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ragingbookdragon · 4 months

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She exits the stage with a smile, disappearing from the view of hungry eyes to slip into the private booth above the dance floor. Her smile drops as she enters and grabs the silk robe sitting on her couch, slipping it over her body as the man in the corner sets his tablet down and watches her quietly.

“Good set tonight,” he notes, gazing as she sits down behind the one-way glass on the cushion.

“I’m always good,” she replies and holds out her hand, waiting; he’s behind her in a moment, handing her a glass of burgundy wine. “There’s a man down there at the center stage. Plaid suit. Receding hairline. I want him gone from my club.”

“Gone or gone?”

She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Depends on how many times he continues to touch Jeanette as she performs her set.” She takes a sip and hands it back to him. “Find out who he is, Simon.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, taking her glass before he bends down, getting in her ear; the coolness of the ceramic skull brushes her skin and she manages to suppress a shiver as he asks, “Is there anything else you need, Mistress?”

“Dinner.”

“What would you like?”

“Carbonara. From Osteria Francescana. And some wine. Something that pairs.”

“That’s fourteen hours away, Mistress,” he deadpans.

“And I have no doubt you’ll make it happen in less than,” she says, tipping her head up to look at him. “You’ve never failed me, Simon. I don’t suspect you’ll start now.”

His eyes crinkle behind his mask. “Never, ma’am.”

She watches below and notices two men who are talking amongst one another and filling out the questionnaire the club offers. “Simon?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“The two down there,” she says and nods to them. “Have Angelina bring me their questionnaires when they’re finished.”

Ghost looks at them. “New stallions to break, Mistress?”

She offers a secretive smile. “They’ve never been to a club like this. Just look at them.” Her smile grows as she sees the one with the mohawk grin at the women in the booth with their lovers, the other in the cap practically gawks as a crimson paints his face. “It’s always nice to welcome new members.”

“You haven’t welcomed anyone since me. You stopped after me.”

His tone is practically filled with a neon green envy, and she looks up with a smile, crooking her finger at him; he rounds the couch and she watches as he kneels before her. “Simon, how many do I keep in my personal circle?” he opens his mouth and she adds, “My private circle.”

He pauses before begrudgingly admitting, “…myself. Price. Keegan.”

She takes his chin in her hand, gently tilting his head up. “You are my most precious treasure, Simon. Always mine. Never shared.”

“I don’t like sharing you,” he retorts, and she pulls away, propping her elbow on the side of the couch, her fist to her cheek.

She merely smiles with amusement. “Someone needs to be reminded of just how much he means, doesn’t he? Of just how perfect he is in every way,” her eyes lower to his groin.

“Yes,” Simon begs, and shifts on the ground, his hips tilting down, and she stifles a laugh.

“Later, darling,” she murmurs. “You have a job to do before. And I’m still hungry.”

It takes him an awful moment to find the desire to get off his knees, feels better at her feet before her. “Yes, Mistress.”

She grabs his hand in hers before he leaves and tugs it, having him bend down. “What are you, Simon?”

His eyes drop to her lips, then back to her gaze. “Yours.”

“Mine.”

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bloodybellycomb · 6 months

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if it was profitable to fantasize about two middle aged white men with receding hairlines making out, than everyone on this entire god forsaken website would be insanely rich by now.

#loki #supernatural #destiel #nov 5th #good omens #hannibal #this is the future liberals want #birdy chirps

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bigification · 2 months

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Gainers Roulette

It's a risky game played by men desperate enough to risk their bodies for a chance at a bigger life. Men come from far and wide to play a game of Gainer roulette, some come out strong and sexy, some aren't so lucky. Although the game isn't all luck, it has a way of punishing those it deems unworthy.

Six needles are loaded, four with a serum that increases muscle and testosterone in the body, and two with a serum that drastically increases age and fat in the body.

The first player is a young man who pulls up on a motorcycle. He learned how to ride a motorcycle so that he could join his dad's group, but now he just gets picked on for being young and skinny. Well regardless, him being skinny won't be a problem after this.

He takes the serum. Immediately his face starts to change. His young and smooth features become more ragged, his clean shaven face quickly grows thick black hairs giving him a bushy beard, and the hairs on his head fall out leaving him with a smooth bald head. At this point it's hard to tell if he's won or not. Aging and losing hair is a common sign of losing, but he did want to look older and tougher so it could be either.

Next his body started to rapidly grow. He grew taller and taller as his shoulders broadened and his chest grew two juicy pecs that burst out of his shirt. His flat stomach grew into a thick six pack with a small layer of fat covering them. His arms exploded with muscle, becoming large and defined. Hair started to grow all over his body, covering his chest, stomach, and arms, giving him a much tougher look.

Moving downward, his previously flat ass perked up and pressed firmly against his shorts. His legs thickened as a thick pelt of hair grew over them, and his feet grew a few sizes, busting out of his shoes. And finally, a large bulge formed in his tight shorts, just for good measure.

Looks like we have a winner. The man leaned against his motorcycle and looked down at his nearly naked body. He smiled before riding off.

Our next player arrives in a luxury car. These never go well, rich guys only have one thing money can't buy them, good looks. So they come here expecting to walk out strong and good looking, let's see how this goes.

An average looking guy in an expensive polo and a gold chain walk out of the car. Not exactly what I expected, but close enough. He appears to be on the phone, and he doesn't seem to be enjoying the phone call. He puts the caller on hold as he approaches and takes the shot without even saying a word to me.

The man's well kept hair quickly falls off his head as his facial features start to age. It's not looking good for him so far. His cheeks puff out as a couple of chins grow under his soft jawline.

His scrawny body bursts out of his expensive polo as his gut grows bigger and bigger. He is left with a big hairy beer gut hanging out of his ripped shirt. His chest soon follows, growing into a thick pair of man tits with cheap looking tattoos on them.

His arms and legs thicken with mostly fat as his hands become thick and pudgy. The man is left old, bald, and fat. This is what usually happens to the rich guys who come here. He resumes his phone call as if nothing happened before getting in his car and driving away.

The next player slowly walks up holding a cane. He is an elderly sheriff who had to quit his job due to his physical condition, but wants to work again.

The man takes the shot, and almost right away his back straightens as he grows taller. Most of the wrinkles on the man's skin disappear as his he grows a clean silver beard. His receded hairline grows back and his skin tans from a pale white to a healthy golden brown.

The man's chest perks up and his shoulders broaden, filling out his sheriff uniform. The fat in his stomach disappears, leaving his uniform hanging off of his pecs. His biceps tripled in size, filling with muscle until they were about to rip his sleeves. His ass perks up and his thighs thicken, filling out his pants.

The man stands tall, smiles and nods at me approvingly before leaving without a word.

Next player is a young man who pulls up on a bike. He says he's close to getting drafted into the football league of his dreams, but he just hasn't been able to put on the weight needed for his position. Well either way I'm sure he'll be beyond heavy enough.

He takes the shot and his body starts to fill out. His skinny arms grow large and strong and his flat chest plumps up into two defined pecs, bursting through his tiny shirt. His pudgy stomach tightens up into a barely visible six pack with a sizable layer of fat covering it.

