#maybe I'll go back and flesh out the other ideas
Note
Do you think humans in twisted wonderland have periods? What if they don't...
What if AFAB!Yuu is the only one in twisted wonderland to have periods and it freaks everyone out
Evolutionarily speaking it would make sense for the humans in twisted wonderland to reabsorb the unused egg for extra fuel for magic
[cw] - discussion of periods/afab!Yuu but still written as gn
[wc} - 1,792
Added the rest under readmore as it got a bit long.
I think there's a fic somewhere on here with this idea, but I can't remember the blog or name, I'll edit and link it later if I find it.
I can see the point of the egg being reabsorbed, though personally I think TWST humans are biologically the same as Earth humans, minus the ones with magic maybe having a bit stronger/heighten senses and strengths. After all, there are plenty of humans who aren't magic, I think it's mentioned some point in their book 2 or book 5 that a majority of the population is either magicless or aren't privy to the privilege of formal magical education.
Even if a majority of the human population is magic, there's still a good chunk of them that don't and if that's the case then they at least would have periods.
However, that's explicitly the human population, and in reality it makes absolutely no sense for beastmen or merfolk to have periods. Especially when they have things like heat/ruts or mating cycles. Fae I think would actually make the most sense for the headcanon you're mentioning! They are completely and utterly magic, made from the magic of the earth, animals, and flora given sentience and forms. They are utterly magic, through, and through, so it would make sense for those with uteri to recycle the egg back into them for magical fuel.
And say we're going with the assumption that there are no other afab students in the school, or there are, but they're only beastmen, merfolk, and/or fae, then an afab!Yuu comes as quite a shock.
The beastmen are the first to notice something off with them, as they have the most acute sense of smell. This is followed by a very close second with the merfolk (particularly the predacious ones) and an even closer third by the fae. All the boys from those dorms, minus Lilia who's lived long enough to know what a period is, clock in on their friend who reeks of blood and flesh (because you're also shedding pieces of your uterine lining).
Lord help you, as you're in a crowded area, the cafeteria, with not only them but the rest of their classmates that also smell your blood, because their immediate thought is that you're fucking dying.
Sebek is surprisingly the first to launch himself at you, shouting at the top of his lungs, “WHERE IS YOUR INJURY HUMAN?! YOU ARE SEVERELY INJURED YOU SHOULD BE IN THE INFIRMARY—” Before he is yanked off by a wide-eyed Jack, who's looking more and more like the dead as he leans down to sniff at you.
The blood from his face drains (ha) as he turns to look at Leona and Ruggie, as well as a small group of other beastmen—friend's you've made during the tournament—and nods. This causes them to all look horrified and gaze at you like a wounded puppy. Minus Leona, who just looks amused.
“It's coming from them.”
Still confused, you stare at the Heartslabyul group—who'd been eating breakfast with you—in bewilderment. They also look at you in confusion, except for Riddle, the latter of which pinches the bridge of his noses and takes a deep sigh.
“I think you're all being a bit dramatic, they're just on their—”
“DRAMATIC? I DON'T THINK YOU'RE BEING DRAMATIC ENOUGH!”
Floyd grabs you from behind, spinning you and shoving his face so close to yours that you noses are smushed together.
“Shrimpy… you gotta tell me who did it, cause I could tell from aaaaall the way in the hallway that ya hurt. Com'on! Tell Floydie, I promise I won't be mad.”
Jade placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as he leans down to chastise Floyd.
“Not now Floyd, the poor thing is hurt, we should take them to the infirmary. Then we can hunt down the dreadful soul that hurt our friend and have them trade their spot.”
You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, yelping and latching your arms around Floyd's neck as he cradles you in his arms. Effectively yanking you from Jack's grip, who immediately growls.
“Floyd! Be careful!”
“Ehhh? Yeah that sounds like a great idea! Let's go now, I'm itching for a good fight, ayhehehe!”
Leona and Riddle shared a look, the former sighed to try and explain.
“Look you idiots, they're not injured, they're—”
“What are you waiting for?” Ruggie interrupted him, annoyed by Leona's unconcerned attitude, instead gesturing to Floyd. “Let's go before they bleed out even more!”
The small group clamored out of the cafeteria, a few more concerned students following after them as they started to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Leaving Leona and the others in the dust. Deuce piped up.
“… Uh, do they not know—”
“No, most beastmen aren't familiar with periods.”
“I'm guessing merfolk and fae don't either, based on the twins and Sebek.” Riddle sighed, feeling sorry for you.
Leona's ears perked as he heard the shrill shriek of a certain octopus in the distance. Riddle and the others also seemed to hear it as they winced.
“Probably not…”
“…”
“… should we?”
“Yeah, we probably should, before my boys wreck the school. Let's get Crewel.”
It took a whole hour of you reassuring the small crowd that had formed around your bed in the infirmary before anyone calmed down. Floyd and Jade were being constantly pulled back into the infirmary by the ear by the nurse, who kept telling the two to stop trying to go beat up the imaginary person that, quote unquote, “hurt you”.
“What do you mean Shrimpy isn't hurt? I can smell the blood from all the way down the hall!”
“Yes, it's quite a potent scent, and distinct to our dear Prefect.” Jade held his hand to his chest as he sniffled. “We've smelled it before when they've gotten hurt, but this is a whole different level.”
“Yeah! Almost all of Savanaclaw could smell it” Ruggie nodded in agreement as Jack followed.
“They must be really hurt if we all could smell it from that far away! You need to help them nurse!”
Their voice's grew again in volume, Sebek in particular, as he vowed to also hunt down the “ruffian who would dare harm a fellow student on the campus Master Malleus attended!”
The nurse, growing more and more annoyed trying to corral the group (she wondered how ethical it would be to use a silencing spell and another to stick them to the ceiling), sighed in relief as the echo of Crewel's whip commanded immediate silence.
“Oh, thank the Sundrop, Professor Crewel, please control them. I am up to here with their foolishness—”
“Foolish? The Prefect might be dying!” Azul cried out, surprisingly attached to your side. She'd tried to yank him off of you earlier, but was met with a shocking amount of strength as his grip on the metal bed frame caused an Azul-sized hand indent to form. His strength, easy to forget in his slender frame. Now, he was trying his best to coax the name of the student responsible with promises of free drinks and discounted food.
“No I'm not!” You cried out in exasperation. “I've been trying to tell you, but y'all won't listen!”
As you tried to get up from the bed, trapped in a blanket cocoon made by Azul, the boys started up again. Half urging you to stay in bed and rest, while the other half argued with the nurse, and now Crewel, about healing you up.
A near ear-shattering rumble of thunder caused another silence to fall over everyone. This time, though, the group shrunk into themselves as Malleus, standing proud and tall, entered the room. Sebek perked up, rushing over to meet him.
“Young Master! I've ensured that the human was taken to the infirmary, but so far they've refused any healing—”
“Thank you, Sebek. I will speak to them myself.”
Malleus, his school jacket flourishing behind him (one of the students murmured that he felt like a background character in a romance movie), flew to your side. Where you had been squirming your upper body out of the blanket cocoon, smacking at Azul's hands as he kept attempting to swaddle you back in.
Now freed waist up, you turned to face Malleus, who had elegantly kneeled down by your bedside (you could hear Sebek muffled a shriek) and held your hand like a delicate piece of china.
“Child of Man, my friend, what happened? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” Malleus cooed at you, green eyes peering into yours, full of concern.
So it was a surprise to everyone in the room when you groaned, which morphed into a soft scream.
“Uh… Child of Man?”
“I'm fiiiiiine!” You sighed, slumping back into the bed. “I'm just on my period, you guys.”
The room remained quiet, a bit too quiet as you lifted your head back up to look at the room of confused looking men. Crewel had a hip cocked as he looked unimpressed over the crowd. The nurse was rubbing her temples. You heard Azul clear his throat, drawing his attention as he asked,
"What's a period?"
Finally, the crowd had settled, all of them huddled around your bed as you tried your best to explain what a menstral cycle was.
"So you like, bleed every month? Randomly?"
"Amount 28 days, so once a month yeah. And now it's not random, it's part of the reproductive cycle. It's my body preps for a new egg—"
"But, I though humans didn't lay eggs?" Floyd asked, leaning against Azul's right shoulder.
"We don't, it's different the egg turns into a baby itself so there's no egg to lay—"
Ruggie spoke up, "We get that, but I don't get why the egg makes you bleed? It can't do that can it?"
"No, no, no. It's not the egg itself, it's my body. In order for the egg to get fertilize it needs a good environment to grow, so the uterus grows a fresh lining once a month for the egg to latch on to, so—"
You sighed as once of the other fae students interrupted.
"Fresh lining? Like, the skin? Of the uterus?"
You nodded, trying to keep your patience as you attempted to explain to your friends that, no, you were in fact not bleeding to death.
"Yes, that's the blood, the skin is shedding to make a fresh one for the next egg."
You don't think it's working, as that last sentence caused a wave of mortifcation amongst the crowd.
"That... sounds like it hurts." Malleus, still holding your hand, softly asked. "You're not hurting though, correct?"
Pursing your lips, you looked up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. Wow had that cobweb always been in that corner?
"Yuu."
Malleus's voice, calling out your name for once, was full of questioning.
"Yeah Horns?"
"it doesn't hurt, correct?"
You started whistling a little tune, studying the dirt under your nails.
"Dear Prefect," Jade this time. "Answer the question?"
The group leaned in closer as you grumbled under your breath.
"Speak up Shrimpy."
".........not always."
"Come on, stop being shy, you act like a puppy most of the time" Ruggie was getting annoyed.
".....cramps..not move...not always."
"It's okay Yuu, you can say it." Azul cooed.
"...Sometimes the cramps makes it hurt too much to move, but not always."
You braced yourself as the crowd once again riled up.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT HURTS TOO MUCH TO MOVE?"
The nurse off to the side still, leaned over to tell Crewel, "I told you we needed an interspecies health class."
hehe this was fun, comments appreciated. I may be inclined to write more since writing different between species like this is fun
#mochi asks#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#if you squint its an x reader#mochi fic
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more 18+ smutty thots (minors dni)
I don't know what came over me I was supposed to write an essay and this came out. disgustingly fluffy smut under the cut.
ok so while the idea of being fingered with rings on is really hot, I personally think it's really painful, you just get repeatedly punched in the pussy by like chunky metal. not very hot.
so picture this, Eddie always fingers you with his right hand because it's easier to take off one ring than three, big, chunky ones. He usually puts it down somewhere, maybe on his dresser or his desk, just so he knows he won't lose it.
And he's kneeling on the floor between your legs, getting ready to give you the biggest and sloppiest and the best head of your life. His hair is tied up and his other hand is keeping your thighs spread- now, the bite of those rings on your thigh you don't mind. They're cold and your flesh gets stuck in the gap between the ring and his finger, giving your inner thigh a delicious pinch.
But he's shirtless and he's famished and you notice that he still has that ring on. And he's circling your entrance with his ring and middle finger and as much as you'd love for him to keep going, because he's making you feel so good you have to stop him.
He emerges from in between your thighs, alarmed.
"What's wrong sweetheart? Need to stop?" his eyebrows are curled in a concerned manner, he's worried you weren't enjoying it. Ever the people pleaser.
"No no no, not at all" you huff, there is not enough oxygen in your brain for you to think right now. You stare at the ceiling, hoping that miraculously the words will come to you.
"What is it then?" he urges, giving your thigh a soft squeeze.
"Your um- your ring" you whisper softly, tilting your head towards his slick soaked fingers. He takes a moment to register, looking at his right hand, seeing the small little silver ring on his ring finger.
"Oh shit, sorry sweetheart" he goes to clean his fingers on the duvet of his bed, which makes you wince a bit. He probably won't was those sheets anytime soon.
He takes his ring off, but a malicious grin adorns his face as he plays with it a little, looking at you, still spread open and naked on the bed for him.
"Why don't you hold on to it for me?" he asks, as he reaches for your left hand, placing the slightly loose ring on your fourth finger. Your ring finger.
The thought makes you gasp as he wastes no time diving back into eating you out. His thick fingers spreading you open for him, as the gesture, though small, makes a wave of arousal mixed with utter love and devotion wash over you.
Your moans get louder with the possessive nature of the gesture, he wanted you to be his.
"Yeah? Y'wanna be my little wife?" he says in between licks and sucks at your core as his fingers make quick work of brushing that soft spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His words only top the whole thing off.
"Oh- sh-yes, Eddie!" and you're not even sure what you're saying yes to. Everything feels too good, from the way his ringed hand is gripping your thigh, to the way his too- big ring burns its way into your skin. His. His little wife.
