are done.

So, Billboard has a lot of friends. Those friends are in major record labels. And those friends only care about making as much money as possible while retaining the status quo.

What goes against all of that? A group of non-white, non-American men that they make very little money from because their label is completely seated in a different country.

So when Like Crazy—a solo record by a Korean artist under a Korean label with a Korean songwriting team—comes in and dethrones FLOWERS, Columbia Records’ darling for the year (no hate to Miley or the song, it’s solid, love Miley), oh my god were they SEEING SOME RED.

The MONEY they PAID to see Flowers on top of radio, of playlisting, of cultural consciousness and a NON AMERICAN NON WHITE MAN just dethroned that.

My GUESS (I don’t know, also keep in mind BTS didn’t seem to have the friendliest exit from the Columbia distribution deal) is that Billboard’s BFFs at Columbia threw a fit. And Billboard responded by saying “of course, bestie, we’ll remove the problem.”

And there goes 100k sales in the next week. Deleted. Gone.

Who is going to call them on that? Hybe could propose an investigation, sure, but here’s the thing — it’s not illegal. Billboard didn’t break any law. It’s THEIR completely made up chart that they can change at any time depending on what labels want (this is how Wall Street works too, btw). Everything is made up to appease the same 50 white men. Bleak but true. Music industry is far from the exception.

Okay so moving forward — now we have Jungkook’s Seven coming out. And Billboard a week before release finally decides to tell us the rule they CREATED BECAUSE OF JIMIN (it’s a shitty rule of course but damn Jimin’s power)—D2C sales no longer count.

Jungkoook makes it to #1 anyway because ARMY is freaking amazing AND yes. Yes, Jungkook got more US promotion, help on Spotify, general promo, radio etc than Jimin.

BUT THIS DID NOT HAPPEN BECAUSE BIG HIT FAVORS JUNGKOOK AND SABOTAGED JIMIN

Remember — everything is determined by rich men in power and who they are friends with.

What did Jungkook do? He went to an American producer who is besties with Scooter Braun (Andrew Watt has worked with several of Scooter’s artists including Justin Bieber, namely on Peaches) who has power to contact his besties at Spotify and wherever else.

And what does going to an American producer unlock for Jungkook? A pop track highly likely to do well in America. So then what does Bang PD do? Recognize that because the dude is a billionaire and he likes money and he says (and we know he said this) “this is going to be a hit.” And there you go, you have the Seven marketing campaign that Like Crazy didn’t quite get.

This isn’t “oh my god BigHit / Hybe hates Jimin.” This is “Jungkoook took an easier, more commercial route.”

If Jimin wants to go get a song like Seven….he can go get a song from an American producer who is friends with the right people.

Instead he wanted to work on a personal project with Korean producers and it’s amazing and beautiful and also went number one and was also a huge success.

And Jungkook wanted this really great and incredibly commercial pop song.

Both are valid. Both are going to unlock different resources for the artist. And both Jimin and JK know this. They chose what they chose. That’s it. End of story.

As for Seven v LC album stock— stock is highly likely determined by basic predictive analytics models (exponential smoothing, maaybe a regression, maybe even something as simple as moving avg idk). LC was a sizable increase from Astronaut and other BTS singles. So then Seven likely adjusted to that increase. Again. That’s it guys. That’s literally it.

So can we please have the tag back and stop pitting JK and Jimin against each other and respect that Jimin chose to do a more artistic, personal project while JK (at least for now) did not?

If you want to be mad at something, be mad at American wealthy white men and their friends.

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #seven by jungkook #like crazy #jimin and jungkook

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akashis-waifu · 4 months

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An Eternity of Mind Games with You (Aizen Sousuke x Reader)

Canon-divergence one-shot, set years after TBYW. Female reader is the Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough. Your first name is "Hana" for plot-purposes.

Tags: Domestic!Aizen with usual sass, wholesome, fluff, cringe but we embrace it. Immortal x immortal, enemies struggling with new established co-dependency. This might seem slightly out of character, but we've got Kyoka Suigetsu to blame. Contains spoilers on the ending of TBYW and CFYOW!

"Oh please, dear wife."

You raise an eyebrow at your self-proclaimed husband. The two of you have only been together for a decade as Lord and retainer — co-rulers, if you squint hard enough — after Aizen Sousuke tricked you into absorbing the Hougyoku, which apparently had long merged with his spirit. In effect, the man became a part of the Soul King and is now able to use your authority, as long as you agree to it.