His legs and his ass explode with muscle and fat, giving the young man the look of a superstar football player. The pressure in his shorts grows until they rip open in dramatic fashion, making his ass bounce as it's released. Finally his face fills out, matching the rest of his massive body.

It looks like we have another winner. He seems to come to after the transformation is complete, an embarrassed look takes over his face as he attempts to cover his dick with his hands. His hands are quite massive, but it would be futile to try to cover up the monster he's got packing down there.

I throw him a towel to cover up and he thanks me before biking off.

The next player is a middle aged man who shows up in a barely functioning mini van. He said he used to be an athlete but had to stop after a serious injury. Ever since he had his kids, he has gained a lot of weight and struggles to do any activities with his kids.

The man takes the shot, and similar to the sheriff from before, his back straightens as his height increases drastically. Within moments the small feeble man with a can has become a tall and imposing man. His height has made his shorts look like short shorts and his shirt look like a bra, exposing his hairy gut. This would not last long however, as the fat in his body rapidly started to drain. As it did, his body began to twitch as an immense amount of muscle started to grow in his body. His hulking gut became a rock hard six pack and his moobs became a juicy pair of pecs. The man's soft arms became solid and defined as his hands became thick and calloused. His legs became strong and sturdy, and his ass became round a perky instead of sagging like it did before.

The man's face slimmed down, making his double chin fade as a thick black beard grew over his face. His receding hairline also grew back a little bit, giving him a more youthful look. Finally, a thick pelt of hair grew all over the man's body. Though the transformation seemed very taxing on the man, and he ended up passing out.

He must have been 6"4 and at least 250 pounds, so dragging his body to a bed was no easy task. It didn't take long for him to wake up. He thanked me profusely before getting up and leaving in the minivan.

Our last player for today is a young man who shows up in a cop car. He approaches wearing a police uniform, he feels he is not being respected by the more senior police. He wants to be more intimidating and demand more respect, but something tells me that his co-workers aren't the only reason he wants to be more intimidating. Unfortunately for him, he has no idea that there is only one shot left and it is not a winner.

The man impatiently takes the shot. Almost immediately, the man's flat stomach distended outward into a beer belly. It grows and grows until rips through his police uniform, leaving him in a tight black undershirt. He is left with a thick ball gut that hangs out of his shirt. His once defined pecs grow into two soft man tits that lay on his gut. The fat in his chest has even forced his arms to lay further out from his body. Speaking of his arms, they plump up under a thick layer of fat, nearly ripping his sleeves in the process. Even his hands look fat, with fingers that look like stuffed sausages.

Lucky for the young man, his uniform pants seemed to be slightly too big for him, so they have enough room to store his new body. His ass explodes with fat, stretching his large pants to their limit. His thighs follow suit, filling his pants until they're about to burst.

Just when the transformation is about to end, it gets worse for the young man. His face becomes pudgier as a thick double chin forms on his neck. But as the fat filled his face, the stubble on his chin went from brown to white. The hair on his head followed suit, becoming a pale white colour as his hairline slightly receded. Wrinkles started to form on his face as he began to rapidly age. From his mid twenties, to forties, all the way to his sixties in mere moments. His body started to sag under its own weight as blemishes formed on his skin.

Police equipment was scattered across the floor as the man was left in a tiny black undershirt and pants that barely fit. He flexed, making his shirt ride up even more, and smiled as he looked at his body. It seems as though he is unaware of how different his body was mere moments ago. He chuckled and states that the station will have no choice but to respect a man of his stature, and besides, he's definitely old enough to get some seniority. He picks up his ripped uniform off the ground and comments that it must have shrunk in the wash and that he needs to get a new one. He thanks me before squeezing into his police car and driving off

#male tf #male transformation #muscle tf #fat tf #reality change #masculine #male wg #hairy

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yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt · 5 months

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Nimona comic ended with two (2) middle-aged disabled men in love one of which has a receding hairline and isn't demonized for it seriously what is the deal for demonizing hair loss can everyone please be normal it happens to most people at some point jfc and they're both hot and sexy and awesome and I personally think that is super rad

#nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #ballister blackheart #nimona graphic novel #ballister x ambrosius

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lookismfanfics · 4 months

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Hello my love may i req a gun x reader fluff where we go out on a ice cream break with him

Of course luv!

𝐈𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Gun x Reader

Genres: Fluff, slice of life

🝮 Gun genuinely believes his hair will one day fall out. He’s seen it happen to the most attractive of men. They go bald.

🝮 It’s mainly due to the physical and mental strain he goes through.

🝮 If it weren’t for you… he’d probably have a receding hairline already.

🝮 You clasp his hand tightly and lean against his sturdy frame. Even the warm weather can’t keep you two apart. He blames you for being clingy, when in reality his grip on you tightens the moment you start to drift away.

🝮 It’s not too hot. Not too cold. He still gets away with wearing one of his suave coats.

🝮 You manage to wear your usual attire, too. Gun likes your sense of style, although he’s begrudging to admit it and boost your ego. (Even if you don’t have one.)

🝮 “You seem so tense,” you chide, releasing his hand to feel at the solid muscles in his back. His form is rigid and upright. Just as you suspected.

🝮 “That’s why I agreed to do this,” Gun deadpans. His sunglasses catch the light as he looks over at you. You’re unable to return the eye contact 👀

🝮 “Aw, okay. So not because I’ve been telling you about this ice cream store for weeks?”

🝮 “No.”

🝮 Seeing you happy melts his stress away.

🝮 You stroll into the shop and wait in line. Even if the wait time is short, Gun steals impatient glances at those ahead. He massages your shoulders absently.

🝮 You? Pay? Not a chance. His credit card is already fitted into the slot before you can even open your wallet.

🝮 “He’ll have the same as me,” You say. You already know his order. You share the same taste.

🝮 Gun doesn’t smile very often. He does when he hears that. It’s more a smirk than anything. Just a fleeting cocky expression that leaves as quickly as it comes.

🝮 Whether you sit outside in the warm sun, or coop yourself inside and huddle in a booth, it doesn’t matter.

🝮 Gun will offer to feed you icecream with a straight face. Take off his glasses, hold eye contact with his white pupils, and stare at you as you lick the flavor off the spoon.

🝮 He’ll try not to smile. You’ll catch him doing it anyways.

🝮 He barely touches his until you’re almost done, to make sure you don’t want some of his if you’re still hungry. Eventually he’ll start spoon feeding himself. His head ducks towards the table and he eats it in an almost elegant fashion.

🝮 You stroke his hair until you manage to loosen the gel. It slacks onto his forehead and flops around with almost every move.

🝮 You move to wipe your mouth with a napkin. He’ll wipe it off for you. You can’t reach the flavor that sits on the side of your cheek. He’ll lick it off for you.

🝮 As you leave he fits his fingers into yours and pulls you against his side.

🝮 “Thanks for paying Gun.”

🝮 “No need to thank me.”

🝮 You catch another smirk spreading across his face. You click his sunglasses and laugh. When you feel for the tension in his back, you realize it’s disappeared.