Your right hand digs at his hair, grabbing and pawing at the soft curls, urging him to fulfill you, a carnal need for more of him. A need for him to have you in any way he can.
His fingers picked up the pace, compensating for your mouth separating from you, chin and nose covered in slick.
"Who would've guessed a ring was all you needed. I put this little piece of tin on your finger and you go insane? Trust me baby, I'll give you the real thing. I'll give you everything you want" he mumbles against the skin of your tummy, mouthing soft praises.
"So good for me, aren't you. Gonna be mine so soon" and the promises of such a certain future make your head reel. His fingers curling inside of you as you cry out, the feeling of him being everywhere on you. Inside and out.
His hair fanning on your tummy as he continues his trail of hisses to the hinge of your knee, your calf, your ankle. The arch of your foot.
Then his hand is on you, brushing stray hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as your moans become lighter, airier.
"You close, baby? My little wife wants to cum for me?" he asks, his mouth against the seam of your thigh, licking and sucking bruises in his wake.
And you can't really speak aside from soft hn! noises and the occasional cry of his name, a prayer above as your walls begin to tighten around him.
"'mclose" you deliver curtly and he smiles, watching the way your cheeks flush, your eyes can't stop rolling to the back of your head.
"C'mon, baby, cum for me" he says, and like a spell has been cast on you, you follow his order, tightening around his fingers that don't seem to be stopping as you ride out your orgasm.
You have to push his hand away, an overwhelmed whine coming out of your mouth as you lay there.
"No more, no more" you chant, laying back as he sits on his bed, laying your head on his lap, caressing your matted and sweaty hear, brushing them away from your forehead as you catch your breath, playing with the new addition to your finger to steady yourself.
"You can keep that if you want. Gonna get you a chain, wear it around your neck" he says, smiling down at you.
"But it's yours, Ed" you squeak out, tired in a post orgasmic glow.
"Consider this an advance. For when I get to put a ring on that pretty finger" he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
And you feel safe, secure. Happy.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson smut#stranger things#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson blurb
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Stuck? Try junebugging.
I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.
Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?
If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!
What Is Junebugging?
Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.
The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.
How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?
OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:
Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.
Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.
I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.
I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.
Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.
This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.
It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.
Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.
#writing tips#nanowrimo#writing advice#nano 2023#writeblr#writing community#plotting vs pantsing#junebugging
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Zombie Horde x AMAB transfem/gn reader who is working to find a cure for the zombie epidemic?
Like I was imagining reader works in a lab that is then overrun, and reader attempts to flee the horde or secretly continue their experiments when they aren’t looking.
Eventually maybe reader gets used to it and decides to take advantage of the “willing” and (usually) non-violent test subjects.
Love ur work btw <3
i havent given you guys your dose of zombie bitches lately so here ya go <3 this can be also be read as gn maybe
Zombie Horde x MtF!Reader Who's Looking for a Cure
CW: i will make you sob at the end istg, a bit of ewuh body stuff
💀 You've been trying to find a cure ever since the first wave of the epidemic, but the virus spread so quickly that you had to halt your research and flee the city, getting in your car after loading all your equipment and supplies in the trunk and driving off.
💀 Now, after just a few months, you were living in a symbiotic relationship with the very things you swore to destroy. At that point, you've forgotten all about the cure, thinking that there was no more hope on this earth for rehabilitation.
💀 But while lying down in your zombie husband pile at night, the idea sparked in your brain yet again, making you sit up, Ribs' head falling from your shoulder, waking him up.
💀 "S-sorry! So sorry Hun! Uhm..I gotta get something!" You pat Ribs' head before stumbling out of your bed, careful not to trip over the others. Bo blinks a bit before getting up and following you.
💀 You hear a low purr behind you as you were putting on your jacket and backpack and see Bo with a pleading, sleepy face. please come back..it's cold... you could imagine him saying. You chuckle and give him a kiss on the nose. "I'll be back, I promise!" and you run off outside to the parking lot.
💀 You retrieve your supplies from your old car, it's dusty and a bit dirty but the papers you've written were still readable.
💀 You carry the box of stuff back with you, Screw and Soda waiting for you and cocking their heads at the sight of their little mate carrying a box full of tubes and paper.
💀 The horde curiously watches you search through the papers, sometimes writing things down. You mumble soft words they didn't understand whilst looking over two or more papers.
💀 Eventually, you circle a string of letters and numbers and you hold your head in your hands with wide eyes, Screw crawls up to you cooing and you turn to him with the biggest smile on your face.
💀 "I think I got it.."
💀 He cocks his head with a chirp.
💀 "I have the cure..."
💀 You would've never considered it, but with your new discovery of visible consciousness in infected subjects, brain recovery and even bodily recovery can be possible, you just had to find a solution that can increase the body's constructive systems.
💀 You would forge for materials far beyond where you usually searched and would meet up with other survivors to exchange goods in order to conduct your research.
💀 Of course, your husbands were willing to help you, once you told them about your plan, they were so happy! Flesh like yours? Count us in! Ribs especially wants to help; he very much wants his torso back...
💀 The first tests weren't very fruitful but gave interesting results, one experiment with Bo included an injection to his arm, which made his heart beat for a few seconds before slowing and stopping like it was before.
💀 You would also see signs of growth, both Screw and Soda's wounds would appear to be healing themselves.
💀 After a few months of experimentation, you were starting to give up, the boys' wounds and lost body parts being unable to grow back.
💀 It was alright for you though, you never really expected to find the cure so easily, and you weren't sure if it could even work on other zombies.
💀 At least the boys looked a bit better than before though, their hair could grow like a human's and their limps were gone, their joints rejuvenated and no longer rigid, allowing them to move like a normal human and not a living corpse.
💀 You thought that was all that you got from your experiments when..
💀 "(Y-Y/N)?"
💀 That...voice? It sounds familiar somehow...
💀 "Babygirl? Can you hear me?" the voice says again, it was gruff with a bit of a southern accent.
💀 "That's not her name!" Another voice, more higher pitched that the first.
💀 "It's a nickname Ribs!" One quietly says.
💀 Your neck almost snaps at the speed you turned back.
💀 "Uhm..hey there babes.." Bo says awkwardly.
💀 Looks like their vocal chords grew back too...
#yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x reader#male yandere#oc yandere#yandere oc#yandere male#tw yandere#zombie#zombie x reader#terato#teratophillia#monsterfucker#monster x human#monster smut#monster lover#undead#x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#why did i make this#arf arf#bark bark bark#poly x reader#polyamorous#polyamory#poly relationship#yandere x female reader#x female reader#x fem!reader
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Heya!!
So I'm a little obsessed with the secret relationship trope... i was wondering if you could do an Astarion x reader secret relationship but maybe during a fight, reader dies and has to be revivified? And Astarion freaks out, like he goes semiferal and histerical?
Maybe it could be during the fight with his siblings at camp so now Cazador knows he has someone he holds dear (even if Astarion doesn't want to admit it yet) which is what they were trying to avoid?
Thank you so much!!!!
🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ All I Want ❛ ✧
Featuring: Astarion x Reader
Not proofread!
# Notes: I'm not too good with drabbles but I rly like this idea so I decided to try! also no use of "y/n" because I'll be honest I'm not a fan of it lmao
It was his idea to keep the relationship a secret.
He knew how that sounded — like he was ashamed of his partner, like he didn't want anyone to know for the sake of his reputation. That wasn't true, and he assured them of it. It was simply a precaution, something to protect them both. Now that they arrived at Baldur's Gate and are closer to Cazador than ever, he couldn't take any chances. Not when it came to them, at least.
He wasn't used to this — caring about someone other than himself. It was always about his survival, but now he had someone else to worry about. Someone whose life was worth a lot more than his own. Someone he couldn't afford to lose.
So, he kept it a secret. It wasn't exactly easy to go about their day pretending to be nothing more than companions, friends at most. Ever since they got together, he realized just how starved he was for any kind of attention, any kind of affection. Having to refrain from touching them too much or being his usual, flirty self hasn't been a simple feat. But he knew how important it was that they kept things under wraps.
His feet were killing him after a long day of adventuring, from Wyrm's Crossing all the way to the Lower City. At least they managed to avoid some confrontation for today, so he had one less thing to complain about. They got settled in an inn and he managed to sneak out for a few seconds with his partner to at least get a good night's kiss. He wanted more, but knew that would have to suffice.
The others had already fallen asleep, but he remained tossing and turning. Something felt off. He wasn't sure what, but his nerves were on end, like his fight or flight response had picked up on something he himself hadn't yet. Perhaps that was for the best, as it allowed him to notice the sound of footsteps early enough to stand up and grab a dagger. His hand shook slightly, wrapped around the handle of the weapon as two familiar faces walked in. He felt sick. He knew what they were here to do.
"Get the hells away from me!" It wasn't quite a yell, but definitely loud enough to wake the others. He instinctively took a few steps back, trying to maintain a distance far enough to deceive his brain into believing that he was somewhat safe. "Peace, brother. We're here to take you home." Aurelia uttered somewhat gently, but it almost made him puke. Brother. Home. Just the notion of it made him dizzy with disgust. The Szarr Palace wasn't his home, and these goons were not his family — he was tired of playing along with this fucked up game of pretend.
It didn't take long for a fight to break out, despite his attempts at deception. He should've known Cazador wouldn't let him off easy. Karlach was the first to react, letting out a guttural scream of rage as she charged at Violet. The axe cut through flesh before the spawn could realize what was happening, getting stuck where it met bone. She screamed, but was soon silenced by another blow. While it was supposed to be lethal, she simply vanished into a cloud of black smoke instead of dropping dead on the ground.
Leon was next, aiming for the person who was closest to where he stood which, to Astarion's despair, happened to be his darling. The spawn's claws slashed their skin open, blood splattering on the floor as they yelped in pain. Astarion didn't think — he simply acted, pouncing on Leon only to drive his dagger through his heart one, two, three times, until he too vanished into thin air. He snapped his head back in their direction just in time to see Yousen sneaking up, grabbing them from behind and sinking his teeth into their neck. The scream, the way their eyes squeezed shut in agony and their hands clawed against the spawn holding them still was enough to make Astarion see red.
He hardly remembered moving. But he did remember the screams. Not from his darling, but from his brother, as he drove the dagger into the side of his neck and twisted it. He looked back at his lover again, but the dark cloud from Yousen obscured his vision. He didn't hear screaming anymore. Only his ears ringing slightly and the sound of laboured breathing from his companions.
When he could finally see again, he almost wished he couldn't. That'd be better than the sight of his beloved's body sprawled out on the floor atop a pool of blood, their empty, cold eyes gazing into his soul. He rushed to their side despite his shaking legs, stumbling on his way there until he fell to his knees beside them. He raised their head by the back of their neck, resting it on top of his thigh. He hardly realized he was hyperventilating, hands shaking violently as he cradled one of their cheeks in his palm. "No, no... You can't die. Wake up, damn it!" He choked out, his voice rising from a whisper full of disbelief to a screech of the utmost despair.
Karlach too rushed to their side, fumbling with her bag with quivering hands. "H-Hold on, soldier, I think..." She stuttered out nervously before cutting herself off as she pulled a scroll of revivify from the bag. She knelt next to the two and placed the parchment atop the corpse's chest. It glowed a bright white light, seemingly seeping into their skin. There was a deafening silence for a few seconds when suddenly, they woke up with a loud gasp, eyes widening as life was brought back into their being.
The pale elf didn't waste a second before pulling them into a hug, not minding the blood staining his clothes. He hid his face in the crook of their neck, only a small sob and whisper being heard from him. "Oh, thank the gods... Please, please never do that again..." He choked out before pulling away from the embrace, cupping their cheek and pressing his lips against theirs. He never felt that before. That immense sense of hopelessness, agony and grief. Not to this level, not of this kind — and he'd make sure he never felt it again.
However, as he pulled away from the kiss, he saw something in the distance. Aurelia, bleeding out on the ground, watching them seconds before she too vanished into the darkness. If he still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat out of sheer terror alone. Cazador knew. He knew about his spawn's newfound love. And Astarion would have to be a fool not to expect his master to take advantage of that fact.
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You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!
Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.
So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.
Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.
Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.
Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)
(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)
Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.
Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.
Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.
Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.
I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)
As for danny's old team...
Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.
Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)
Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.
Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.
There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.
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Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!
So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with
Heads up: this will be kinda long lol
The germ of an idea
For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.
Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.
Contrast
From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.
I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.
So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.
These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.