In return, you get to wield one of the greatest Zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu. You see it as an absolute win, the Central 46 doesn't.

As to why Aizen insists that you two are husband and wife, he argues that "A system where a man and a woman govern together is called monarchy. And it goes without saying that a King and a Queen are married." He seems to have put the cart before the horse, a very uncharacteristic blunder for the renowned war criminal. You simply guess that the fusion might have caused him brain damage.

"I swear, I haven't used Kyoka Suigetsu for a long time. There is literally no reason for you to act delusional."

He feigns to be hurt at your words. "You are the king, I am the queen. How can we not be married?"

"It's crazy how you easily admit to being the queen now." During your ascension, you had to repeatedly remind him that the Soul King was you. If he insisted on his god-complex-driven monarchy delusion, the Queen would be him.

Aizen shrugs. "As the human saying goes, let me cook."

Chills run down your spine. Something is wrong. "Maybe I'm the delusional one."

"Took you a long time to realize."

A shattering sound awakens you. After adjusting to reality, you glare at Aizen Sousuke who has successfully swiped the two Heavenly Tickets out of your hand.

"Please stop using Kyoka Suigetsu on me."

He chuckles mockingly. "You have a funny mind, I can't help it."

You try to take the tickets from him. Those are your mode of transportation to Seireitei! "It's Rukia's inauguration today. We really need to go!"

"You can go by yourself."

"I can't leave you here alone!"

Aizen smiles. He knows that it is a matter of distrust — that he might destroy the Soul Palace in your absence — but teases you nonetheless. "What a caring wife you are."

"Is the illusion not over yet?"

"My apologies. I'm simply not in the mood to head to Seireitei today," he explains briefly, before turning around. "Feel free to go without me."

You watch with curious eyes as Aizen leaves the room. He has undoubtedly mellowed out compared to 10 years ago. Memories flash through your mind.

At the end of the war, you were supposed to absorb Yhwach, become the Soul King, and be sacrificed as the new linchpin of the Three Realms. If Aizen hadn't given you the Hougyoku that granted your divinity as the Soul King, you wouldn't have gained the authority to banish Hyosube Ichibe.

If it weren't for Aizen, you would've been mutilated into a thoughtless doll. You may not express it, but you are eternally grateful to him.

Standing at the edge of the Soul Palace, you stare at the boundless sky below. It is almost time for your departure.

"He tells me to go by myself, but he knows I hate jumping all the way down to Soul Society. He could have at least returned my ticket to me." You sigh and jump anyway.

Upon arriving at Seireitei, you use Kyoka Suigetsu to disguise yourself as a white butterfly. You dispel the Shikai after reaching the 13th Division.

"Hana-san! Ah, I mean, Soul King!" Kuchiki Rukia hastily corrects herself. She then invites you to a celebratory dinner and you spend some time with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

The party ends late. Rukia offers the Kuchiki residence for you to spend the night in, but you decline, worried that someone might wreak havoc in your palace if left alone for too long.

She suggests to escort you to Shiba Kuukaku's hideout, aware that you would need the cannon to return to the Soul Palace. Still, you refuse, "No no! No need. It's already late, Rukia, go to sleep. I usually disguise myself as a harmless butterfly when I go around Seireitei to avoid unnecessary attention. Don't worry!"

On the way to the hideout, you feel that you're being followed. You instantly regret declining her offer.

When Aizen finds you in the middle of Seireitei, you are already bleeding from a large cut on your torso. He rushes to your side and activates the Hougyoku to accelerate your healing. As if to laud his effort, you soon regain consciousness.

"Aizen...?" you ask, vision still blurry. "What are you doing here? I... I thought you didn't want to go."

"You're not adept at using Kyoka Suigetsu yet. An incident like this is bound to happen."

"I see," you chuckle weakly. "No wonder she saw through my disguise."

His grip on your shoulder tightens. "Who was it?"

"Candace."

"Candace?"

You cough out blood multiple times and reach out to caress his cheek, as if ready to utter your last words — which would be if he doesn't take the joke lightly.

"Can deez nuts."

Aizen deadpans. A shattering sound takes him out of his reverie, and he looks over his shoulder to see you fiddling with the tickets that he had previously hidden in his sleeves.