🝮 (On the walk home Gun asks you about balding and if you think it’s attractive?)

🝮 (You ask him if he thinks having a big dumptruck is a problem. He tells you you’re f-ed in the head.)

🝮 Idk what’s wrong with him 💁‍♀️

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what-even-is-thiss · 9 months

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hi! if this is too personal i completely understand if you just delete it or something, but you're like the transmasc person i see the most on here so i thought i'd ask you.

i've been thinking about going on T at some point in the near future (don't have access right now but will relatively soon). i'm scared to take the leap, and i'm kinda scared of like... the process? idk i was wondering if you could share like... some of the gradual things that you start to see? i think i'm afraid of just waking up one day and seeing like "oh my god i'm a man suddenly" but realistically i know the changes are slow and gradual.

so i guess my question is how does it feel/what is it like to see those gradual changes and what can be expected? tysm and again no worries if this isn't something you want to talk about :)

So you need a second puberty talk, huh?

Well everybody experiences different things at different rates but here’s what’s up.

In the first week to month:

Your throat may start hurting and/or your voice might start cracking. This means your voice is changing. Your voice could drop slowly and gradually or you could wake up one day with a lower voice. The tone of your voice before T generally won’t tell you how deep your voice will be. Your voice could barely change or it could get really deep. It’s the same for cis men. This is all normal.

Your clitoris will start growing. This is generally one of the first changes you’ll notice in the first two weeks. It may hurt a bit while it’s growing or it may not. It may grow more sensitive or it may not.

You may start smelling different. The things that may smell different range from your sweat to your pee to your vagina. You generally don’t smell worse. Just different.

You might notice a difference in your sex drive and sex and masturbation in general. You may want sex more. You may want sex less. You may want sex with different types of people or the same types of people. Your orgasms may feel different. It may be easier or harder to orgasm. You may wish to inspect your growing junk. This is all normal.

About 2-4 months in:

Your voice will likely have lowered noticeably by the end of 3-4 months, but it won’t be done changing yet. Your singing voice may be very off key or difficult to control. This will even out with practice and as your new voice settles but it could take a while.

Your period will likely be uneven and unpredictable at this point. If you’re lucky it may stop altogether. It’s probably smart to keep carrying panty liners and pads for a while in case of random spotting.

You might get acne and other annoying changes to your skin. That’s puberty.

Your fat will likely start moving around at this point to different areas but it will take a while for it to finish.

You might notice more hair in general around your body at this point. You might not.

You may be sweating more. This is a puberty thing.

It may be slightly easier for you to gain muscle now if you’re the sort of person who works out

One year in:

Your clitoris will likely have stopped growing and top out at 1-2 inches long

Your period will likely have stopped completely at this point

Your body hair and beard won’t be fully filled in to where it will be years from now but you’ll likely be shaving or managing a stringy puberty beard by now.

Your hairline will likely have receded a bit by this point. This doesn’t automatically mean you’re losing your hair. Men’s hairlines tend to be further back than women’s. It’s smart to keep track of that though if it matters to you.

Your body will still be changing but passing will likely be much easier by this point.

Your voice will likely have settled a bit but you may still need to work on your singing voice more if that’s something that’s important to you.

By this point you’ll likely have an accurate idea of how T has affected your sexuality and sex drive, if at all.

Reminder that things happen at different rates for everyone. It’s puberty so it’ll take a long time. You may still notice changes 3-4 years in.

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ifimdreaming · 1 year

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Can we go now?

Luke Hughes x Reader || angst, some fluff

summary: Luke brings you to a dinner party filled with misogynistic men and bad booze, and feels really bad about.

author’s note: this is very rushed but i hope you enjoy it anyway! love you

word count: 1.0k

“how much longer lukey?..” you grab onto his arm and lean into him, quietly asking into his ear. “I know… i'm sorry, it’s only been a couple hours babe..but we can leave if you really need” He replies kindly, knowing how much you both hate dinner parties like this.

It wasn’t often that your boyfriend invited you to these events so you just nod in response, knowing he needs to be here for work and, also, not wanting to be the one to make him leave early.

Normally it isn’t too terrible, and there are moments for you two to sneak away from crowds and quietly sit together at a table and just enjoy the night. But tonight was different, it was non stop talking and mingling, Luke trying to be as professional as possible around borderline rude men making bad jokes and slightly misogynistic comments, not caring that you are standing right there.

And for the most part you were doing your best fake smiles and laughs, but the comments just kept getting worse and worse as the conversations progressed.

After having dinner and moving outside for watered down cocktails, you go to refill your drink, needing an escape, and leaving Luke with a group of mostly strangers for a moment. Looking over at him from the bar, you can just tell from his face that he is getting tired and probably more and more irritable as the time passes.

A moment later you feel a small brush against your back as you’re sitting at the bar and a hand rests against your thigh. “Ok i’ll have a drink and then we’re out of here” Luke sighs out as he takes a seat beside you. He rests his head in his hand, closing his eyes for a moment and you reach up to comb your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“Ok…just please promise me you won’t get sucked into another endless conversation about the playoffs again?”

“trust me, i wanted out of that conversation just as much as you did” he retorts back defeatedly. You both knew your moods were worsening when you started to get nippy and sarcastic with each other.

You sit in silence for a moment while Luke is finishing his drink and you start to swirl the ice in your empty glass, needing to finish your drink even if it was the worst cocktail you’ve ever had in your life.

“Im really sorry i dragged you here, i just hate coming to these things…thought it would be at least a little more bearable with you around…” he looks down, “i didn't know it would be this…shitty” he begins to rub his thumb over your thigh slowly and you can tell by his tone that he truly feels bad about tonight and how everyone was treating you, knowing there are so many other things you two would rather be doing on a friday night.

“luke im just thankful we get to spend time together tonight” you start, “i'm glad you asked me to come with you” you say reassuringly.

You look up at him with a small smile and place a gentle kiss on his lips, he leans in and brings a hand up to your face, cupping your jaw. You pull away and press a few soft kisses on his cheek, making him crack his first smile all night.

Just as Luke finishes his drink, you see two men walking towards the both of you sitting at the bar and you nudge Luke’s arm to warn him, not wanting to get trapped in conversation again.

Luke quickly swivels on his seat and goes to stand up, grabbing your arm to help you down from your stool. He places some cash on the bar beside your empty glasses and you start towards the door, opposite the people walking your way.

“Luke Hughes! If it isn’t the newest new jersey devil!” a man in a dark grey suit and receding hairline creeps up behind Luke, “How bout’ we have a drink outside!” he says almost demandingly.

“Sorry we’re actually heading out-” you try to interrupt, getting tired of staying quiet all night. “Oh it will just be a minute” the man insists as he steps forward placing a hand on Luke’s back to nudge him towards the patio outside where more people were. This causes your hand to disconnect from Luke’s as the man begins speaking to Luke, completely ignoring you.

“Actually she said we’re leaving” Luke defends, grabbing your hand and moving past the man.

“Nice meeting you” he says sarcastically as we start to walk away and you swear you hear the man cursing under his breath at you as Luke pulls you by the hand, angrily marching towards the exit.