Specificity
Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.
This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:
No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem.
So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific.
For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher.
Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more?
The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art.
She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.
Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.
It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.
Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!
But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be
Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:
Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome
Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)
Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color
A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette
Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!
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Miguel O'Hara x Catgirl!Reader
based on one of my favorite roleplays♡ I'll be writing more about catgirl!reader, watch me.
Ngl, not fully satisfied with this one but here we go.
CW: manipulation (coming from the reader), blowjob, deepthroat, face fucking, face slapping, cum swallowing, choking on dick.
"I hate you." Miguel mumbles as you wrap your arms around him, too damn tired to try to pull away from you. He knows it's futile even if he tried, you'd keep clinging to him like a leech. And maybe that's exactly what you are.
God, he hates you. He can't stand all your teasing, or how the only reason you come back to him is his money. He can't stand how you broke down his walls within months, walls he had spent years carefully crafting to avoid this exact same situation.
"Oh, but you love me." You said teasingly, your face against his pecs as you kept rubbing your cheeks on the supple skin. You know he hates whenever you touch his chest, especially after that "nice tits, O'Hara" comment, yet it's so much fun to annoy him. To see the man who stands tall and proud crumble down. Miguel doesn't say anything, simply rolling his eyes as he gently pushes your head away from his chest.
"Puta madre... no puedo más." Miguel mumbles softly, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers as his eyes close. He doesn't even know why he's dealing with you— he could easily make you go away, yet something about you makes him feel alive for the first time since he lost his daughter. You're a breath of fresh air from all the nightmares, although you're a nightmare yourself.
"Then maybe I should find another man to fund my things, no?" You asked teasingly, knowing damn well Miguel would rather die than allow that. You know he's possessive of you, you know he'd hate to see you go to another man for anything. He would give you the world if you asked for it.
"You know I can't let that happen." He finally looks down at you, pure annoyance on his face, yet his eyes show just how much the idea bothers him. "A man buying you things? I would end him." And it's true. If Miguel could be more honest with himself, he would be. He's very possessive of you, despite the fact that he's fully aware he's being manipulated and used for what he can provide. He already spent too many nights hating himself for allowing it, he already came to terms with it.
"Aw... and what if another man touches me? What if I like it?" Your words make him visibly tense up and he can feel the sensation of his fangs starting to come out. He knows you want a reaction out of him, and for whatever reason, he's giving it to you. It should be okay since you're both alone in his house, no?
"He'd be dead before he could even try to touch you." Miguel replies, dead serious and firm. His voice is a tad bit less sharp, but when it comes to you and other men, his protective instincts kick in.
"You're mine and no one else's. Forever." And just to make a point, he holds your face as he speaks, long fingers holding your jaw with surprising gentleness.
"And what if—" You can't even finish your sentence before Miguel squeezes your face.
"Cállate." His voice is sharp as he snaps back at you, and he's not sure whether he wants to punch or kiss you. He looks down at you with pure annoyance. His 6'9 behemoth frame would intimidate anyone, yet you're simply grinning up at him like an idiot, looking proud about pissing him off. His gaze drifts down to your lips, admiring the plump flesh before, against his better judgment, his thumb teasingly rubs your lower lip.
"Eres tan linda, pero tan cruel." He speaks softly, almost as if he was putting his thoughts into words. You open your mouth slightly, allowing his thumb into your mouth as you begin sucking on it teasingly, your tongue gently rubbing on the bare skin as he disengages the suit on his hand only.
"Dios mío." He can feel himself starting to get hard beneath his tech suit, thinking back on all the times you've sucked him off.
You never did any sexual favors for money, you simply did it as a reward for him. To keep him interested and enamored with you, and it worked. It always worked, all you had to do was get on your knees and look up at him with those pretty, doe eyes.
He disengaged the suit on his crotch, his fat cock coming out and gently landing on your cheek, making you giggle softly. Your paw went up to slowly stroke his shaft as your tongue began to teasingly lick the tip of his dick, the taste of his precum all over it. Miguel hissed as you licked the slit of his tip, his hand now resting on your head, scratching the back of your ear softly, knowing how pleasant is is for you.
"Buena chica." He praised softly, his eyes closing as you began to suck him off, slowly taking more and more of his big cock into your mouth. He helped you by gently pushing your head towards his hips, groaning at the feeling of your tight throat swallowing him up. Both of his hands went to the sides of your head, starting to thrust into your throat deeply, yet still holding back to not hurt you.
"Así, así..." He mumbled as he fucked into your throat, holding you in place once he was fully inside, your nose hitting his well-groomed happy-trail before he began slamming into you again, his fangs now coming out as he got lost in the sensation of your warm throat. You may hold the cards in whatever relationship you two had, but he was always the one in control whenever his dick was inside any of your holes.
"You need it just as bad as me, mutt." His voice is rough and raspy, eyes fluttering as he thrashes into your throat, pulling out only to give you the chance to breathe. You greedily gasp for air, coughing softly as your throat finally has an air flow. Miguel jerks himself off while staring at you, moving the tip of his dick all over your cheek, smearing it with your own spit and his precum.
He waits until you nod your head, lifting your face with one hand as his other one delivers a hard slap to your cheek before he starts to fuck your face again, the stinging feeling of the slap and his cock all the way down your throat making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Miguel is using you like a sex-toy, yet the feeling is always too good to care. These are the only moments he gets to have any control in your relationship, no matter what.
"Mierda..." He hisses out as he bites his lip to prevent a guttural moan to escape his mouth. He looks so pretty like this; eyebrows furrowed slightly, his face covered by a thin layer of sweat, nose slightly scrunched fangs bared as he focuses on fucking your face. His thrusts begin to get more sloppy after a few minutes, and it's clear he won't last long.
With one last deep thrust and a loud groan, he slams his cock all the way down your throat, forcing you to swallow all his warm and sticky cum. Miguel cums a lot, and you're forced to deal with it. Coughing and struggling for air, yet he doesn't pull his dick out, not until he's sure you swallowed all of it.
"Good girl." He praises, sighing softly as he pulls his cock out gently, laying it down on your face as you struggle for air, tears rimming your eyes as you cough. A satisfied smirk sets on his lips as you look up at him with a grin.
"How much money did you need again?"
#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel 2099#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderverse#beyond the spiderverse#atsv#spiderman atsv#astv#across the spiderverse#miguel x you
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UNTITLED N°1 !! demon dean
(gif from pinterest, credits to the owner)
tw ⭒ minors dni, SMUT, dirty talk, dean x f!reader, did i already said this is demon dean shit???? i am vibrating on another level istg, fingering (f. receiving), sex toys (vibrator), spanking, oral (m. receiving), p in v, public space, unprotected sex, etc.
a/n ⭒ ian i swear i'll hunt you down for giving me ideas EVERY FUCKING DAY and yeah, implicit the fact of the lipgloss stuff i wrote for jason but a bit different here, it's 1 am and i'm going back home from a party so prob no proof read, shhhh
words count ⭒ 2.505 (at this point i don't even dream of doing something short)
dean was changed since the last time you saw him, right before he received the mark of cain and way before he turned into a damn demon, sam and you looked for him for days until you stumbled with him outside of a night club which wasn't the best situation to find the guy who was supposed to be your boyfriend, the one that once treated you like the most important thing on his life and now only thought of you as another one night stand.
and what are you doing at a night club? well, long night and almost no sleep so you decided to take baby for a ride and maybe look for dean and here you are, standing in front of him while you fight the urge to punch him right across the face when you notice the lipstick smudges he has all over his jaw and neck "you're fucking amazing, dean" the sarcasm that drips from your voice seems to amuse him, dean grins at you with arms crossed over his chest as he walks closer "looks like you can't remember you shouldn't take the things that don't belong to you, sweetheart" he ignores your annoyance completely, walking around you with heavy steps almost as if he was a predator and you were a sick little animal to hunt and torture.
"yeah? i couldn't care less, what the hell are you doing here?" right behind the club the parking lot is almost empty, the led lights drawing shades on your bodies and the muffled music being almost completely hushed by your voice "having fun, can't a man have fun with a bunch of pretty girls? or are you getting jealous?" he has always had a smart mouth but this time his words do hurt a little but they also fuel your anger "you're being an ass, dean" words come out as a growl, avoiding his question because he already knows the answer damn well, it doesn't take humanity to understand that she loved the dean she used to know and that this dean only made her remember him but here again, he couldn't care less about your feelings right now.
"and you're being a pain in the ass, darling" he'll reply once he's in front of you, a devilish smirk on his lips at the same time he leans in making your heart rush because even with dean being a demon there was still an ounce of the man you loved and that minimal part of him still wanted you and only you, it was enough for it to take over and make you notice the glimpse of desire he had, a growing need to press his lips on yours and pin you against the impala, the same one that has already been the place for a good amount of the times you've let yourself melt into each other's touch and oh, if the evil side of dean hasn't used those memories to get off to your vulnerable image when you tremble under your lover. the way he stands so close to you, how he looks at your lips and licks his owns makes you shiver, making your lips part before he gives into your dean's needs; his lips are over yours, a bruising kiss as his hands grip your waist roughly, his touch making you moan from the pain his hands inflicted on your flesh.
once he pulled back you were panting and dean was living for that, his hand ran until it was on your neck "i think i have something in mind that you could enjoy, i miss someone misses fucking you dumb..." he whispers while tilting your head up to make you look up at him, green eyes fixed on yours made feel hypnotized until the point you walked to the passenger seat as dean got behind the steering wheel, the sigh making you even more hungry because the way he drove always made things to you. dean made the engine roar, pulling into the road until you both were sure it was safe to start anything. dean leaned to your side, his arm going behind your sit until he was able to reach a small vibrator he had used before with you, one of your road adventures from the past "are you gonna be good for me?" his voice was filled with a hint of what felt like mischief but also that cockiness that was part of him, you knew that maybe this wasn't the best idea, you should be the one driving to take dean back to the bunker but you mind was full of the bunch of memories of your boyfriend's dick deep inside of you and that was enough to make you forget any other responsability for at least a while, it had been a good long time since the last time you had any kind of sexual interaction thanks to him so, why not take the chance? so you nodded at him, lips pressed in a thin line as you waited for his next move.
there's a smirk on dean's face as he drives single handled, twisting the small vibrator between his fingers, dropping it on your thigh while you shift on your seat "sit pretty and spread those pretty legs of yours for me" he orders simply and you obey, legs spread enough for him to reach with his hand, undoing your belt and buttons before he slides two fingers under your clothes, starting to caress you slowly, torturing he plays with your clit circling over it before he pinches it softly making you moan shamelessly "fuck, dean..." you mutter when one of your hands goes to grab his wrist to make him stop when his fingers circle a bit faster "oh, you're being a little killjoy" he taunts with a click of his tongue but he takes his hand off you to grab the toy, turning it on just to slide it until he's able to press it against your sensitive bud, the vibrations making you gasp and hold onto the leather seat "just as slutty as always, aren't you? bet you've been dreaming about being fucked by me a lot lately" words making you moan and buck your hips, your eyes fixed on his movements when dean takes his hand away again, fingers coated on your wetness which he licks while glacing at you, the action only making you squirm in need of his mouth on you "and also as sweet as always, mhm, i could pull over and eat your pussy but i have other things in mind... close your legs, baby, and don't even think you can cum before i say you can."
with your legs closed the vibrator was pressed a little harder on your clit, it makes you sigh and whimper in the five eternal minutes it takes dean to find a good place to pull over, behind a small bar. he opens the door, getting to the back seat and sitting there, legs spread and his arms across the back of the seat "aren't you gonna come here, baby?" he asks teasingly, of course he was asking you to walk yourself out of the car and to the back seat, shaky legs and overstimulated, cursing him on your mind but still growing needier so when you get off the car and open the back door you can't help but bite your lip when dean is there undoing his belt and taking it off slowly with his eyes glued to you "come here and lay on my lap, sweetheart" he takes your hand in his, pulling you in taking advantage of your weak legs to make you lay on his lap, tummy flat over the seat while your hips rest over his legs when he closes the door before his hand stops on your ass, stroking you softly as he started to pull your jeans down slowly exposing your silky panties, chuckling lowly at the sight of the wet spot between your legs where the vibrator was still making you squirm and moan "so fucking wet, mhm? thought you would be harder to break down... such a easy whore" dean's voice is as rough and low as all the times you've found yourself so needy and hot for him, the big difference was that right now he was indeed a big bad wolf about to eat you alive.
every thought was erased of your head as soon as you felt his belt comming down to hit your ass, making you moan as dean's free hand snaked between your thighs to pull off the vibrator "oh, the little girl enjoys being spanked? you have a pretty sick mind, huh, you like being treated as a slut?" another spank falls on your rear, making you squirm and hold back a loud whimper before you nod "i love it... when you treat me like that" you moan, your reaction brings a wide grin to his face as he lets the leather belt fall again on your ass, the red marks of it standing over your skin as a sing of the way it would bruise by the morning, fuel for dean to keep it up until your cheeks were all red, your hips up with your ass on the air and your eyes teary from how much you needed him "god... dean, please" you beg and he growls at your voice.