Of course, the whole farce was an illusion. He should've known since the Hougyoku grants instant regeneration. He sighs in annoyance. "I'd like to take the Hougyoku back. You're too insufferable."

"Is that a request for divorce?"

He smirks. "So, you acknowledge our marriage."

"Hell no!" You click your tongue, frustrated that he always has the perfect comebacks. "Can't you act normal for once? What happened to Aizen Sousuke, the war criminal?"

"You prefer that version of me?" He pushes his hair back. You aren't used to that sight since he always has his hair down when you're alone together.

You visibly cringe. "Stop doing that. What would you do if people recognized you?"

"We're using Kyoka Suigetsu. From their perspective, we are nothing but butterflies attracted to beautiful flowers basking in the moonlight."

You frown at him. "We're literally walking on concrete. Not a single flower can be found here."

"There is."

Aizen raises your chin, staring directly into your eyes. "Hana."

Too stunned to speak, you allow yourself a moment to think.

You finally understand why Aizen was so popular when he was still with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. His strength, intellect, charisma — the sultry voice and handsome features that you will never admit to his face — he used everything at his disposal to manipulate everyone.

It will never work on you, though. Not today, nor in a million years.

You are good, he is evil. You are yang, he is yin.

You are pure, he is corrupted.

The Soul King can never let Aizen Sousuke dye Her in his color, for that would mean the end of the Three Realms.

You give him a thin smile. "Would you like the Hougyoku back? I can hand it to you now."

"Oh, you jest." Aizen feels the sudden shift in mood and lets you go. That's enough teasing, he muses to himself.

With an eternity to look forward to, he doesn't mind biding his time. You are the Soul King, the strongest, most benevolent, and most dangerous being in the Three Realms. It goes without saying that you are the greatest challenge he will ever face. It could take hundreds or thousands of years — even millions — but he knows that you will submit to him one day.

It's not a matter of if, but when.

You extend a hand at him. "Let's go home, Sousuke."

But, he has to make sure you don't win him over first.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen x reader #bleach imagines #bleach tybw #also posted this in Ao3 #I WAS POSSESSED BY KYOKA SUIGETSU WHEN I WROTE THIS I APOLOGIZE #i'm also sorry for the person i'd become when they animate “welcome to my soul society” in TYBW #AWOO AWOOOOO #it's bleach #aizen sosuke

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t00thpasteface · 6 months

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hey sorry i’m sure it’s a little dumb but how did you find a community/make mutuals on here? i swapped from twitter to here last year & haven’t been able to make friends like i did on twitter ;v; sorry if this is all silly but figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. love your art & blog !!!

as i like to say, it's like lifting an anvil: it's very simple, but that doesn't mean it's easy. as someone who's a 12+ year veteran that lurked for a couple years and remade a little while ago, really it all comes down to putting yourself out there!!! don't just sit around twiddling your thumbs and lurking. it's tough to do it without coming off as a pandering tryhard, but honestly as long as you're polite, upbeat, and posting regularly, then you're golden.

if you want a big list of wordy bullet points, here's what i've got, and i think you'll find it's pretty applicable to basically any site/community you want to get involved in:

post a lot. this is number one with a fucking bullet! POST! POST LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. but crucially...

post GOOD STUFF. don't bash yourself in the caption/tags, don't say "sorry this is shit" or whatever, don't self-deprecate, and don't admit to posting low-effort stuff just to hit a quota. imagine it's open mic night and go crazy. this is a good site to use like a journal and a scrapbook, but if you want to actually get some traction, you need to bring something interesting to the table. of course, just being funny and nice goes a very long way.

encourage audience feedback. people LOVE to tell you about themselves and give their opinions. get them responding and make the questions and calls for engagement so interesting or fun they can't help themselves.

tag effectively. use both fandom/content tags for searches, and organizational tags for your visitors' use. the tagging system is tumblr's bread and butter, so make it work for you.

follow a lot of blogs you like. then see who they follow, and add those to the list. build a good circle of engagement and keep your finger on the pulse of the site culture for whatever niche(s) you're in... or want to get in.

reblog a lot and be funny/kind in the tags. generally leaving a lot of comments/replies to post is kind of hit-or-miss, but tags are a good harmless "inside voice" to use that doesn't clutter the post itself and yet still engages with op and people seeing the post

engage with people when they ask for engagement. things like polls, ask games, etc... scratch people's backs and they'll scratch yours. and it's just a nice thing to do regardless :)

panhandling is not always the best route. people will balk if you look desperate or openly beg for engagement, like directly asking people to reblog something or being passive-aggressive about how much engagement you are/aren't getting on something. a genuine joke about it is fun and relatable, but snarky comments just kill the vibe and scare people off.