“yeah this fucking sucked. no one’s treating you like that ever again.” he says as you make your way to the parking garage. “hey ..lukey…” you say and he turns around to face you as you’re both standing by the passenger side of his car “i'm so sorry about them” he says and crashes his lips on yours, his hands on both sides of your hips as he walks backwards, your back leaning on the side of his car as he makes out with you.

You reach your hand up and run it along his chest and he leans down to place kisses across your neck. He places his hands on either side of your face and looks at you, “promise ill m-make it up to you..” he says remorsefully, hoping this night hasn’t upset you too much.

“-Baby! Its ok! Its not your fault” you reassure through giggles and his eyebrows relax after seeing that your mood has lifted.

“Honestly i’m just glad we’re finally leaving” his hands are still on your face and you grab his wrists, bringing them down, “Can we go now?” you say smiling at your sweet boyfriend as he looks back at you with loving eyes.

“Of course”

#luke hughes #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes reclist #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes angst #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey boys #hockey blurb #hockey x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils imagine #nj devils #ifimdreamingwrites

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dfortrafalgar · 25 days

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Chapter 24

[Prev] [Next]

The first blood test was positive. And then the second one a week after that. So were the three at-home pregnancy tests you took. You’d be remiss to deny the fact that your breasts had been so unbelievably sore, so painful in fact that the days you spent home from work had you completely rejecting the very idea of wearing a bra. Still trying not to get your hopes up, you kept your symptoms to yourself and to Law (who was very disappointed at the fact that hugging you in the front had become painful).

And now, two full weeks after your first blood test, you were sitting with Penguin at a table outside a cafe. A large umbrella was open above you, shielding you from the sun as you anxiously tapped your fingers on the metal table, waiting for the call from your doctor.

Your anxiety was practically oozing out of you like sludge, and it was definitely affecting Penguin. He took off his hat and rubbed the back of his palm over his forehead, crinkling his nose. “Please don’t pass out on me, I don’t know how to do CPR.”

You rested your head in your palm, placing your phone screen-down on the table. “I promise I won’t. I’m sorry for being such a bummer, I know you were looking forward to lunch today.”

Your friend waved his hand in the air reassuringly after putting his hat back on his head. His black hair had begun receding recently, and he’d been covering his hairline more than he usually had. “Nah, don’t sweat it. I just want to make sure you’re alright, that’s all.” When he finished his sentence, he pushed your glass of melting ice water closer to you. You chuckled, grabbing the glass and taking a long sip out of the straw.

“So what’s your schedule like, anyway?” he asked, poking through the small cafe menu. “Like, if this next test comes back positive, then what?”

You resisted the urge to check your phone once more. “If this one comes back positive, I’ll have another blood test in a week. And then if that one shows normal signs of progression, I’ll continue to have them done weekly. I’m not sure how long that will last, but I’m getting kinda tired of seeing my blood in tiny plastic tubes.”

Penguin snorted. “They probably have enough of your blood to keep someone alive at this point.”

“They should give it back to me,” you joked, taking another generous sip of your water.

The man across from you closed his small paper menu, having decided what he was going to order when the waitress came back. “So how’s Law been doing? I feel like I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

You grinned at the question. “He’s been alright, he’s been pretty stressed too over this, but I think he’s been able to distract himself with his shifts at the hospital. He’s been working more since he got home from his trip, I think he’s trying to make up for being gone for a week.”

Penguin laughed. “Sounds like him, alright.” He rested his own head in his hand. “If you really are pregnant, and everything is going normally, do you think he’ll take more time off?”

A sigh left your lips. “It’s wishful thinking, but I honestly doubt it. And it’s not his fault, he just works a really time-consuming and taxing job. It’s hard for both of us, but when he is home he makes all the time in the world for me. And because he has such long working days, sometimes he gets multiple days off in a row, which is nice.”

“That’ll be nice for the baby, too,” Penguin added.

Your heart swelled at the thought. Ever since having your eggs implanted, your mind had been melting with thoughts of Law’s paternal side coming out. You couldn’t wait to see the way he’d hold his child, kissing their forehead, cleaning them in a tiny baby bathtub, singing to them as they fell asleep even though he hated being heard singing by anyone. The mere thoughts made your thighs clench. Some hormonal instinct in you to see your man become a father, you guessed.

“It would be nice,” you added, your voice airy. It was like you were floating on a blissful cloud.

Penguin laughed at the sight. “God, you’re smitten. It’s fucking adorable.”

You hid your face in your hands to mask your embarrassment, making your friend bark out a laugh at your sorry state. The waitress returned in due time, taking your small orders before leaving again with your menus. You were starting to have deja vu from your brunch with Ikkaku before your second miscarriage.

The thought of your own best friend gave you a thought.

“Hey, so I have a question for you,” you blurted, attracting his attention.

He took a sip of his own water and gazed at you through his narrow brown eyes.

“Have you told Shachi that you like him yet, or are you two ‘still just roommates’?” you asked, holding up your fingers in air quotes to punctuate your words.

The statement made Penguin groan as he pulled his hat further down onto his head, hiding his eyes with a thick shadow. “No. I don’t know what he’ll say.”

You smiled sympathetically at the man. You, Law, and Ikkaku had been rooting for Penguin ever since he broke up with your best friend after your college graduation with your bachelor’s degrees, realizing he was gay the entire time. The terms were mutual, as Ikkaku began dating a woman soon after, but Penguin moved in with Shachi and was convinced he’d never find love after finding himself so late in life. But then he fell for Shachi… and fell hard.

“I guess I’m just worried that things will be too awkward if I tell him now that we’ve been living together as roommates for, like, five years,” he explained. “I’m already paying half of the rent.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” you began. “Shachi’s been talking about you a lot more. Like, a lot.”

Penguin picked his head up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

You nodded. “I wouldn’t lie to you about love, Pen, you know me.”

The man across from you leaned back in his chair. “What if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Then you talk it out like adults and continue being roommates,” you stated. “Simple. Easy-peasy.”

“You make it sound easier than it looks,” he grumbled, but a small smile lay on his lips. “You and Law had it easy.”

“Bullshit. Law hated me when we first met.”

The memory made the two of you chuckle. Law’s unwillingness to open up, how it took him almost an entire year to admit that he could possibly be in love, and be in love with you, the snarky graphic design student who infiltrated his gen ed study group.

And now here you were, a wedding ring on your left hand and hoping so desperately for a child with him.

Penguin was grinning widely at you, making you falter. “What’s got you smiling so wide?”

Your friend dropped his hand. “Just thinking about how proud I am of you two.”

Before you had the chance to reply, or even register your heart doing somersaults in your chest, your phone began vibrating on the table. You snatched it up with the speed of a falcon diving for a mouse, your eyes growing wide at the number on the screen. The lab. Penguin knew without you even having to speak.

“Hello?” you asked wearily into the receiver.

[Hello, is this Mrs. Trafalgar? This is Nurse Nojiko from the outpatient laboratory.]

You nodded to no one in particular. “Yes, this is her.”