"down. on your knees" he is quick to command, making you kneel on the floor, sitting all pretty and obedient between his legs as he undoes his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers making your mouth water at how hard his dick was in front of you "open that pretty mouth of yours, i want to fuck your face" the amount of dirty words turning you, leaning in you place your hands on his thighs while your tongue runs over his lenght tasting him and moaning softly at the way dean is looking at you. the growl he lets out when your lips are wrapped around his tip is gutural, his left hand going to grab a handful of your hair while you suck on him, tiny licks on him that leave your lips shiny from his precum "never thought a slut could look as pretty as you, mhm, those lips all pretty and shiny for me" he says in a low and raspy tone before he pulls your head by your hair, pressing his cock between your lips to make you swallow him right before he starts to move you, his hands making you bob your head causing you to gag and choke. your eyes are closed but it doesn't stop a few tears from falling from your eyes while dean pushes his dick into your mouth, throat fucking you between growls and moans of pure pleasure, smirking each time you gag and chuckling when he lets you pull away to breath but it doesn't take you too much until you're again looking to put his dick into your mouth "oh, baby so hungry... a needy whore that loves choking on my cock"
you whine when dean pulls you away from him, his hand grips your hair to bring you back to his lap but this time he makes you sit with your back pressed against his chest "i need to fuck that sweet pussy of yours, sweetheart, wanna see you ride me like a fucktoy" he whispers into your ear before making you lean forward, your ass perfectly pressed against him and a nice view of your hips and waist when he lifts you up and pulls your panties to the side before pushing his dick inside your snug walls in a rough thrust "so damn thight... gonna make you scream, baby" dean growls while his hands hold your waist to urge you to start moving.
at first you're just grinding your hips against his, feeling his dick moving inside of you in a way that made you moan softly but the need building inside your tummy made your movements change into quick and sloppy hops while you held yourself on the front seats, tits bouncing and your ass slapping against his body "that's a good bunny, fucking yourself on my cock like a good slut" a low moan escapes his lips and his hands are sliding under your black top, lifting the fabric until his hands are squeezing your breasts "you know how i love it when you're not wearing anything under your shirts? love this perfect tits of yours" you moan when his fingers are toying with your nipples at the same time he decides to move his hips to meet your movements, making him reach deeper inside of you.
anyone who came out of the bar sober enough could see what was going out inside of the impala, the sight of you bouncing with your eyes closed and mouth open as you moaned loudly enough to be heard if someone came closer to the car, it only turned you on more and it showed in the way your pussy clenched around dean like a vice, his strokes only going faster and harder when your legs started to fail you to keep on bouncing on him "who would have thought you would like to be seen getting fucked like a whore, mhm, you enjoy the way everyone knows you're getting dicked down so good, baby?" and you nod, your moans making it hard for you to speak properly, dean is laughing at you and it's humillating but it also makes you hornier "dean... i need to cum, please" your pleas are met with a hard squeeze on your tits and a hard thrust "really, bunny?" he asks with a smirk, hands back on your waist before he leans in to press a kiss on your back "do it, baby, cum all over my cock" and it takes you nothing, your pussy is squeezing him hard making a dark growl escape him and you're about to ask him to fill you up when dean lifts you, sitting you on his lap " 'm not filling your greedy pussy, love, not like you deserve it" he grunts, his hand around his dick as he strokes himself.
dean growls behind you, he's fisting his cock and moving his hand using your wetness to make his task easier and the lewd sounds make you eager to feel his hot load wherever he wants to put it on you "mhm, want me to cum on your dirty body, slut?" he asks with a smirk as his hand slows down for a bit "yes, please..." you say softly and it's the only thing dean needs before he cums behind you, white streaks painting your back and ass as he bites your shoulder harshly "there you go, huh... such a nasty whore" dean mutters on your neck, kissing your skin and nibbling on it "the best fuck i've had lately"
#mara's thoughts#dean winchester#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x f!reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female!reader#supernatural
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2 part question 🤔
1. How would Aizawa react to his girlfriend having a tattoo he didn't know about?
2. Same with hawks but his case discovering wings tattooed on her back cuz she always wanted to fly?
This is awesome sweet anonie *rubbing hands together*
Please do not read if you're a minor
Hawks :
The moment he unintentionally walked in on you while changing into something a bit more comfortable, was the moment his mind went blank for the very first time in his life. Reason? The majestic wings branded on your delicate skin and reaching the curve of your lower back.
He stood there for a few seconds, mouth agape and eyes almost popping out of their sockets until you noticed his presence.
You were mortified, a shriek leaving your throat as you ran around the room looking for something, anything, to cover your naked body. It hadn't occurred to you -until he finally spoke- that the reason of his stare was actually the tattoo, which in your panic fit, forgot it even existed.
_ "Wings huh? Is that for my benefit?" he soon regained his composure and approached you while voicing his statement.
_ "Don't flatter yourself, this has nothing to do with you." you were still running around aimlessly, cursing under your breath as every article of clothing had miraculously disappeared.
_ "Here, wear this," he wanted you to stop moving around for a minute, this was a grand discovery and he needed to hear more, "then..?"
You huffed awkwardly as you wished to appear calm, but it wasn't working, "it's because, being able to fly is an amazing gift that I don't possess, but I still enjoy the illusion." the words sounded stupid in your ear, but oh well..
_ "I get it, it's freeing," he pondered for a moment before shouting enthusiastically, "I'll fly with you whenever you want! I'll carry you in my arms and show you the world from above!"
He looked like a little kid, too excited while sharing his idea, and you couldn't help the smile spreading across your face as you watched his wings flapping with joy.
That was his gift for you, one you had to later return while being on all fours and giving him a show of your art that curved and twisted with every snap of his hips..
Aizawa :
There you were, sprawled out in his bed, with your flushed skin and heaving chest as you revealed your naked body to him for the very first time.
You were anxious, excited, scared, happy, all at the same time. Being intimate meant a great deal to both of you, trusting each other and sharing your bodies with one another was a big step forward in your relationship.
However, there was one particular thing that you had failed to divulge before taking said step, and it was the tattoo branding your skin in an unnoticeable spot.
You couldn't truly understand why you had to keep it hidden, was it perhaps that you wanted to surprise him when the time comes? Or maybe because you were just too nervous about his reaction that you chose to postpone it and hope for the best when it was time for him to see it.
Whatever the reason might be, it was irrelevant at that moment, since his reaction made up for it.
He was speechless at first, but only for a brief moment, his stunned expression soon turned into an amused one, and his impatient fingers traced the expanse of your inked skin, saying no words as he did, but oh dear was he intrigued.
You watched carefully as he licked his lips and hummed delightfully, eyes going over the beautiful design upon your flesh again and again and again, as if to memorize every little detail it held, and right when you were about to open your mouth and speak, he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on the art you had successfully kept concealed for a long while.
_ "You're full of surprises gorgeous, now let's see what else you're hiding." was what he growled against your skin, right before settling between your legs.
You said nothing afterwards, sinking into the soft bedsheets underneath yourself, and sucking in a sharp breath as the stiffness of the bulge nudging your thigh, was a sign of what awaited you..
#aizawa shota x reader#aizawa shota x y/n#shouta aizawa smut#shouta aizawa fluff#shouta aizawa imagine#shouta aizawa headcanons#hawks smut#hawks imagine#hawks x reader#hawks fluff#hawks headcanons#keigo takami smut#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami fluff#keigo takami x y/n#aizawa shota smut#aizawa shota x you
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Old Habits Die Hard Part 1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: Bradley is a student at UVA when he falls for the most unexpected girl. But she's the one who can see past his scars and the doors he keeps closed.
Warnings: Angst, swears, mention of sex
Length: 3500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)
Check my profile for my masterlist
Bradley tried to roll over in his bed, but he felt the weight of someone draped across him as he tried to remember how much he drank last night. Probably half a case of beer. He had no idea if he had taken Phoebe or someone else to bed.
He opened one eye against the bright sunlight and pushed the tall blonde off of him. "Phoebe. Wake up."
She groaned in response, but her naked body rolled off of his enough that he was able to stand up. He pulled on his underwear and wandered out into the hallway in the direction of music blaring from the front bedroom.
"Turn it the fuck down!" he yelled as he made his way to the disgusting bathroom he shared with Tyson. He really needed to take some time to clean this place up, but he never let Phoebe stay long after she woke up, and none of the other girls ever complained much.
Bradley splashed some water on his face, looked in the mirror and grimaced. He ran his fingers along the scars smattering his face and neck. The raised, pink flesh was supposedly going to fade over time, but he wasn't so sure he believed the doctors. It all looked virtually the same now in January as it had in July when the incident happened.
Regardless, he fucking hated looking in the mirror now. He used the toilet and washed his hands without another glance at himself.
When he made it back to his room, after a quick detour to turn down the stereo, he found Phoebe was up and out of bed.
She yawned a few times before she pulled on her shirt and then shimmied into her tiny thong. Bradley knew her body like the back of his hand. They'd been fucking since they were freshmen. Now they were both seniors at the University of Virginia, and they were still regularly fucking. He sometimes even called her when he was lonely. She was the closest thing to a girlfriend he had ever had.
"Where the hell are my jeans?" she asked, looking around his room. He picked them up from the foot of his bed and handed them to her. She mumbled something at him and pulled them on. "Are we partying again tonight?" she asked, kissing his scarred cheek as she reached for her phone.
Bradley had apparently enjoyed more than her company last night, if the condom wrapper next to the bed had anything to say for itself. But he knew Saturday night at his fraternity house would offer him some more variety. "Not sure yet," he told her as she headed for his bedroom door. "I'll call you later."
Phoebe waved goodbye and left the door open, and he dropped back onto his bed. He had a good view of the exterior of his white bedroom door, which was covered in multicolored sharpie. It was a collection of girls' names and phone numbers, little love notes, and the occasional cluster of hearts. But right in the middle in bold, black writing was where Phoebe had written her name. As if she had the right of first refusal on his dick.
Bradley's phone was just as bad. His contact list was a collection of first names and phone numbers of girls he could barely remember meeting. And it's not that he wasn't picky, but he just really liked girls. And they all seemed to really like him back. Last weekend he got a blowjob from Janessa and he still ended up with Phoebe in his bed for the night. Being with her was just easy for him. It didn't take any work. When one of them wanted it, the other was there. But the minute he felt like putting in a little effort, he could have pretty much whomever he liked.
So he'd just keep his options open for the evening, feeling like maybe he'd meet someone brand new.
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You were finally able to admit to yourself that you had a small crush on Jeff. He was obviously cute, and he was studying your major and always made Dean's list. He was friendly and funny, and he never picked on you for hanging out in the library so much. You'd started hoping he would ask you out.
But he was in a fraternity. Major turn off. He invited you to the frat house every weekend, and after weeks of turning him down, you finally agreed to meet him there on Saturday night. His face had lit up with an adorable smile, and he already claimed you as a beer pong partner. But you knew the place would be swarming with girls, ones who were prettier than you, and more outgoing with bigger boobs.
Maybe if he was still paying attention to you when there was a parade of other girls present, you should just ask him out yourself. After studying in the library all day, you packed up your books and headed home to get changed.
Janessa was there, fresh out of the shower and putting makeup on in the kitchen where the light was good. "Are you going to the Beta Gamma house tonight?" you asked her, setting your bag down in the tiny living room of your shared apartment.
"Yes," she replied, swiping on some mascara. "Got my eye on a few of those Beta boys."
You froze and asked, "Which ones?"
She just laughed. "Don't worry, not your buddy Jeff. He's too skinny and blond. I like 'em tall, dark and handsome."
You let out a sigh of relief. No way you could compete with Janessa for Jeff's attention. No way you could compete with her for any guy's attention. Janessa was what every guy would consider hot. She was simply just the definition of the word.
You, on the other hand, were lucky to get called cute. If someone noticed you, it was probably because there was no better option around. But that was fine with you, because when guys ended up with a crush on you, it was because they actually liked you.