REMEMBER THERE'S NO ALGORITHM. lurking will not put you or any of the stuff you like out there!! REBLOG POSTS! SEND ASKS! this site will NOT SPOON FEED YOU ANYTHING. like taming a wild stallion, you can make this work for you, but you have to put in the effort first.

some people will think you're annoying, and that's okay. probably not very many, but they'll be loud. this is an unavoidable part of Being Known. you can be the sweetest peach in the world but there'll still be people who just don't like peaches. don't take it to heart, and if you do happen to drop the ball or rub a few people the wrong way, don't let that keep you from trying again :)

i've enjoyed the many friends i've made on this site in the past decade-and-then-some, even though both this site and my blog are both something of a ship of theseus. here's hoping you can make it work for you and your interests, too!

#shebbz shoutz #ask

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romana-after-dark · 7 months

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Blessed be the Fruit: Chapter 3

Commander!Joel Miller x Handmaid!Reader

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Summary: You begin to realize everything is not as it seems in the Miller households.

AN: Sorry this is kinda a boring chapter but I felt I needed to do some building. Next chapter we will start getting debatched lololol but I wanted to focus more on Ellie if that makes sense?

Content and Warnings: DARK JOEL! DUB CON!

Although no violent rape happens like in TWW, reader is under systemic misogyny and a society of ritualized sex abuse. Everything other than the violent rape scenes, everything that happen in either The Handmaids Tale book or show are liable to happen here including but not limited to discussion of rape, child abuse, child marriage, ritualized sexual abuse, sexual abuse in general, acts of violence, major character deaths, mentions of miscarriage but never shown and never pregnancies we know of. Big ole homophobia warning, specifically in regards to lesbophobia. As for Joel, PIV sex, breeding kink, degrading (slut, whore etc but thing like Raider!joel) forced breeding and breeding kink, power dynamics, Joel is not the good guy but he’s also not the worst, slightly rough sex but not violent. Warnings are liable to be added as the story goes but I’ll always update. As always if I miss something please tell me, but i extensively label my warnings and in the end media consumption is your own choice. If you would like to know if this is a happy ending or not you can message me and I’ll tell you that way I don’t spoil for everyone but you can decide if this is for you.

Immersability: Reader has long hair, can conceive children theoretically. At one point, she has to pose as Ellie's mother and I know this can be loaded in terms of skin tone. I am no genetics expert but I know dark skinned parents can have white passing children, like Lional Richie and Nicole Richie. It's up to you to see if this is going to take you out of the story or not.

Only additional warning I can think of is sexualization of a minor but it's not from either of our Miller brothers.

Support writers, reblog and leave comments!

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Elizabeth was watching you in the doorway as you kneaded bread. All day she had been lurking in corners and hallways, eyeing you with that intense stare.

“Can I help you, Miss Miller?” You ask her, never daring to look away from your task. Like wild animals, eye contact could be seen as a challenge, and the wild, abrasive girl was not someone you wanted to test.

Looking around, Elizabeth checks the surroundings before scurrying up to you. “Did he hurt you?” She said, scanning the expanse of your body despite nothing but hands and neck being visible.

A flush creeps up that you attempt to stifle as you think of last night, of Commander Miller stuffing himself down your mouth, but the concern in Elizabeth's eyes softened you. “No, he didn’t.”

She took your word rather quickly. It was clear that although she seemed to know her father was capable of harm, she was ready to push that thought away whenever possible. “Okay. good. I know that old man can get a little crazy.” She chuckles a little bit in a nervous manner as she looks up at you and hesitantly you smile back. She was something else.

“You can relax a little, you know. With me anyway.”

You smile, but don’t acquiesce. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Miss Miller.”

“You don’t have to call me Miss. Miller. Ellie, preferably. Miss Ellie if you really need to.”

Brave girl. You suppose that’s what happens when you have strong protection of a man like Commander Miller. “You’re the firstborn daughter, Miss Miller is appropriate.”