[Perfect, I wanted to inform you that the results of your test have come back positive! I have updated your patient portal with the information, and you should be receiving a call from your doctor within the next day or so.]

Your heart swelled. “Th-Thank you so much!”

[Of course, hun, have a great rest of your day, alright?]

You promptly shared your goodbyes before you tapped the end call button, placing your device back down on the table. Your wide eyes darted up to meet Penguin’s. He was already smiling.

“Positive?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“Positive,” you confirmed.

He had absolutely no care in the world if he caused a scene. He bolted upright from his chair and dragged you out of your’s, pulling you into a bone crushing hug that made you stifle a yelp due to the pressure on your chest.

You frantically whispered into his ear. “Penguin, my boobs hurt like shit.”

“Crap,” he pulled away from you, holding your shoulders. “I’m sorry!”

You were giggling as you had to resist the urge to fondle your breasts in public, trying to get the pain to die down based on willpower alone. “It’s okay, they’ve been really sore lately.”

“Is that a symptom of pregnancy?” he asked, sitting back in his chair.

You pursed your lips for a moment. “I think so, but I’m still trying not to get my hopes up. The last two times, they never got as sore as they are now.”

Penguin flashed a toothy grin. “I’m considering that a win.”

You smiled to yourself, still fighting the anxious pang in your heart. You grabbed your phone once more to send Law a text message. He was scheduled for a very large and very taxing surgery for the day, so you were sure he wouldn’t respond until much later, but you eagerly sent the text anyway.

Hi baby, im out for lunch with Peng. The fifth test came back positive, i just got the call!!! Im still going to lay low for a bit because my tits hurt for shit. I love you, i’ll call you if anything urgent comes up but dont feel pressured to respond if youre busy! I love you again!!! Love you!!!!

—

Law’s circulating nurse had his passcode memorized at this point. When his phone buzzed in her pocket, he simply gave her permission to check it with a curt nod, barely tearing his eyes away from the open chest cavity in front of him.

The anesthesiologist beside the patient saw the way the nurse’s eyes lit up while reading whatever message had come through. “What does it say?”

“Doctor,” she began, her smile reaching her ears. “Your wife’s fifth test came back positive.”

The entire operating room buzzed with muted excitement at the news, keeping their attention focused on the patient, but clearly radiating with optimism. Law had been keeping his team up-to-date with his progress on what his nurses called ‘The Kid Conundrum,’ and seeing his entire crew quietly celebrate over the news of your latest positive test made a smile crawl to his lips below his surgical mask.

“Attention on the patient,” he stated.

The entire team could hear the broad smile in his voice.

—

Seven positive pregnancy tests, and almost eight weeks since your implantation day. You and Law were in a different ultrasound room in a different clinic, due to Robin being out of office for the week with her husband (a thought that made Law cower). You were laying on the cold, unfamiliar table as Law sat across the room from you, the usual set up. He had the entire week off of work, which he had been spending glued to your side. Your symptoms had been fairly taxing lately, your breasts being more tender than they had ever been. You had even started swelling somewhat in your lower belly, but partnered with general morning discomfort, you chalked it up to regular pregnancy bloating.

Not that you were complaining about any of the symptoms. If anything, they were relieving. Signs that you were actually pregnant… with a living fetus.

You stared at the ceiling as the gel was smeared on your belly and as the sound of the ultrasound machine whirred to life. The technician doing your scan was sitting on a swiveling stool as she worked, another nurse behind her to help assess your condition.

“So how many weeks along does your doctor think you are?” she asked, keeping her eyes glued to the screen as she pressed the transducer to your skin, locating your uterus.

“About eight weeks or so, I think,” you replied.

She nodded, going silent as she rubbed the wand over your belly. She adjusted it slightly, then moved it again. The nurse behind her appeared to lean in toward the screen, her eyes growing wide.

Their silence made your heart rate begin to pick up.

“You said you had IVF, right?” she asked.

Growing even more anxious, you nodded against the pillow behind your head. “Yes… that’s correct.”

Law leaned over in his chair to try to get a glimpse of the monitor screen.

The wand was moved over your skin a few extra times before the nurse reached up and turned the monitor toward you. Her finger hovered over your uterus. “Do you see that?”

You gazed at the screen, slowly picking apart what you were viewing.

The outline of your uterus was there, clear as day, or as clear as it could be through an ultrasound image. Inside of your uterine bubble, however, sat two black splotches, each with a tiny white speck inside.

Law stood from his chair, his eyes blown wide.

“Mrs. Trafalgar, there's two babies in there.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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mitsies · 1 year

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FAKING IT ! ; karasu tabito > being in love with your best friend is not for the faint of heart.

you were getting really, really sick of everyone thinking you were dating your best friend.

it was an all-too-common misconception, at this point– a mistake that most people in your life were guilty of making at least once or twice. your best friend, your parents, even your teachers have accidentally made that false connection.

at first, you didn’t mind it. in fact, it made you feel a little fuzzy inside, and it had brought the both of you a few laughs. after all, it was kind of a compliment to be deemed as karasu tabito’s partner, especially since you’ve been in love with him for god knows how long. after the first twenty or so times it just began to feel like salt in the wound.

yes, yes, you get it– you’re pathetically, stupidly, horribly down bad for the boy you’ve known since you were 6 years old. and yeah, you understand– it’s really fucking obvious. you don’t need even more people to point it out. that’s just kind of rude.

karasu, your childhood best friend, didn’t really seem to care for the comments. he’d raise a brow and deny them before returning to the conversation at hand as if you weren’t looking at him with heart eyes and the visceral need to kiss him stupid.

after the first dozen asks of ‘oh, are you guys together?’ or comments about how ‘you guys are such a cute couple!’ it almost became a reflex to shut them down with an awkward laugh and a polite refutal of their statement. it happened far too often for you to not be used to it. so when a pretty girl with a high ponytail and choppy bangs came up to the both of you as you were sitting on a bench after school, you’d basically expected her to ask if the both of you were dating.

you were not, however, able to predict this.

with teeth gritted, you listened as the girl chatted up your best friend with a sweet smile and pink cheeks. you wanted to hurl as she let her hand fall to his shoulder as she laughed a honeyed little giggle. and karasu, that stupid bonehead, looked like he was eating up every second of it. you knew he had a big ego but this was a little humiliating for the both of them. god, men are so easy, and he is not an exception.

“you’re so funny,” the girl, whom you recognised from your history class as a new transfer from tokyo named asami. you bet her bangs were a cover-up for her receding hairline and you wish for a gust of wind to flutter past and expose her, and hopefully give karasu an ick because she’d be bald by 20. “and this ring necklace? so cute. where’s it from? we should match.”

asami was practically draped over him and you’re sure you looked about ready to burst a blood vessel. karasu, at this point, was also looking a bit uncomfortable with the sheer amount of physicality being shared between the two. “we should totally go out sometime.”

you scoot away a little on the bench. as much as you adore karasu, and as much as you wanted to punch this chick, you had no idea what to say. your movements, though, garners her attention. “oh! you’re in one of my classes yeah?”