"I might ask Jeff out after tonight," you told your roommate, who squealed and started doing your makeup as well.
"You should! Want me to ask one of the other guys if he's interested in you? He's pretty tight with Tyson and Bradley. Maybe we could have a double date!"
"I mean... I guess if it comes up in conversation?" you replied. "But don't embarrass me, please! I'm awkward enough already."
"Hush, you are not awkward. You are adorable. Now stop moving so I can do your eyes."
And this is how you ended up arriving at the packed Beta house where the music was blaring and there were six kegs lined up. Janessa led you inside, and you immediately caught sight of Jeff, hanging out with some of the other guys and drinking from a red solo cup.
"Hey!" he called out to you. "You made it! I'll get you a beer." Jeff made his way over to you, all smiles. You expected to feel that little jolt go through your system when he touched your arm, but you were so distracted, you barely noticed him.
Because Janessa was sidling up between two guys, and the one she had just wrapped her arms around was looking right at you. He was tall with wavy brown hair, and he looked like the kind of guy who would be more than happy to get you into a little trouble.
"You coming?" Jeff asked, reaching for your hand.
"Mmm, oh, yeah. Sorry." It took you a second to realize you were holding hands with him. It honestly didn't feel as special as you thought it would. You wanted to know more about the guy Janessa was with, but you remembered her words from earlier. He must be one of the guys she was interested in.
Well, fuck.
So you focused on Jeff instead. You listened to him ramble about some of your professors, and you got in line for the kegs.
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For a split second, Bradley was tempted to flirt with Janessa again. But then he remembered the terrible blowjob she gave him, and decided he'd rather just find Phoebe later. But then he saw who Janessa walked in with, and he thought maybe there was a third option. You were so cute.
But Jeff walked over to you, acting like you and he were a done deal, and Bradley realized you must have been the girl Jeff knew from class, the one he never stopped talking about.
"Bradley!" Janessa purred as she flung her arms around him. Her outfit was basically nonexistent, and everywhere he tried to put his hands, he seemed to be touching her skin.
"What's up, Janessa?" he mumbled.
But you were looking at him. You made solid eye contact and licked your lips before you wandered off, holding hands with Jeff.
"Hey, who is that girl you come here with?" Bradley asked Janessa, keeping his eyes on you until you rounded the corner and vanished from sight.
"Oh, that's my roommate, Y/N," she replied, kissing his neck. Bradley pulled away from her. He didn't like when anyone touched his scars. Not even Phoebe. "She's super into Jeff. Has he talked about her at all?"
Of course Jeff had talked about you. According to him, you were smart and funny, and now Bradley knew for a fact that you were also pretty hot. But he decided to lie. "Nope. Not that I know of."
Bradley finished his beer and tossed the cup in the trash, heading off in the direction you went with Jeff. Of course Janessa was immediately on Tyson's crotch, but Bradley really didn't give a shit. He finally caught up to you and Jeff outside near the kegs. Jeff was talking nonstop as he pumped the keg of shitty beer and handed you a cup.
"Come on man, get her a good beer from the fridge inside," Bradley interjected, just as you were about to take a sip. "This stuff is shit."
You turned to look at him, lowering the red cup from your pouty lips and raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I prefer this shit," you told him with a smirk. You were wearing some makeup, but less than the other girls. Your jeans were snug, but not tight. Your shirt was just short enough that Bradley could see the inch of skin above your jeans, but only when you shrugged your shoulders.
Fuck. Jeff draped his arm around your shoulders, and for some reason that really irritated Bradley. So he just smirked right back at you and said, "If you prefer that shit, then I can understand why you're hanging out with Jeff tonight instead of me. There's no accounting for taste."
"Hey!" Jeff complained, but Bradley got you to crack a genuine smile. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop from laughing, but your shoulders shook a little bit with amusement.
You grinned at Bradley and then Jeff as well. "Okay, now I'm a little afraid to admit that I would probably prefer one of the non-shitty beers."
Bradley nodded his head toward the house. "Come with me. I need another one anyway, and then I'll bring you back out to Jeff."
He watched as you extracted yourself from Jeff's arm, which made Bradley smile. He heard you say, "I'll be back," as Bradley guided you inside with his hand gently on your back.
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You didn't know why you ditched Jeff for this guy you had never met before, but you couldn't seem to help yourself. You didn't even know his name, but you let him lead you back inside the Beta fraternity house, his hand sliding ever lower on your back.
It was so loud inside, you could feel your whole body vibrating along with the music that was playing. But he kept you moving at a steady pace toward the kitchen where it was a little quieter.
"Take your pick," he told you when he opened the refrigerator door. Every single shelf was lined with bottles and cans of beer. There were a few bottles of liquor and some different mixers on the door, but you grabbed a bottle of one of your favorite beers and turned to him.
"Thanks, whatever your name is," you said with another smirk.
"You're welcome, Y/N," he replied, taking the bottle from your hand and opening it with a bottle opener he pulled from a drawer.
"How do you know my name?" you asked him, slightly surprised. You were not the type of girl who would normally be found here, or at any Greek house on campus.
He smiled. "You're Janessa's roommate. And Jeff has a crush on you. You're famous by name and reputation."
Your heart was beating faster now as he handed the bottle back to you. His fingertips lingered on yours for a few seconds, and you imagined kissing him. This was the way you expected your body to feel when Jeff touched you, but there was no comparison.
"Are you planning on telling me your name?" you asked him, taking a sip of beer.
"Maybe," he replied, selecting a beer of his own. His voice was deep and raspy, and he had a lot of scars on his face and neck. They looked pretty new, but you couldn't help but find them just as attractive as the rest of him. You wanted to touch that long scar that ran along his neck. You wondered what he would do if you did.
"If you won't tell me, then I'll give you a nickname."
He grinned. "This should be good," he said over the loud music.
You took a long drink of beer and said, "Okay, Beer Boy. How about I head back outside with Jeff where it's quieter? I'll catch you later?"
But he just shook his head. "You want quiet, then you should come upstairs with me. My room is downright peaceful compared to the rest of the house."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "You think I was born yesterday, Beer Boy?"
He looked at you, all innocent, wide brown eyes. "No, I would assume you're at least 18 if you're in college. How old are you?"
"I'm 21. But that has nothing to do with the fact that I'm not going upstairs alone with you," you replied.
"We wouldn't be alone," he said, sipping his own beer. "I'm sure Tyson and Janessa are up there doing all sorts of things. But I can take you back outside to your boyfriend if that's what you want."
You rolled your eyes. "Jeff isn't my boyfriend," you told him, raising your voice over the noisy party. You may have been mistaken, but his eyes seemed to light up.
"Music to my ears," he muttered. "Come upstairs with me. I promise I won't touch you unless you want me to."
You almost choked on your beer. "You are seriously cocky, Beer Boy."
"You wanna know my name, don't you?" he asked, and you nodded. "Come upstairs with me and I'll tell you."
You eyed him carefully. "And you won't touch me?"
His eyes drifted over your face and down to your chest. "Sadly, no. I won't."
You couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled out of you. This was really quite fun. He was goofy and flirtatious, but he wasn't creeping you out.
"Okay, but I'm only agreeing so I can learn your name. Then I'm coming right back down here," you told him.
With a smile, he took your hand and led you out of the kitchen and into the distressingly loud living room. Two hallways later, he was leading you up the stairs to a much quieter second floor. You were pleased to find several other people were hanging out up here as well.
"What's your name, Beer Boy?" you asked. He responded by lacing his fingers through yours, and you immediately thought about kissing him again.
He stopped in front of a door covered in writing. "I'm Bradley," he told you, pulling you a little closer with your connected hands.
"Bradley," you repeated. He nodded at you, looking a little apprehensive.
He nudged the door open with his foot, but you didn't move. You just looked at the writing all over his door. Girly handwriting in every color imaginable adorned the white paint. Tessa, Meg, Julie, Kendra, Ebony, Shannon, Luz, Gabby, Willow. The list went on, and so did the phone numbers and scrawled notes.
"Don't look at that. Please," he muttered. You saw his Adam's apple bob against his long scar as he swallowed hard. His eyes seemed to be pleading with you, so you looked away from the door and into his bedroom. It was actually pretty tidy, and it was lit by his desk lamp with a US Navy emblem on the side.
"You said you weren't going to touch me," you told him, and he immediately pulled his hand away from yours.
"I'm sorry," Bradley said right away, looking completely abashed now.
"That's okay," you told him as you walked past him into his room. The music was distant enough that you could use your normal voice up here. "Is it cool if I look around?"
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He followed you into his room and watched you examining his things. Every few steps, you turned to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyelashes were long, and he loved the curve of your cheek. He was dying to touch your hair, taste your skin and feel you against him.
Usually he wore his bedroom door like a badge of honor. But when you looked at it, he felt a little embarrassed. Not that you had said anything or looked at him any certain way, but he didn't want you to judge him quite yet. Especially not based on that.
He took a long drink from his bottle of beer, draining it in the process. He was attracted to you. Like all of you. Jeff had been right; you were funny and smart. But Bradley had no expectations that you would feel the same way about him. However, he would keep you up here as long as you would stay, because somehow he knew, in the back recesses of his mind, that you were giving him an important seal of approval.
"You have a lot of Navy stuff," you commented, running your fingers along his dad's dog tags.
He nodded when you looked over your shoulder. "I do. It was my dad's."
Bradley wasn't sure if Phoebe even knew his dad had been in the navy. He didn't know why he was telling you.
"And you have a lot of textbooks," you said as you flipped through his economics notes.
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that tends to happen when you're a student."
You rolled your eyes. "I just meant that you frat bros don't usually study. I have never once seen you in the library before."
Bradley grinned. "You like to hang out in the library?"
"Yeah. So what?" you asked, seemingly used to getting picked on for it.
"Hey, just because I don't go to the library, that doesn't mean I don't study. I have a 3.85 GPA."
You turned toward him and nodded like you were impressed. "Wow. But you shouldn't say that too loudly, or you may get kicked out of your fraternity."
Bradley shook his head as you turned toward his bed. He was pretty sure he had never had a girl in his room this long with her clothes still on. He was about to suggest grabbing two more beers when your phone rang.
"It's Jeff," you said casually, ignoring the call. "I should probably go back down and find him."
Bradley just watched you tuck your phone back into your jeans pocket. You took the last sip of your beer and headed for the door. You eyed the names written there before turning back toward him with a small smile. "Maybe I'll see you around?" you asked.
"I hope so," he told you as you disappeared into the hallway.
And then you were gone. The apprehension he usually felt was creeping back in now. He wondered what you thought about his scars. He hadn't given them any thought while you'd been with him. He couldn't tell if you were outwardly flirting with him, and he knew there was something between you and Jeff, but Bradley definitely wanted to see you again.
But now he was alone. And he was lonely. So he called Phoebe. Within a few minutes, she was in his room. And after a few minutes more, she was in his bed.
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Eeek, I hope you like this version of our Bradley! A huge thank you to @mak-32 for helping me with this fic! It's for you, Mak!
PART 2
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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster fanfic#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster x you#rooster x female reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#rooster bradshaw x female reader#rooster x reader#top gun rooster
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In defense of Andrew Graves: Facing Yourself
Alt title: Andrew Graves: The Will to Plow Her
I think my analysis of Andrew is one of the best essays I've written so far. But since then, I think I've expanded my understanding of his character in a way that urges me to add on to my prior essay. What I intend on doing is further fleshing out my reading of Burial, and going deeper in detail on why I think Decay ends up panning out the way it does. This essay will end up sharing a lot of text with my prior one, but will add enough scattered throughout that I think it merits a complete reread instead of just scrolling down and seeing what's new.
I've focused a lot on Ashley in my past writings. She's my favorite character in the story (and depending on how episode 3 pans out, maybe ever) and I'm pretty mortified by how some parts of the fandom have reacted towards her, so I pretty much made it my life's mission to push back against that. From highlighting the ways Andrew mistreats her, to coming up with justifications for her behavior that aren't just being a manipulative bitch, I really wanted to prove that a more favorable picture of her could be painted than most were willing to.
But in doing so, I've left Andrew in the dust.