“Not the first born daughter, actually”

Oh, that was new. There was no reason you would know this information, know any information on the Miller family really. “Oh” was all you could manage.

“My mom and dad had a daughter before. You can’t say anything about it, my parents barely talk about it. I only found out because Gina was drinking a few years ago. I got in trouble at school and she drunkenly told me that Sarah would never have done this, blah blah blah.” She rolled her eyes, but her downcast face shows her genuine hurt. “I asked who Sarah was, she told me that was her daughter, actually her daughter before the handmaid system. She died from a terrorist attack, that’s all I know.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You were. Both of the death of the young Miller child and of how cruel Elizabeth’s mother was. The girl was privileged in many ways to be sure, but she was still a victim of Gilead as much as anyone and with her mouth, will be lucky to survive her 30’s. Commander Miller must know this, of course.

She shrugged. “It’s whatever.” She watched you braid the bread to get it ready to rise. “You’re not going to tell anyone about last night, are you?” Her voice suddenly sounded so young, vulnerable. She is just a teenager after all, no matter her rank.

“No, Miss Miller.”

A sigh of relief. “Oh thank gooood”

Your eyes widen at her taking the lord's name in vein, but she brushes you off, waving her hand. “Oh please, I’ve been questioning this shit since I was a kid. That’s how I got this bad boy.” She points to her face, the scar that cuts into her eyebrow.

Could Commander Miller… no, he wouldn’t hurt her, would he? You’ve seen how protective he was of her… did she get disciplined at school?

Your questioning look must have been obvious, so Elizabeth clarifies, seeming eager for someone to talk to. From what you could tell, Riley was her only friend. Too old for the kids, too unmarried for the wives. She spoke with pride. “When I was 10, I told Gina I wanted to be a commander. Gina told me girls can’t be commanders, I said I wanted to be the first. We went back and forth for a while, eventually I said I didn’t care about gods plan, I didn’t want to have kids…” She brushed back her hair she had down. Out of regulation. “Gina backhanded me, her wedding ring cut my eye.”

You never liked Gina. Wives weren’t someone to be liked, they were to be respected… but now you didn’t have that for her either. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” She wore her scar like a badge of honor.

“What did the Commander do?”

“You can just call him Joel to me.”

Now that made you laugh. “No way.”

“Can you at least call me Ellie? I hate being called Miss Miller.”

You sigh. “Fine, but only when it’s just us.”

She grinned at that. “Anyway, I ran out of the house and to my uncle Tommy’s. Gina doesn’t like Tommy and neither does Tommy’s wife, Deborah. Deb and Gina were yelling at Uncle Tommy that this wasn’t his business, Uncle Tommy yelling that I was his niece so it was his business, I was bleeding, it was a whole thing.” Ellie chuckled, clearly hiding the trauma with humor. It was not lost on you that she called her mom Gina. “Dad was gone on business that night so he took me to the hospital and I stayed with him that night until dad came back. He was so goddamn mad.” She chuckled at the memory. Only reason he didn’t hit her right there is I begged him not to. He told her if she ever laid a hand on me again, she’d end up on the wall.”

You knew this wasn’t the point, but something of the idea that Commander Miller was so protective of his daughter was… endearing? Turned you on? Both?

“He seems like a good dad.” You spoke honestly, setting the bread to rise.

“He’s fine, I guess.” Ellie jokes. “Won’t teach me how to read though. Says he’s worried I’ll read something I shouldn’t and get caught.”

As you clean up, you feel her eyes still on you. “Yes?”

“Did you learn how to read before?”

How old did she think you were? “Well, not at school-” You were about to tell her your mom did when she jumped in excitement.

“So you know??”

“Yes, but-”

“Can you teach me?”

“Ellie! No way! You dad will kill me!”

“No he won’t!” She whines. “I’ll make sure of it-”

“No.”

“Yup. You’re teaching me.”

That makes you turn around, facing the insolent girl with more determination. “I said no.”

“I’ll pick the lock to my dads office, I’ll steal some shit. He won’t even notice.” She began walking away.

“El-” When she walks out, you shut your mouth quickly as Lisa walks in and avert your eyes.

She speaks in a warning, taking the bread you were tasked with and setting it aside. “Don’t let the girl fool you. She’s not your friend. She’s got no filter and I’m willing to bet she’d throw you under the bus to save her own skin. That’s not an insult, but she is still a child no matter what Gilead says.”