“uh, yeah. history.”

and then, she sees it– a ring identical to the one she’d just been complimenting karasu on, which he wore on a necklace. they were a token of the both of your friendships a gift he’d gotten the both of you years ago on your birthday. neither of you had taken them off since.

“oh,” asami starts, “are you two together?”

there it was. the age old question. you look towards karasu, expecting him to shoot this notion down as per usual. only this time, he doesn’t.

“we are,” he asserted, shifting an arm around your shoulders causing you to freeze up, “so you should probably leave us alone, yeah?”

the girl looks despondent and she purses her lips and takes her leave, and you can’t help but grin a little as the soon-to-be-bald blonde struts away with a broken pride. you bask in the feeling of self-satisfaction for a few more heartbeats when you remember– oh. karasu’s arm is around your shoulder. oh. he’d just said you were dating. oh.

you look at him. he looks at you. and then he has the audacity to ask: “so, what were we talkin’ about?”

you don’t reply because you’re too busy fighting your demons. they’re willing you to smack him in the face and you almost want to comply just because you want to touch his face. “you’re such a manwhore.”

“‘scuse me?”

“i so want to beat the shit out of you right now.”

karasu scoffs playfully and his arm tightens around your shoulder. “don’t say that.”

a bubble of rage is building up into a storm inside your chest. it’s blending with the love, and the confusion, and the whatever else you were feeling because what was going on?

you slide out of his grasp and he has the nerve to look confused. you’re sure you look upset because his expression changes just a little, shifting to one that was unreadable. “what is it?”

you open your mouth before snapping it shut again. cogs were whirring behind your head and alarm bells were ringing at full volume as you try, and fail, to conjure up a response.

“we’re not dating,” you eventually manage. your words are stiff and almost sound robotic but at least they’re out there.

karasu raises a brow at you. “yeah. we aren’t. i just said that to get her to go away. and it worked wonders, didn’t it?”

you want to punch him again but you think you’re frozen to the spot, a rush of embarrassment flooding your cheeks. “we’re not dating,” you say again, like you’re awaiting a final confirmation. it’s more of a question than a statement.

karasu has always been one of the smartest people you’ve known. he was the top of his classes, a brilliant sports player for the school’s team, and never received marks below perfect. his intelligence, unfortunately for you, was not only limited to the realm of textbooks and fill-in-the-blank tests. he could read anyone like an open book– you were not exempt.

“but you want us to be.”

as always, karasu tabito is right on the money. there was no use in lying at this point. he sits back and exhales, no longer looking at you as you cross your arms over your chest. attempting to get up, you begin to shift and gather your schoolbag– a hand stops you.

karasu is smiling. you want to kick him in the teeth– how could he be smiling when he was just about to reject you? but as you look at him with an expression that would be a glare if it held any real malice, his hand comes up to your jaw.

and he kisses you.

naturally, the only correct thing to do is to shove him away. but your hands come up to his chest and instead of that you pull him closer, bunching up the button-down of his uniform until you’re sure it’s wrinkled beyond repair. you need him closer, even more so, you need him to kiss you ‘til you can’t speak any longer, and you’re so fucking confused but you’re breathing him like oxygen, like he’s all you’ll ever need.

when you break away for a breath, neither of you say anything. his schoolbag has spilled all over the ground and his hair is no longer sticking up because your hands were in it (and you note that he should wear his hair like this more often), and he’s breathing hard as he looks at you. “fuckin’ finally.”

you give in to your demons and slap him right across the face.

“what the fuck?”

“you are the worst ever, tabito,” you spit, “what the fuck?”

“you just slapped me.”

“and you just kissed me!”

karasu blinks at your outburst, as if he’d been unaware of his previous actions. “oh. i kissed you.”

“yeah, yeah you fucking did.”

“but you kissed me back.”

and it’s your turn to stop. “i did.”

“because you like me.”

and you’ve never been able to lie to him for long, so you respond with: “i do.”

“and i like you too.”

you blink at him. he stares at you, before asking: “can i kiss you again?”

and you laugh. tension snaps, ice shatters, everything is okay. in fact, it’s better than okay because you aren’t the silly teenager in love with their best friend anymore– you’re someone with another someone, you’ve got your love story in the bag now.

“take me out to dinner first, tabito.”

“you’re so difficult, fine. tonight? i can pick you up at 6.”

“and bring me flowers.”

“don’t push it.”

you slide into him and let him melt around you, uncaring for the bystanders because you’ve already waited too long for this. “flowers or no deal.”

“okay, fine, flowers.”

“and then you can kiss me again.”

“not now?”

you purse your lips and pretend to be in deep, careful consideration. “depends. is asami still here? i want her to see this.”

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event with the prompts "fucking finally." + everyone thinks you guys are dating— one day you both decide to play along

[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]

#blue lock x reader #karasu tabito x reader #karasu tabito #tabito karasu x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #mitsies 3k #this is not bery good byt wtv!#sorry the s*e fic is ruining my quality of work and life

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xiaq · 1 year

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Steddie outsider POV pt. 5

AO3 Pt. 1 Robin Pt. 2 Wayne Pt. 3 Wayne's Boyfriend Pt. 4 Will

Tommy Hagan isn’t proud of the person he was in high school. If he’s honest, he isn’t proud of the person he was for most of college either. But by the end of college, he’d had enough experiences and met enough people that challenged his previous worldviews to realize who he was wasn't who he wanted to be. And he had the ability to change. So he did.

He feels like a good portion of the last eight years of his life has been doing penance for the first twenty. So when he gets the Hawkins High School Reunion invitation in the mail, his first impulse is not to go. He hasn’t been in contact with his former friends since two days after graduation when he packed up his car and left Hawkins for good; there’s no reason for him to inflict his presence on the people he used to torment.

But (and this is the ‘but’ that makes him reconsider).

Steve might be there.

And Steve sits apart from everyone else, because Tommy does want to see him. Not desperately, not like he’s been pining all these years. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had thoughts. That he hasn’t wondered.

He’s learned a lot in the last decade. About himself and his—embarrassingly clear now—preference for men. And in the process he learned that ‘practicing kissing’ with your best friend was not a normal heterosexual activity. Which means Steve, maybe, has realized the same sorts of things about himself. And it’s not like he thinks they’ll see each other again after all this time and fall into each other's arms but…well. He’s Steve. And if Tommy has a chance with him, no matter how small, he’s still going to take it.

He responds yes to the invitation. He books his flights.

He works out a bit more than usual in the weeks leading up to it.

No reason.

His primary objective, of course, cannot be hoping to seduce Steve. His first priority needs to be making amends. So when the day finally arrives and he puts on his suit and the cab drops him at the familiar front roundabout, he walks through the double doors, picks up his name tag, and starts his apology tour.

It takes a while.

By the time he’s made a circuit of the badly decorated gymnasium and apologized to everyone who’ll let him approach them, it’s been an hour. He’s managed to mostly avoid his former friends and feels he deserves the beer he’s just freed from the slushy water in the ice chest.

And that’s when he sees him: Steve Harrington.

He looks good. Better, even, than Tommy had expected. He’s wearing a plain white T, aviator sunglasses tucked in the collar, and black jeans. Lace up black boots. His hair is almost exactly the same, maybe a little longer, than the last time Tommy saw him a decade before. Not even a hint of a receding hairline, damn him.