In highlighting his flaws and the ways he mistreats Ashley, I think I've implied a level of intentionality to his actions that I don't believe he has. When I say that Ashley did nothing wrong, it's in direct response to the idea that she holds the most responsibility and agency in how their dynamic plays out, when in reality, I believe she has very little. Most of her actions in-story are in reaction to a variety of stimuli that come directly from Andrew, that he has control over and are aware of how Ashley feels about. His refusal to use clear and direct language to deny her most toxic tendencies causes her more and more stress as time goes on, and instead of giving her clear answers he opts to be catty, passive-aggressive, or, at his worst, threatening. Never direct and never clear, except when establishing boundaries over his name after the choking scene. Andrew fails to help Ashley be better in some frankly depressing ways throughout the whole story, especially in their childhoods, so we never get to see where she'd fall short if given a better influence.
...
Kind of. More on that later!
In mentioning his thing about preferring to be called Andrew instead of Andy, I also implicitly mention one of the places where Ashley falls short in their dynamic and could stand to do better: recognition.
This scene says a lot. It's the most heartbreaking scene in the game, if you ask me, and probably the single most profound and well-written moment in the entire story. I could write a whole 2000 word essay on it alone, but I've already said most of what I have to say about it through what I've said in other essays, so I'll spare you all that. Instead, I'll use it to highlight something:
"I had fun."
Their dysfunction is fun to her. She's so used to abuse and alienation that even the most awful, stressful (as far as we know) route of the game is still fun to her. And that's not a sign of her being a secret evil sociopath or whatever; that's actually not abnormal behavior to develop for a lifelong victim of abuse. Those highs and lows, those strong emotional highs and lows are -addicting-. They're -fun.- Part of why abuse victims get into so many abusive relationships is because it's easy to pick up on those patterns of thought and take advantage of them, and the cycle of abuse is often furthered when a victim of abuse tries to draw out mutually abusive behaviors in someone with no interest in having that kind of dynamic.
This is where I'm willing to acknowledge Ashley's manipulative tendencies. Not just as a matter of controlling Andrew for its own sake, purely out of jealousy or possessiveness, but as a matter of trying to further the only dynamic she's ever known in her life. Better the devil you know, right?
That push and pull- that emotional rollercoaster- is all many of us know. And it's all Ashley knows. This dynamic is something she's so used to that she reacts incredibly harshly to any attempt to change it, because she doesn't know that things can be better. Because of this, she refuses to engage with who Andrew really is, and tells herself- and him- that she *hates* Andrew:
This scene is almost as heartbreaking as the above one in a lot of ways.
Andrew putting his foot down about the Andy/Andrew name dichotomy wasn't arbitrary and it wasn't just about his comfort. It was about Andrew giving a clear indication about what needs to happen for their relationship to improve. He's recognizing the cycle between them and wants to put a stop to it, because he's confident that things between them CAN get better and evolve into something healthier. Ashley, not understanding that their dynamic can get better, because their "fun" little push and pull of abuse is all she knows, rejects that. She rejects the unknown, and says- in Andrew's mind at least- that she'll never accept that new dynamic, nor will she accept who he really is.
Ouch. No wonder he looks so sad in that screenshot.
They have a conflict of understanding here, and I think it's fair to pin most of the responsibility on Ashley. Andrew was clear in what he wanted, and Ashley just... Didn't. She didn't see the importance of it ("...whatever that means in practice") and didn't really ask. This gap in communication, perfectly displayed in this scene, is likely what causes the Decay ending. He wants things to be better, and wants to treat Ashley better, and whether or not he understands the ways in which she communicates with him is in part what determines what he sees her as.
But there's a lot of evidence that he always wanted things to be better, that he always wanted to treat her better. But external factors have made it very, very difficult, and I think there are two key points in which he started to shed the importance of those external factors and seek that better relationship, both of which happening in the apartment: The killing of the warden and the 302 lady. In the first case, he was forced to do it to protect Ashley in a way he hadn't done before, or depending on how you look at it, since the death of Nina. But the intentionality was the key point here. After this point, he calls Ashley Leyley, which may or may not seem important at this point, but it's something I'll draw attention to later, so keep that in mind.
Next is the killing of the 302 lady, which is the much, much bigger point. We don't learn much about it until later on- as at first he just gives an excuse about the nail gun that doesn't line up with what we see on the map- but during the dream, it's revealed it was a calculated, intentional killing that he did to make sure there was no evidence left behind, and because Ashley (supposedly) would've wanted him to do it anyway. I say supposedly because Ashley herself doesn't seem to ever want Andrew to kill for her past Nina's death, because he only ever kills for her to defend one or both of them. If you want more evidence that violence for violence's sake isn't something she wants, look at this part in the final dream:
A knife isn't what opens the door, despite it being placed on the ground in that very map. While it seems obvious that the knife (violence) would be the key to solving the puzzle, it's put there explicitly to show you that it isn't. It's not what she wants; what she wants is a flower.
So, why is this important? Why am I centering Ashley- again- when this essay is supposed to be about Andrew?
It's because these two killings are when Andrew's self-delusion over who he really is starts to break down. It's still there, mind, as he still relies upon Ashley as an excuse to justify it, but, as well as what I've said before, the name ultimatum is an implicit confession that the normalcy he finds comfort in is starting to lose its grasp on him. There's a lot that's been said about Andy being something close to a "moral impulse" for Andrew, given his child self's reaction to Nina's death being the only thing he does that approximates a normal moral response to his and Ashley's actions, but if you do think that- which I think is a reasonable thing to think even if I don't necessarily agree- there's something you must also keep in mind:
-He- is the one who doesn't want to be called that anymore. -He- is the one who wants to let that moral impulse go, and Ashley is the one making it difficult.
That reading is assuming that Andy is a moral impulse, which I think is... either wrong or too simplistic. Every time I see that reading, it's from someone who's trying to paint him too sympathetically and absolve him of most moral responsibility. I also find it infantilizing to equate morality with childhood in such a way? But that's another tangent that I didn't sign up to talk about. What I do think, however, is that it's a useful framing device to display his own relationship with morality; the allegory to his child self doesn't have to be there for the general pattern to exist.
When Ashley starts to grill Andrew over the killing of the 302 lady, he gets mad. Very mad. Ashley sees it as pointless, as him covering his own ass, but he genuinely did it for her sake, because he thought that's what she wanted, and that it'd make her happy. But what makes her happy isn't violence- or any similarly extreme action for that matter- it's attention and validation. Something he's always reluctant to give her, despite the fact that he always chose her over the alternatives. But despite making that choice, it's always empty and meaningless, because in Ashley's mind, he never did it for her sake.
And hoo boy, does he not like it being framed like this.
He is perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and safe... but only for her sake. It has to be for her sake. He still needs that traditional role, and he still needs to have a narrative in which he's the good guy- a protector. Because it can't be for his sake. It can't be because that's what he wants. He has to uphold that romantic (in the literary tradition sense) ideal. His darkly romantic idealistic streak colors many of his actions and beliefs. This is most plainly visible in his quip about a double suicide being romantic, but it's also visible within the symbolism present within his dream, such as how he can only pave his own path in blood unless Ashley lights the way. It's visible within his appreciation for poetry, and it's visible with how the cultist within the dream speaks in Shakespearean English.
But the transient nature of this ideal is also revealed within this dream, because there's never a cohesive, guided path, even with Ashley there to light it up. Contrary to Ashley's dream, where you literally have maps showing you where to go, Andrew's dream has many more dead ends and no map to guide him. The symbolic role he acts out gives him no clarity, and there's no overarching narrative; merely a bunch of disconnected symbols.
This is contrasted with Ashley's dream, which has narratives so clear that the story literally gives the dream an episode title.
In a sense, he wants to view himself as an actor acting out a role in a story. He wants his life to be poetic, to represent something greater, and to have a cohesive narrative. This is why he's so disconnected from his true desires: He's more concerned with acting as a representative of an ideal than a person with agency. But every time the mask drops, every time he stops acting, his true self becomes visible. He naturally settles into being comfortable around Ashley, in treating her with warmth and kindness, and their banter becomes much less toxic. As intent as he is on acting out his role, it does nothing for him, and as his dream sequence shows, it doesn't even form a cohesive narrative, because he can't act one out. It's too contrary to who he really is, and what he really wants. But that idealization doesn't just apply to himself, it also applies to Ashley. Specifically, who Ashley is, vs who he wants her to be.
In his unique dream sequence, he sees two versions of Ashley; the child version of her- Leyley- and the adult version of her- Ashley. And the differences in the ways he interacts with the two of them are stunning. Leyley is an obstinate, annoying child. She's the one he NEEDS to take care of, and he hates that. He hates Leyley for what she did for his childhood. He hates that he needs to provide for her. He has the option of trying to kill her, even, over something as small as a candle!
But in the room with all the murders, the gilded cage, he sees Ashley as an adult. This version of Ashley is stuck in a closet that he himself has to open- and to choose to see. Their interactions are calm and friendly. She teases him a bit, sure, but she's still helpful, and they have fun together. He doesn't need her, and she doesn't need him. He needed Leyley- needed the candle- but here, there are other limbs strewn about for him to take. And, crucially, he doesn't even have the option to kill this Ashley for one of the limbs.
And during the choking scene, he lets her go the moment she acknowledges that he doesn't need her anymore. This is the first time we know of that he seems comfortable enough to set a clear boundary, which is acknowledging that their prior dynamic is dead and that they're now Andrew and Ashley, not Andy and Leyley. It's a bit late to express a clear boundary -after- literally acting like he was going to kill someone, but it's the first time we know of that he sets a clear standard for what, in his mind, would improve his relationship with Ashley.
After all, what he wants is to want her, not need her. He wants Ashley for Ashley's sake. Not for what she can provide him. He doesn't even need her for sleep, he just wants her. But Ashley has trouble acknowledging this, because he's never before shown that WANT. Only a NEED. She keeps trying to find ways to make him need her, because she's never seen what his desire for her is really like. She's only ever seen him desiring someone else, someone other than her.
She's only ever seen him as Andy, because she's never truly seen Andrew, only the violence he can inflict on others. But Andrew can see both:
He can see Leyley, the needy, bratty child who always needs his attention, that he needs to provide for. The one he hates and wants to get rid of. The one he kills for to protect.
And he can see Ashley, the one who engages in friendly and cute banter with him. Who comforts and shows him physical affection. The one he loves. The one he kills for to make happy.
He just can't choose which one he wants to see. Every outside influence- from his parents, to Julia, to Nina- makes him see her as Leyley. Ashley herself makes him see her as Leyley too, whenever she brings up all the things he did for her, and calls him Andy, his child self, instead of Andrew, his current self. And as long as he sees that child, he feels like one too, and can never give Ashley anything that comes from the heart.
But he really, really wants to see Ashley as an adult. He wants to take pride in her, how much she's grown, and how driven and competent she really is.
But god damn, does that bitch ever make it hard, because there IS no real difference between Ashley and Leyley. She's grown and changed over time, taking more adult (and stereotypically feminine) responsibility upon herself, but the fact that her temperament and personality hasn't changed much obfuscates that growth. When you talk to Ashley in the closet during the dream after getting the limb, Andrew asks Ashley to come out of the closet, but she refuses to come out because he won't invite Leyley over to play, which is a pretty strong metaphor for how he interfaces with different aspects of Ashley's personality and refuses to accept others. But the reality is that he needs to accept both, or rather, see her whole self as Ashley, rather than just the parts he likes.
In the end, it's him who has to make the choice how to see her. Ashley can only see what she's been shown, but Andrew can choose.
And in the basement scene, he makes that choice.
If Ashley refuses to leave him alone with their parents, that's it. In one of the most critical and important moments of his life, she couldn't give him the space needed to make up his own mind. She couldn't treat him as an adult. She couldn't see him as Andrew. If she does give him that choice, she chooses to acknowledge that Andrew is an adult who can be trusted to make his own decisions, even though she (perhaps foolishly) believes that this choice lines up with her own interests. And frankly it does either way, but in accepting their mom's offer, her chooses to see her as Leyley once and for all. He chooses not to reciprocate what Ashley showed him. He does it because he needs to, not because he wants to. Because it's his duty, not his desire.
This is what results in the Decay ending. Through his inability to see Ashley as an adult, he surrenders his agency and views all of his actions as an extension of his responsibilities, his role, which he no longer wishes to uphold. He dissociates fully from who he really is, acting in accordance with that disconnected, barely-cohesive narrative that exists only within his mind. The game starts to resemble the heartwrenching tragedy that many seem to take for granted that it is, as their dynamic fully doubles down on its painful toxicity. And, in an example of a poetic book end, Ashley's dream shows a double suicide, closing the book on their tragic tale.
It's tragic. It's heartwrenching. It's poetic. It's beautiful.
...Except it's not. Not at all.
It's actually fucking stupid, pointless, and brutal, and Burial shows us that. When we view their spiral as beautiful, we project the same darkly romantic ideal that Andrew possesses onto the story.