“Yes ma’am”

She hesitates before relaying her message. “Commander Miller wants to see you tonight.” When you look up to her with a questioning glance, she cut you off. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

The less you know, the better.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood outside Commander Miller’s door, trying to knock, but you couldn’t do it. Commander Miller was intimidating, and after last night, he told you he wasn’t going to waste a single drop of his cum on your mouth again…

You didn’t need to knock, Commander Miller opened the door. He seemed so different from the man you had seen last night in this very room; he was calm, collected. This was the Commander Miller you’d known before.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” He gestured inside his office and you carefully scampered inside. When Joel closed the door, you braced yourself, wincing when he steps away from the archway. He seems to notice. “Sit down.” Commander Miller gestured to the couch, and when you sat down on the couch you expected him to lay you down, but instead he sat on the couch across the coffee table.

“You tell anyone about my daughter?”

Eyes wide, you attempt to placate what you felt was an oncoming storm. “No! No promise, please-”

Commander Miller raises a hand to hush you. “I know. I doubt you would.” He watches you for a while with that intense stare, hard eyes on you before sighing gruffly and sinking further in the chair. Arms crossed in contrast to his spread legs, black pants and a white button down; far more casual than she’d seen a man other than your husband and lover since childhood. Frozen in fear, you hand pry your gaze from his face and take in his features. Strong, alkalinen nose was always the first thing that caught your attention. He was commanding, but his soft eyes endeared trust. It was no wonder he was one of the earlier leaders of the Sons of Jacob. Commander Miller was a natural leader.

“Relax, will you?” Commander Miller brings you back to reality. You don’t respond, so he sighs, standing up as your eyes follow him. “Drink?” He asks.

This must be a trap. “No, thank you.” Handmaids weren’t allowed to drink.

Commander Miller chuckles and mutters a low “Good girl.” but sets a drink down in front of you anyway. Good girl… the term of endearment settled low in your stomach… maybe you were a harlot after all, so easy… “You aren’t pregnant, so drink if you want.” He grabs his own drink and returns to his seat after grabbing a few items off his shelves. Books and magazines. “Listen, nothing’s happen’n tonight. You aren’t ovulating so theres no point. Let’s just… get to know each other better. I think that will make this whole arrangement less stiff.”

“This whole arrangement?”

He points his finger up and gives it a twirl, signifying the household. “All of this. I never asked for a handmaid, so I’m not exactly thrilled.”

A small, nervous laugh escapes you. “You’re not thrilled?” Immediately you regret your attitude but Commander Miller huffs a laugh.

“I suppose you did get the short end of the stick on this arrangement.” He concedes. Still fearful, you try to keep the pose of a submissive handmaid.

“I am honored to at the opportunity for penance, Commander Mill-”

But Commander Miller waved your words away with a flick of his hand. “Joel is fine.” When he saw you about to protest, he cut you off yet again. “Joel.” He insisted. “I know my daughter’s tryna get you to call her Ellie, that’s okay too. Just don’t tell Gina.”

Commander- Joel, Joel spent the next two hours trying to get to know you here and there. He let you look at the old women’s magazines you remember your mother reading v early on and when he saw you actually reading, he allowed you to browse the bookshelves. It was dangerous, all of it, but surely this was common… Surely the commanders, wives and children broke molds sometimes… it was only human to want a connection.

And you wanted a connection. You couldn’t help but fall into him just a little bit

There was a big dinner being held tonight, all of the Miller’s family and friends were attending, some of which you knew. Angela had been sent over to help prepare so as to not leave it all to Lisa, so you and her were chopping vegetables for the salad that would be served shortly.

“Angela?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“The other day…” You look around the kitchen… empty… still, you speak quietly. “You called the younger Commander Miller…” another pause to check. “Tommy?”

Angela smiled and chuckled. “Yeah, I did. What about it?”

“Well… are you… and Commander Miller…” You lean in to whisper. “Outside of the ceremony?”

She turned to you, curious. “Did your Commander Miller” She mimicked your whisper. “Outside of the ceremony?”

You nod.

“I was wondering how long it would take. These men are all the same.”

A sigh of relief. “So it’s not just me.”

“No, not at all. It’s very common.”