Tommy would think no time had passed at all if not for the full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and long-healed scars on his right, the fact that his shoulders are a little broader, his chest a little thicker. Clearly he never stopped working out, unlike the majority of the former basketball team members milling about around them.

He looks like a fucking rock star. Or a movie star. And clearly Tommy is not the only one who has noticed. Within seconds Steve has gathered a crowd and Tommy can’t help but push his way into the fringe of it, watching Steve smile politely and gently shrug off more than one woman’s touch. He shifts his cup to his left hand and takes a long, pointed, drink.

There’s a wedding band on his finger.

Tommy knows he shouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t honestly think something was going to happen between them. But then again, a ring might not even mean much. He’s spent weekends with men who play straight Monday through Friday plenty of times.

Steve meets his eye and smiles cautiously behind the rim of his cup. “Tommy. Hey.”

Fuck. Maybe he does still have a chance.

“Hey,” he says, and then, to the larger group, “ladies, do you mind if I steal Steve for a minute?”

A few of them whine like they’re still in high school, Stacy Ferguson actually twirls her hair, but they let Steve leave with him and they meander toward one of the cocktail tables under the basketball goal.

“You look good,” Steve says. Tommy can’t decide if he should read anything into that.

“Me? Have you seen yourself? And I thought you were insufferable in high school.”

He laughs, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair.

“Listen,” Tommy says. “I know I was a massive dick to you, there at the end, that I was…generally a shitty person in high school, and I’ve always wanted to apologize to you. I’ve been apologizing to a lot of people today. But you were––you were important to me. And I regret how we ended things. So. I’m sorry.”

Steve considers him, a little pinch between his brows that is winding in its familiarity. “I appreciate the apology. What brought about the change of heart, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“College. Maturity. New York, in general.”

“Getting out of the echo chamber that is Hawkins?” He says knowingly.

Tommy points at him.

“You still in New York?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Lawyer. Just like dad always wanted. You?”

Steve whistles. “Nothing so impressive. We own a music venue in San Fran, but that sounds fancier than it is. I mostly split my time between playing bouncer and playing bartender.”

San Fran. Tommy tries to catch Steve’s eye. Tries to see if there’s an underlying message there. But Steve is smiling over Tommy’s shoulder at something.

“We?” Tommy repeats.

“Me and my husband,” Steve says distractedly, like the word doesn’t fucking—doesn’t take Tommy out at the knees.

“Your…what?” he asks blankly.

Except Steve is full-out grinning now and raises his voice to shout, “speak of the devil!”

Someone slides past Tommy, all leather and hair and chains and throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“And the devil shall appear,” Eddie Munson crows.

Eddie. Munson.

Who looks much the same as he did in high school, albeit with more tattoos and scars down his neck and arm that look strangely similar to the scars on Steve’s arm. Tommy gets stuck for a moment comparing them before he notices something else.

Eddie’s left hand is hanging down to cup Steve’s pec. And there’s a gold wedding band, stark amongst the other silver rings on his hand. It matches the one Steve’s wearing.

“What the fuck,” he says quietly.

“Well, shit,” Eddie says. “Hagan, did we break you?”

Steve purses his lips. “Let’s just give him a minute to process.” He turns to face Eddie fully, speaking quietly into the pocket of space between them. “You still sure?”

“I am literally grabbing your boob right now, I don’t know how much more obvious a claim I can stake here unless you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth. Which even I find ill-advised in this particular setting.”

“Just saying. Rental car doesn’t have a bat in the trunk and we’ve both had too many concussions already.”

“Like we haven’t been up against far worse odds and survived. Don’t worry, Stevie, I’ll protect your pretty head. So would Hagan, I bet. He owes us. Right?”

Tommy thinks he might be dead. That his plane went down and this is some sort of death-bed hallucination.

But then again, if this was something his brain had engineered, he’d be the one holding on to Steve’s pec.

Eddie’s looking at him like he's fully aware of what Tommy is thinking.

“Say,” Eddie says quietly, not exactly mean, but certainly not friendly, “did you know that shit you two used to get up to was actually really gay?”

“I…figured that out,” he says faintly, “yeah.”

“Makes the things you used to call me feel a little hypocritical now in retrospect, huh?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, and then, with remembered urgency: “I’m not out.”

The edge to Eddie’s expression softens. “No kidding, buddy. You’re safe with us. Despite the fact that you were a grade A asshole to me and, more importantly, you broke Stevie’s heart a little.”

“He was just apologizing for that.” Steve says.

“I don’t—how long have you two—“

“Eight years,” Steve says.

“Three months, one week and four days,” Munson adds, drumming his fingers on Steve’s collarbone.

“But who’s counting,” Steve says fondly.

“Me,” Munson says, “obviously.”

“Eight years,” Tommy repeats.

“Three months, one week and four days,” Munson repeats.

“How?”

“An excellent, and fair, question,” Munson says, gesturing to himself. “Considering.”

“Eddie,” Steve says warningly.

Munson rolls his eyes. “I fell for him, oh, I’d guess about the same time you did, Tommy boy. Took him a few years to catch up to me, but after my heroic actions during the, uh, earthquake the year after you left, he tended my wounds and I won him over with my subtle wit and ebullient charm.”

“You are a delight,” Steve says. Tommy thinks he’s trying to be sarcastic but he doesn’t pull it off very well.

“And then,” Eddie drops his voice, leaning into Tommy, dragging Steve with him since they’re still attached, “I kept him ensorcelled with my sexual prowess.”

“Eddie,” Steve hisses.

“Yes dear?”

It is, unfortunately, all too easy for Tommy to picture them…together. He can feel his face flushing, something he’d always hoped he’d grow out of and never did.

“You got anyone in your life, now?” Steve asks, earnest as ever.

“Not currently, no. Are you really––are you just. Out?”

“Not always,” Steve says. He reaches up, touches the ring on Eddie’s hand like it’s a habitual gesture. “But we’ve got the privilege of not having to hide in our daily life. Makes us a little more stupid when we go other places.”

“A little more brave, darling,” Eddie murmurs. “We’re calling it bravery.”

“You’re calling it bravery.”

“Well,” Tommy says. “I’m here for you. I guess.” He hasn’t been in a fight in a while but he figures it’s like riding a bike. And Eddie is right. He does owe them. Then again, looking around the gym, he doesn’t think anyone here would risk a fight with them anyway. Over half the people present probably still think Munson is a serial killer.

“Just as I suspected,” Munson says. “Welcome to the team.”

“The team?”

Eddie gestures behind him with the hand that isn’t still clamped on Steve’s chest. “Gareth and the boys are in the old Hellfire room, Jonathan should be here in another ten minutes, Nance was talking to someone in the parking lot last I saw her and Robin is––”

“Present!” Robin Buckley chorales, skipping forward to crash into Eddie’s back. She presses an obnoxious kiss first to Eddie’s cheek, and then shoves her face in between their heads to get to Steve’s. She narrows her eyes at Tommy.

“Hagan.”