But the actual reality is horrifying.
Ashley spends most of Decay terrified of Andrew, the one person she found comfort in. He acts cold, distant, and aggressive towards her, showing pointless cruelty instead of any warmth. All she wants is comfort; all she wants is to not die. She doesn't want to engage in this death spiral at all, and, in her dream sequence, shows none of the same willingness to die alongside Andrew that Andrew does with her. The moment we stop focusing on the end of the Decay dream sequence, which has very striking imagery, and if you choose not to shoot, one of the most beautiful scenes in the game, we can see it for what it really is:
A scared animal running away from a predator.
The moment you see Decay through Ashley's eyes, and not the perspective of some romantic ideal, Decay becomes terrifying, tense, and painful. There is no catharsis to be had in this tragedy. It's easily avoidable as long as Andrew chooses to engage with reality, and not the empty promises of his mother and incoherent narrative of his ideal.
Finding beauty and meaning in tragedy is how we cope with the harshness of reality. But there is no coherent narrative to the tragedies we experience, just like there's no coherent narrative to the ideal Andrew wishes to uphold. It's something we create- that he creates- but it's not something that actually exists.
And when Andrew casts aside his desire for that ideal, and the responsibilities it shackles him to, it grants him clarity that he never had before. He sees the world for how it really is, and acknowledges that nobody- the least of which their mother- is as different from Ashley as they pretend to be.
They're no better than her, and he's tired of people pretending that they are. People are all the same, no matter what ideals they try to uphold and represent. They still sacrifice others in the name of advancing themselves, still punch down whenever they can, and still lay blame on those beneath them rather than try to take control of their lives. They just use those ideals to justify themselves, but Ashley, and now Andrew, reject even the need for that justification.
This is why I believe the story is nihilistic. Not in that it asserts the inherent meaninglessness of life, but in that it grapples with the ideals we uphold and how they obfuscate the reality of the world we live in. The story, intentionally or not, highlights how ideals are often but a pretense we use to justify what we were likely going to do regardless, and how holding to them too strongly can lead to our ruin- and how monstrous they make us look to those who do not share them.
Consequently, this is how I view the part of the fanbase who thinks Decay is a good ending.
(the characters themselves represent existentialism rather than nihilism but i couldn't really fit that analysis in here without it feeling forced so i might cover that another time)
From that point on, their relationship becomes a lot more friendly, lighthearted, and playful. They ironically start acting more like children, but to quote CS Lewis:
"Critics who treat adult as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence."
He's not ashamed of being playful with Ashley, or showing affection towards her. He's grown up. He finally sees her, and himself, as an adult- although he still doesn't show that in full until much later on (more or that later). But in Decay, he still sees her as a child, and to an extent, probably himself. Let's compare the ways in which he reacts to being called Andy. In Decay, he lashes out at Ashley and gets angry, even threatening her. But in Questionable Burial, he calmly says that Andy is dead and doesn't need Ashley's comfort, but still tries to reassure her that she's still needed. He's not ashamed of or hostile towards their prior dynamic, because he's grown past it. He still acknowledges Ashley's need to feel needed, but here, he recognizes its importance to her, whereas he was hostile towards it before.
It's a display of respect towards her feelings.
This interaction doesn't happen in the Sane ending, however. He doesn't play games with her and is just a lot less fun to be around all together. Why is that? Because he still hasn't yet shaken viewing Ashley as Leyley there. He still views her as a burden, as someone who needs taking care of. He's calmly accepted that, too, mind you, but he lacks respect for her because she's still a child, in his mind. But in Questionable?
The vision did more than just make him extremely embarrassed and lay his deepest desires bare. It forced him to recognize Ashley as an adult. When choosing between "Never" and "Never say never," if Never is chosen, the burden of thought is lifted off of him. But if Ashley chooses "Never say never!", he has to reckon with the fact that Ashley is an adult, someone who can consent to those kinds of things. Someone who MIGHT. Someone who has agency, and can make her own decisions. And more importantly… someone who can trust him to make his own.
Whether he desires sex or not is secondary; he's always had those feelings and has always been ashamed of them. But now that the part of him where that shame came from is dead and buried, there's no childish impulse to grow up. There's no attachment to the hate and bitterness he had before. Look at what he worries about when he picks up that she's uncertain or confused about who he is now:
It's her feelings.
He wants to be fun to be around. He wants to make Ashley happy. He loves her, and not as a romantic interest or even as a sibling. He loves her independent of all that baggage.
He loves her as a person.
Their relationship runs contrary to societal ideals in some pretty huge ways. So contrary, in fact, that it's hard for some to accept it as anything good, that it can ever be best for the people involved. It's incestuous. It involves them killing and eating their parents. It involves them distancing themselves so much from society that it's hard to believe they'll ever fit in it again. It's chaotic, it's messy, it's codependent, and maybe even toxic. And yet, here they are. They're coexisting. They're happy. They're healing. They're navigating the world in the only way they can: together.
Meanwhile, in Decay, Andrew refuses to allow himself to get closer to Ashley. He surrenders all agency to her, buys into his own narrative, drinks his own Kool-Aid, and may or may not condemn one or both of them to death in the process. Like it or not, the only path where Andrew takes ownership of his life is the one where he's closest to his sister. It's the one where he decides where they will go next, the one where he decides his own feelings matter, and acts in accordance with what he wants instead of how he thinks he should act.
His agency, his freedom, and his growth don't happen in spite of his codependency; they're happen because of it. They can't grow alone. They can't heal alone.
In reading the story, one must interrogate how important those societal ideals are in the face of the realities of what makes people happy. Are those ideals worth upholding in spite of this? Can we really allow people to fall through the cracks in the name of social norms? Can we blame people for taking rash actions when the social contract has failed them?
Or are we so blinded by those ideals that we can't see that people can be happy while blatantly disregarding them?
All I know is that in Burial, Andrew, having cast aside normalcy, now appears to be truly happy for the first time in his life.
Who are we to take that from him?
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Your vegas wedding! Ghost did something to me fr. It gave me something I didn't know I needed hahah
Now I need to know more! How did they end up getting married? What will reader do now? And how are the boys going to react?? I need answers 😭
Anyways, your writing is amazing! I found you through your bear shifter! Price fic and I've been hooked ever since ♡
awww thank you so much 😭😭 i'm surprised by how many people enjoyed that au - i never really know which ones are going to hit and which are going to kind of fall by the wayside.
i didn't flesh out the idea very much because i never intended it to be an actual fic, i just really enjoyed the idea of the reader waking up the next day with the deed already done lol. i looooveee writing moments of revelation or first encounters.
but the vague idea in my head was that Ghost was some heavy in between jobs (like a hitman/bounty hunter type of guy; even more of a lone wolf than in canon, but maybe still works as a sort of "collective" with the rest of the 141) who'd just finished up a job in vegas. I imagine he was probably getting a drink in the same bar as you and your friends, though a lot less inebriated lmao (i really struggle to picture Ghost ever getting drunk?? there's a really popular Ghoap fic called Poison Apple where the author describes Ghost as this very controlled, disciplined man who will only have one drink and that's it, because he's the one in control, and wooowww that's soooo how i see him).
i feel like reader probably got pretty drunk, yknow typical for a night out with friends, and caught his eye and actually approached him instead of the other way around and maybe spent the next hour flirting and talking to him (like. TO him lmao, like just chatting chatting chatting while Ghost is content to hang back and just listen, vaguely amused) before finally giggling something like "wouldn't it be funny if we just got, yknow, married? in vegas and all?" and i think it's the first time in awhile that Ghost just does something on a whim lol.
i'm so glad you enjoyed the bear shifter price fic!!!! i'll have more coming soon whenever i get my ass in gear and finish up part 3 of the ikea soap idea lmao!!!
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ASMODEUS x gn!Reader
0.6k Words | NSFW | Making Out in a Semi-Public Place | Insecure Reader
-> Prompt: "Feeling a little needy today?"
[ Obey Me! Masterlist ]
"Alright, what do you think about this one?"
You walked out of the changing stall and spun in a slow circle while Asmo's critical gaze roamed your figure head-to-toe, his eyes narrowing on the slim-fitted shirt he picked for you.
His legs were crossed and his chin was propped up on his knee. He hummed noncommittally. "What matters most is, what do you think, darling?"
You pulled self-consciously at the sides of the shirt that felt tight across your chest and belly. You knew the shirt technically fit, but it made you squirm thinking about wearing it in front of anyone else.
Well, anyone else besides Asmo, who seemed to appreciate the view if his heated gaze was anything to go by.
"I'm not sure it's the right style for me, to be honest," you muttered. "Maybe something else a bit—" Looser? Unshapely? Boring? "—more relaxed might be better."
Asmo stared at you, his undeterred adoration for you tinged with something a bit darker, and your breath hitched when you saw the intensity that flashed across his face. It was there and gone again, and like nothing happened at all, he stood up with a deep sigh. "I'll bring you something else in a moment," he offered and waved you back towards the changing stall.
You just finished unbuttoning the shirt when you heard footsteps approach and pause outside.
"It's me," Asmo said quietly on the other side of the curtain. "Can I come in?"
You opened the curtain enough for him to duck inside. You turned around and put the discarded shirt back on it's hanger. "Did you bring something else, or are we finished for the day?"
Asmo stood behind you and hooked his chin on your shoulder. He held up another shirt in front of you, and you both looked at your refelction in the mirror.
Your mouth dropped open and you glared at his cheeky expression in the mirror. "This shirt looks even tighter than the last one. Is it even my size?"
"You're too hard on yourself," he chided you, and his tone was unusually serious. He frowned at you in the mirror, then he let the hanger fall from his grip and drop at your feet.
"Asmo, what are you—?" your confusion turned to surprise when he spun both of you to the side and backed you against the wall.
His kiss was fierce and all-consuming, his lips moving against yours with urgency. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened your mouth in a surprised moan. He licked into your mouth like he was starved for the taste of you.
"You're so gorgeous, I just wanna touch you," he groaned between sloppy kisses, and the words were muffled because he could hardly bring himself to remove his lips from yours.
Your mouth was slick with spit and the barest traces of his lip gloss, and you huffed in amusement when he pulled back to give you a chance to catch your breath.
"You seem a little needy today," you teased, but your breathlessness betrayed your own desires. You knew he was trying to distract you from your self-doubt and insecurities, and maybe later you'll talk to him about it; right now, you were a little too desperate to care about propriety.
His chest rumbled beneath your palm, and in an instant he slotted one of his thighs between yours. You gasped when you felt a familiar hardness grinding against your hip, and his breathy chuckle tickled your ear.
"You have no idea," he whispered before he sucked your ear lobe between his teeth and flicked the delicate flesh with his tongue.
Your head tilted back against the wall, and his eyes flashed deviously before his hand slid down your bare chest and reached for the zipper of your pants.
#obey me asmodeus#obey me x reader#omswd x reader#obey me asmo x reader#asmodeus x reader#obey me smut#omswd smut#asmodeus smut#obey me asmo x mc#asmodeus x mc#obey me asmo x you#asmodeus x you#obey me fanfic#omswd fanfic#x reader#gn!reader#jes.2k event
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Hey so, thought exercise, how do you think Taylor would fare if she got dropped into the invincible universe? For the sake of mechanics let's say she literally gets dropped in via doorman portal or something.
So one thing about Invincible is that I think it's setting is protagonist-centric in a way that Worm's isn't. To the extent that Invincible's setting has worldbuilding- worldbuilding that isn't, like, ported in from the books's early association with the confederated Image Comics shared universe- it's worldbuilding that exists to convey the impression of a big-two-flavor universe. Here's our spin on the undersea kingdom, here's the riff on the Martians, here are our riffs on SHIELD, on Gotham, on Themyscira, on 70s blaxploitation-adjacent heroes, and so on. This is the entire ethos underpinning the Guardians of the Globe in particular- piggybacking on pre-existing audience affection for the Justice League to convey that it's a Big Fucking Deal when the guardians get blendered in issue 7.
You have flashbacks demonstrating that there was capital-S Superhero Stuff going on in the seventies and eighties, or as far back as the thirties with Immortal, you create the impression of a status quo, a big pond in which Mark is a little fish. And to Kirkman's credit, some effort clearly went into making sure that the non-Mark capes are sufficiently fleshed out that you can believe that they've got other stuff going on in their lives. But at the end of the day, it's the Invincible universe. You don't see a lot of people talking about the Guarding the Globe spinoff. Many of the most interesting characters- Cecil being a big example here- are interesting because of the ways in which they bounce off Mark specifically, the ways in which he chooses to deal with them. The universe is less of a character in the story the way that Earth Bet is- it's just the place where Mark's story, specifically, is happening. If there's a codified setting bible, I'll eat my hat.