Family began to arrive as you and Angela set up the table. Mr. and Mrs. Jones arrived along with her father and mother. Riley and Ellie attempted to run off together but Gina snapped at Ellie to socialize in the parlor. The younger Commander Miller arrived with his wife, Deborah, a mousey looking woman who never looked pleased to be here. A few others trickled in, including a man about the age of the younger Miller who Mrs. Miller promptly introduced to Ellie.

“Commander Bedford, this is my daughter, Elizabeth, a friend of Mrs. Jones.” She glared at Ellie until Ellie curtsied.

Gina may not have noticed the man learning at Ellie, but Ellie sure did. “Do you know my dad?”

Commander Bedford began to speak. “Yes of course, but we actually have another connection, I’m your friend Riley’s uncle, I just moved back to the area, actually. I remember meeting you a few times when you were just a child.”

Disgusting.

“Bedford!” A booming voice came from the other side of the room. Thomas Miller. “How the hell are yuh!”

Gina chastised him, but Commander Miller paid no mind. At first it appeared as if Thomas was merely friendly greeting an old friend, but the subtle way he placed himself in front of Ellie was clear to you.

“Tommy, good seeing you.” Bedford seemed less than pleased.

“How did things go in Chicago- oh, I suppose the women don’t need to hear about this.” He chuckles.

“I suppose not.”

“Ellie sweetie, why don’t you go show Riley that painting you’ve been working on, the one you showed me last week?”

Ellie jumped at the chance, finding Riley and running away from the crowd.

“Actually, Bedford, will you excuse me and Mrs. Miller for a moment? Joel’s birthday is coming up and we have to find a way to annoy him.”

Impressive. Bedford excused himself, and when Tommy turned to Gina, his voice was suddenly darker. “If Joel wanted her with a 40 year old man, he would have arranged a marriage months ago. Stay in your place.”

Gina didn’t back down. “My place as her mother is to find her a match.”

“You don’t care about a fuck’n match or her, you just want her out of your hair. Now knock it off before I tell Joel.”

That was enough to shut her up. You moved on to the wine cabinet to look for the wine Mrs. Miller wanted tonight, but as you are looking, Thomas Miller was suddenly leaning against the wall. “Nosy little lady, aren’t you?” and you startle at the sudden realization.

You turn and curtsy. “I’m sorry, Commander Miller, I was just-”

“You were just eavesdropping.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Yes you did, but it’s fine.” He had the same eyes as his older brother. Soft, putting you at ease. Kind. “Listen, had Gina said anything to you about Ellie or marriage recently?”

Now you were put in a position, stuck between a man you barely knew and the lady of your house. You should have loyalty to Gina, not the brother of your commander… but one looked at you like furniture and one seemed to have the young girl’s interests in mind…

“She um… She said Commander Miller spoiled her, and that the reason she wanted me was to uh… start over…”

Commander Miller rolled his eyes. “Bitch.” He looked back at you. “Only reason he married her in the first place was because he knocked her up when they were in college. Our parents made them get married so goddamn fast and then told everyone Sarah was premature.” Chuckling, he seemed like he expected you to laugh along, but you were. He stops, dropping the charm and turning only slightly serious. “You can relax, you know -” Tommy calls you by your name. Your real name. Not Ofjoel. “That’s your name right? Angela told me.” Angela, not Ofthomas. “It’s fine. I swear I’m not like other commanders. I’m a cool commander.” He tries to joke, but it lands flat. “Sorry, I don’t really know how to be normal about this. I know Joel is intense but I just can’t seem to fit into the whole strange new world bit.”

He seemed genuine. Thomas, Angela and Ellie seemed like the first real, genuine people you’d met in years and it was jarring… but you didn’t want to ruin it. “It’s okay. I’m just not good at acting normal. This is all I’ve really known.”

He looks sad at that. “Yeah, you’re pretty young aren’t you?”

You nod.

“I’ll let you be but… if Gina says anything to you about Ellie, wanting to set her up or something… can you please tell me? Or tell Angela to relay the message?”

“I will.” You promise, and you intend to keep it. She was just a kid, after all.

The wine you needed was almost out so you went to the wine cellar to fetch another bottle. As you descend the stairs into the cool basement, your mind reels from the revelations of the last few days. What the hell was going on with the Miller household?

However, when you open the door to the cellar you find another secret of the Miller household and this time you thought you might be the first to find out.

Riley jumps off where she had Ellie pressed up against the shelves, arms disentangling from each other, lips unlocking in panicked gasps. Riley’s blue dress rustles as she quickly steps back from Ellie’s white, the colors separating as they did.

You watch them in shock as the two teenage girls gape at you, fear in their eyes and red flush in their face. A face that said they knew they were going on the wall.

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Dun dun DUUHHHHHHH

Yeah sorry, Deborah is an oc lol I just could not picture Maria as a wife lol

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie...

And fucking Gina keeps getting worse.

Again, not a thrilling chapter but I think it sets the stage of a few relationships.

I promise next chapter we'll finally get more of Joel

please let me know what you think!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dins-riduur-anthe @morallyinept @fan-fiction-floozyy @med494 @taliarose12 @flvrdoll @k-ra @sam-2me @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @kyloispunk @jenna-ortega @lunitareads @labyrinthofheartagrams @swimmjacket @magpiepillsjunior

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tooruswhre · 2 years

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THE BOYS AS DADS !

feat. ushijima wakatoshi , satori tendou + kotaro bokuto .

genre + tw. fluff ! thats it . not proofread .

USHIJIMA despite his dense personality at times, he has a strong soft spot for the kids. he always goes to their school events with you by his side, plans family outings and always brings back a gifts or two when he travels out of town for games. he is also very protective and wants to ensure you and their safety, like baby-proofing the sides of cabinets, drawers and tables and whatnot. he also watches a plethora of parenting videos daily and saves several of those parenthood sites and facebook groups too. communication is key to him and tries to brew up random conversations with them while their young, listening to their babbles creating conversations, its adorable to you watching ushijima make their chatter into something humorous. when they are older now, he can’t seem to tell them no, he’d give the world and more to them if he could.

TENDOU is quite known for being a handful with how loud and cheerful he may be to come across to others. but the day he became a father and welcomed his sweet bundle of joy in his arms, he calmed down a bit and became more mature. he loves to dress them up in cute outfits to take pictures and small videos that he sends to you when you’re away, might even make a whole scene to dress them up in dinosaur costumes and make tiny skits of them demolishing their playpens. as they get older he’s able to do more festivities with them, taking them to tourist attractions and more. though he can get carried away sometimes with these crazy little adventures and tasks he does— he wants to be the fun parent and wants no time to waste in making these times memorable.

BOKUTO are the kid’s favorite, the best for cheering them up and lightening the moods with his playful characteristics, he can almost pass off as a kid if he tried hard enough. he’s a sucker for the quality time, introducing them to more games and the newest gaming systems. he’ll join the kids when they are drawing, or even play a few games of hide and seek [ he’s such an expert that they would eventually give up in finding him and do something else! ]. he’s also really good with advice when he wants to be, they can ask him anything and be completely comfortable and honest with him cause he’s not one to judge and will always make conversations the best ones. he also loves when the kids tag along with him, weather thats going to the store or running boring errands that they soon regret to join in, he loves their company— he’ll even make little events with the kids friends inviting them over for movie nights and going to the arcades.

reblogs are always appreciated and thank you for waiting a while. <3

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littledrummerangie · 7 months

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So hello hello good evening Budapest. I'm finally home, it's midnight and and and I had the best time of my life!

Many many highlights of the soundcheck and the show:

My question for soundcheck was picked fiiiirst? Hello??? It was absolutely crazy!

The VIP rep, Athena was an absolut angel, big shout out to her! I had a good talk with her after soundcheck and she was he sweetest.

The guys played Long Way Home and Out Of My Limit.

Before questions the VIP rep asked our names and I told her she can say Angie insted of my Hungarian name.

So she did introduce me "someone who her friends know as Angie", and Michael was like: "and what do people call you who you do not consider as friends?" So I had to tell him that basically anyone before age 15 knows me as my real name, and after that, when I started using the internet and didn't like my name I picked up Angie. So he said, okay, Angie.

My question was: what arw you bringing home from tour (souvenir, memory, feeling).

Ash said his mom always asks for fridge magnets and was like "fuck, Mom, no, it would need its own suitcase" and he said he likes travelling light

Luke said a qeak immune system and he stoles keycards from the hotels he sþays in and has tons

Michael said he gets lot of baby clothes and didn't know how much stuff a baby needs

Calum said he has really good memories of this tour

At thw beginning they also was talking about Buda and Pest, as mentioned by Ash in the IG story.