Now of course the world of Worm is, in many ways, equally Taylor-centric, because that's what it means to be the protagonist. But owing in part to the themes of the story, and in part to the sheer number of false-start protagonists Wildbow played around with before settling on Taylor, it's very good at conveying the idea that there are many stories happening in this setting and Taylor's is just the one this particular work happened to focus on. There's an actual point to doing OC worldbuilding for what the superhero scene looks like in Wormverse Denver or Seattle or whatever- whereas you can come up with superhero teams for Invincible-verse Denver, but what actually ties them to that universe? What are you getting out of putting them in Invincible specifically, that you wouldn't get from whipping up a barebones MASKS setting to support your OCs?
Anyway. This is a really long way of getting to my real point, which is that I think the question is less "how does Taylor bounce off the Invincible setting" and more "How does Taylor bounce off Invincible the character, around whom the setting orbits even when it pretends not to."
This I'm unsure of, because where do you stick her in his life where you get an interesting dynamic? One thing that's interesting here is that Mark's overall character arc already involves learning a lot of taylorisms- the strategic ruthlessness, the shift from a good-evil dichotomy to a helping-not-helping dichotomy-so what about his arc is going to change if they spend time together? Why would they spend time together? Given the different power levels on display, what would differentiate her, in his experience, from the dozens of filler capes that exist for him at the level of "vague acquaintance?" This is assuming she's active as a cape at all, which she might not be if this is Post-GM. Mutual association through Cecil and the Global Defense Agency might be a hook- maybe they're paying for her new arm or something- but would she latch her cart to Cecil's wagon in the first place, barring some obvious crisis situation? Hard to say. If she's depowered, and present in his life somehow in a civilian context, well, that's a fast-track to not being part of the story anymore either, given how Mark's civilian connections slowly fading away was kind of a quiet plot point.
There's some configuration of these pieces that could be interesting, but I'm not quite sure what they are. Soliciting input here.
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It was sort of late, nearing midnight. Steve was probably still asleep. It wasn't that long ago that Eddie was here being hidden away from prying eyes while he healed and being nursed by Steve Harrington himself. They were friends now, and Dustin had insisted that Eddie should go to Steve if he ever had a nightmare. So, here Eddie was, and he sort of hated it. He got out of the van and stared at the house. Suddenly, he got an idea. Maybe he didn't have to wake Steve up at all.
Eddie walked around the house and grinned. Yeah, it was doable. He quickly scaled the side of the house and made it to Steve’s bedroom. He wedged the window open and carefully crept inside, closing it behind him. Steve was sleeping, his face pressed into the pillow. Okay, Eddie did not think this through. He would have had to wake up Steve anyway. Eddie grinned. He just really wanted to climb into his window. He moved closer to the bed to wake up Steve, and he froze when Steve started mumbling.
"Baby? Are you coming to bed?" Steve said and lifted up his head. "Did you have a nightmare? Come back. I'll make you feel better."
Eddie wasn't entirely sure that Steve was actually aware of what was going on around him. Could Eddie pass up the chance to snuggle with Steve? No, apparently, he couldn't. Eddie crawled into bed. As he did so, Steve grabbed him and pulled him to his chest. Oh, Steve was shirtless. Eddie was about to panic when Steve started rubbing circles into Eddie's back.
"Eddie," Steve whispered, and then he started to snore.
Steve woke up to the sound of thunder. He blinked rapidly and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was 5 in the morning, and there was a weight on his chest. He looked down and saw Eddie Munson drooling on his chest. What the hell? Suddenly, there was another clap of thunder. Eddie whimpered in his sleep, his brows furrowing. Steve froze for a moment before placing a hand in Eddie's hair and the other on the small of his back. Eddie whimpered again, and Steve pulled him closer. There was another weight on his chest, but he was feeling it on the inside. A feeling of affection was weighing heavily for the man in his arms. Another clash of thunder came, and Eddie woke up screaming. Steve held onto him tightly.
"Eddie! Eddie! It's me! It's Steve!"
Eddie was struggling against him, but he wasn't pushing him away. Steve held on tightly until he felt Eddie relax causing Steve to relax his own grip.
"Steve?" Eddie asked.
"Hey, Eddie," Steve asked.
"Shit, man! Sorry," Eddie said quickly and pushed himself away. "I just, Dustin told me that I should go to you when I have a nightmare and I felt bad about waking you up."
"Well, I'm guessing he accidently left out the part that the kids always called first," Steve said.
"Shit, sorry," Eddie said, holding his legs up to his chest.
"I'm not mad. I'm glad that you came to me. Dealing with shit alone sucks," he said. "Nobody should do that. Is the lightning scaring you?"
"I keep thinking about the Upside Down and the bats swirling in the sky," Eddie said. "Which makes me think about them chewing into my flesh. So, yeah, the lightning fucking terrifies me."
"Come here," Steve said.
"What?" Eddie asked.
"The lightning scares me too," he said softly.
Eddie moved closer to him and allowed Steve to pull him into his arms. He didn't unfold himself, though, not at first. He kept his arms to himself and allowed Steve to hold him. A minute later, He unfolded his arms and wrapped them around his waist, clinging to Steve. A particularly loud crack of thunder sounded, causing them both to jump. Steve tightened his grip and let Eddie burry his head into his neck.
"This is ridiculous," Eddie said.
"What?" Steve asked, trying not to enjoy the feeling of Eddie's breath against his neck.
"Do you think that I'm going to be scared forever?" he asked.
"No, I mean, I hope not," Steve said. "And if you are, I'll be here for you as long as you need me."
"And if I need you forever?" he asked.
"Then I'll be here," Steve said. "I don't think that you'll need me forever, though."
"What If I w -," Eddie started to say but cut himself off.
"What?"
"Nothing."
They went silent for a moment as the rain began to pour down in buckets. Steve was flinching along with Eddie.
"Do you want a tour of my house?" Steve asked.
"Uh, you gave me one before I moved out," Eddie said.
"This is a different tour, a better tour," he said and stood up, holding out his hand. "Come on."
Eddie reluctantly got up from the bed and took his hand. He was glad that Steve didn't let go once they left the room. They stood at the balcony overlooking the living room.
"You want to know something that I never told anyone before?" Steve asked Eddie.
"I mean, sure," Eddie said and paused, his eyes wide. "You're not about to tell me that you murdered a guy or anything? Well, if it was you that did it, I'm sure you had your reasons. Robin helped you, didn't she?"
"No, I didn't murder a guy," Steve said, laughing. "Although Robin has said on more than one occasion that if I needed her help burying a body then she would drop everything to do it. Of course, I would probably do the same if she needed me too."
"That's true friendship, man," Eddie said. "Okay, but seriously, what was it that you wanted to tell me?"
"I miss my parents," Steve said softly.
"Fuck, wait, no one knows that they're dead and you're only telling me?" Eddie asked.
"Eddie! They're not dead," Steve laughed and paused before speaking again. "They're away on business all of the time. Well, my mom follows my dad around to make sure he doesn't cheat. At least, that's what my mom tells me when I ask. They have been gone all of the time for a long time. They missed all of the times that I was in the hospital, and they even missed my graduation. I hated this house for a while now because it reminded me of all of the times that I was left alone."
"I'm sorry, your parents are pieces of shit," Eddie said.
"Yeah, they are even more so when you know why they couldn't be around me anymore, when they couldn't stand to look at me. They weren't always shitty parents. Once upon a time, they did love me unconditionally, but apparently, their love did come with conditions," Steve said. "I've always known that I was different. I was comfortable with it but my parents couldn't handle it when I told them. Their first instinct was to make sure that I hid it from everyone else, that I didn't tell anyone. They couldn't send me away, but they didn't want to stick around to be around someone like me, so they left, and on occasion, they came home to keep up appearances."
"Steve. . .," Eddie said softly and squeezed his hand tightly.
"I'm bisexual, Eddie," Steve said and paused, waiting for him to respond. "I'm not sure if you know what that is because even though I knew for a long time, I didn't know there was a word for it."
"I know what it is, Stevie," Eddie said in amusement, his eyes twinkling as he leaned close to him. "I'm one too."
"Seriously?" Steve asked with a grin.
"It's a recent discovery," Eddie said blushing and then scowled. "Okay, I'm going to jail and this time it's going to be for a crime I actually committed. Stevie, I'm going to kill your parents."
"Please, don't go to jail for me," Steve replied.
"But you'd be worth it," Eddie grinned.
"I don't know how to respond to that except to say again: please, don't go to jail for me," he said. "The point is, Eddie, that I used to hate living here then Robin and the kids came along. The living room is where we spend most of our time arguing, talking, debating, watching TV, and piling in there to have a slumber party. The living room is where Robin and I have nights where we do facials while we bitch about the customers that come into Family Video. The living room is where I realized that family is more than blood. Come on."
He laced his fingers with Eddie's and dragged him down the stairs towards the front door.
"Uh, are you kicking me out?" Eddie asked.
"No, I'm showing you the spot where Dustin told me he never had an older brother before and then hugged me tightly," Steve said.
"Gotta love that little butthead," Eddie sniffled as he held back tears.
Steve smiled and led him into the kitchen.
"This is where the kids told me they loved me for the first time after I came out to them," Steve said. "Where they told me that even though they joked about me being a mom, they knew that I was their older brother. It's also the place where they tried to surprise me with a breakfast for my birthday. It didn't go so well. Nearly caught the kitchen on fire. After that I made sure with the help of their moms that I taught them how to cook. Although I think their moms just wanted to witness the disaster because they all brought cameras. It's also where the moms told me they all appreciated me, where they told me they loved me, and how proud they were that I was there for their kids. . . that I was also their kid too. It was a little awkward with Mrs. Wheeler saying that. . . considering but I appreciated it. Eddie, are you crying?"
"Well, damn, Harrington, what'd you expect telling me all of this?" Eddie asked and Steve laughed.
Steve dragged him outside and into the driveway. It was still raining, something that Eddie complained about loudly. The rain was pouring down on both of them as they stood in the driveway.
"This where I played basketball with Lucas. We talked about it for a long time. This is where he told me about how much he struggled about playing with the same guys who once bullied them. This is where I told him that if it's something that he really wants to do then he shouldn't let anyone stop him from playing even if that included standing up to his friends," Steve said pointedly. "This is also where I told him that if he did play basketball then he should do it for the right reasons, because he wanted to and not to use it an excuse to escape. If he likes basketball and D&D, then he should be able to fight for both."
"You know, I apologized to him. To Lucas. I was such an asshole. I should have postponed but all I could see was him becoming a jock who gave us hell. I couldn't see that he just wanted support from his friends," Eddie said and then snorted. "Nothing wrong with liking both. It took me a long time to realize that."
"I get it. I was once an asshole too, and Lucas understood," Steve said. "This house that I used to hate; I love it now because when I look at it, I don't see my parents anymore. When I look at it, I see the time that I came out to Robin on the floor of my bathroom, and she cried before swearing that we're platonic soulmates for all eternity. Of course, she tried to make it a blood oath, but I stopped her. This is the house where Robin and I swore that we'll always be a part of each other's lives. This is where Robin and the kids became my real family. Sometimes, bad memories can be turned into good memories. Sometimes. Someday, I'll sell this place and I won't be thinking about my parents. I'll be thinking about the kids. About Robin."
Eddie grinned and grabbed his hand, dragging him back inside. He dragged him back upstairs to the balcony overlooking the living room.
"This is where I told Steve Harrington that I was bisexual and this is where I tell him who exactly made me realize that about myself," Eddie said. "It was you, big boy."
"This is where I tell Eddie Munson that I'm very glad that I'm the person that woke him up, and I hope that this is spot where I kiss him for the first time," Steve said, looking at him hopefully.
"This is the spot where Steve Harrington kisses Eddie Munson for the first time," Eddie replied.
Steve pulled him into his arms and kissed him. A loud clap of thunder sounded from outside. It was so loud that it rattled the house, and Eddie couldn't fight the smile that formed as he kissed Steve. Yeah, this turned into a very good memory.
#stranger things#eddie munson#stranger things s4#joseph quinn#eddie stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson lives#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfiction#bisexual steve harrington#bisexual eddie munson#bi4bi#warning i might have cried while writing this#the party#robin buckley#robin & steve#platonic stobin#steve harrington's found family
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