“Buckley.”

Her eyes narrow even further. “Tommy Hagan knows my name,” she says, sotto voice to Eddie. “Should we find this suspicious?”

“Steve was friends with you senior year,” Tommy explains. And that’s probably saying too much, but he’s already clearly lost his footing in this conversation.

“Mm,” she agrees. “I sure was. Since other people ditched him for showing a modicum of moral backbone.”

“He was just apologizing for that,” Steve says.

“Good.”

Tommy remembers the beer in his hand with relief. He drains half of it.

“Shall we mingle?” Eddie murmurs, sounding far too excited about the prospect.

“As you wish,” Steve says magnanimously.

Tommy follows them.

***

He has fun, is the thing.

And he doesn’t have to fight anyone.

Eddie is actually kind of hilarious, walking a tightrope between goading and endearing. And Robin—she’d give some of the guys at his firm a run for their money in quick-witted comebacks. She also can dance, which Tommy finds out about ten minutes after the shitty band starts playing and she grabs his hand, asking if he still knew how to lindy hop. And he does, he just has no idea how she knew that he knew and he doesn’t get the chance to ask before she’s dragging him to the middle of the pathetic dance floor. They stay there for a while, garnering praise and envious glances and they keep an eye out for Eddie and Steve but it’s become clear that no one is going to try and start something. Even the guys who sneer at them when their backs are turned aren’t willing to say anything to their faces. Separately, they’re impressive enough, but together, they’re imposing. And they both move with just a hint of something dangerous in their posture. Something…feral. Maybe. His eyes keep lingering on their scars. They aren’t knife wounds. He’s seen those. These look like teeth. But that doesn’t make any sense.

Regardless, as the night starts to wind down, he’s pretty sure it’s the most fun he’s had in years. He never could have imagined when he was booking his tickets that he would end up sitting on the bleachers with Robin Buckley leaning against his arm, watching as Eddie Munson—who had cajoled or possibly bribed, the band to let him borrow their guitar—plays an unhinged metal cover of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by ABBA.

When he finishes, Eddie gives a flourishing bow, returns the guitar, and then steps directly into Steve’s arms, hands bracketing Steve’s neck, leaning in to kiss him like they don’t give a fuck they’re in the middle of Hawkins Indiana.

It’s—Jesus.

He doesn’t know what it is.

But it sure is something.

“Gentlemen,” Robin calls, “shall we adjourn? Hop and Joyce are waiting and it’ll be their bedtime in another hour.”

“Hop?” Tommy asks.

“Chief Hopper,” Robin explains. “He’s basically Steve’s adopted father. Well. One of them, anyway.”

“Oh,” Tommy says faintly. “Does he…know?”

“For sure. He’s cool as a cucumber. Been to visit us in California at least once a year since we moved.”

“Didn’t he arrest Munson multiple times?”

“Eh, water under the bridge. They’re best buds, now. They talk on the phone every Sunday while Eddie works in the garden. And Eddie is the planner, so he’s the one that schedules their visits. They conspire to keep Steve happy and healthy.”

“That’s…good.” Tommy says.

“It is.”

Robin pats his arm, pulling him to stand with her. “You know, you could visit us too, if you wanted. Eddie and Steve have a guest bedroom and my girlfriend and I have a very nice pull-out couch.” She eyes him seriously, the levity leaving her voice. “You used to mean something to Steve,” she says, “maybe you could again. If you wanted.”

He does.

He watches Eddie swing Steve around in a farce of a Waltz, both of them laughing. He watches Nancy and Jonathan join them—Nancy leading. He glances at Robin beside him. He thinks he might want to mean something to all of them. If that’s an option.

“Are you serious?” He asks.

“Yeah, of course.”

“That would be nice,” he says.

Eddie and Steve draw even with them, still laughing, fingers linked together.

“Hagan,” Eddie says. “When’s your flight out?”

“Not until tomorrow night,” he says.”I’m staying at the Greenbriar.”

“Good, you’re coming with us to Hopper’s, then.”

He meets Eddie’s eyes. He can’t exactly read what’s there, but he’s grateful for whatever it is.

“I’d like that.” He says.

They emerge into the parking lot with a burst of cool evening air and Tommy inhales slowly, face tipped up to the sky. For all the perks of New York, you certainly didn’t get stars like this there.

“I’m riding with Hagan,” Robin says.

“I’m riding—“ Eddie starts, but he doesn’t get to finish because everyone present aside from Tommy starts shouting over him.

Steve leans in, presses his face into Eddie’s hair and says something that makes him cackle.

“We’ll see you there,” he shouts to no one in particular, “maybe a couple minutes late, though.”

“And this is why I’m riding with you,” Robin says. “Also why you might want to stay with me if you visit. They got comfortable in the honeymoon phase and decided to never leave which is, you know, great for them and really fucking annoying for everyone else.”

Tommy unlocks his rental but can’t seem to stop watching as Steve and Eddie approach their own car—Steve exaggeratedly opening the door for Eddie while Eddie pretends to swoon.

He watches as King Steve and Eddie the freak Munson peel out of the Hawkins High parking lot, windows down, a guitar riff blaring, hands linked on the gearshift.

Robin Buckley is in his passenger seat, messing with the radio and giving him largely unhelpful driving directions to Chief Hopper's house.

This is not what he expected from this trip.

But he’s not at all upset about it.

Not at all.

He’s become pretty jaded in the last few years; a combination of his job, politics, romantic encounters, and existing, in general. But watching Steve and Eddie’s taillights fade as they turn onto the main road, Tommy thinks that maybe he still believes in happy endings.

#steddie #steddie fic #outsider pov #outsider pov steddie #myfic #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie/steve #stranger things #tommy hagan

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just-antithings · 17 days

Note

Does the "this ship with an age gap of three years is pedophilia" crowd feel that way when the ship is two old men with wrinkles and receding hairlines? I have a burning need to know if my old man yaoi is problematic enough to get me cancelled (sarcasm)

Absolutely

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #pedophillia mention

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i-think-i-did-it-again · 8 months

Text

The Tour VII

Author’s Note: this chapter was way longer than intended but I had so much I had to get in! Warning: swearing, smut

The club is absolutely pumping as you make your way inside. You’re immediately escorted to a VIP area that overlooks the entire club, waitresses standing at attention ready to take orders. You see the lust in their eyes as they take in all the men, paying particular attention to Colson. You push down your feelings of jealousy and give your order to the young brunette, who looks barely old enough to drink let alone serve you.

Sophie insists on dancing as soon as the drinks arrive, instructing the boys to keep an eye on our drinks. Sophie leads the way back down the stairs, holding your hand and Ashleigh trails behind you, holding your other hand. You can’t miss the stares of the men around you as the three of you make your way onto the dance floor.

“How many of them do you think would be turned off if I told them I was a mother?” Ashleigh yells at you over the music.

“It’s Vegas so probably none of them,” you yell back with a grin.

The music is loud, your blood is pumping and the rhythm is seeping into your bones. The three of you spin around each other, bumping and grinding as you dance in a tight circle. You’re purposely creating an impenetrable wall as none of you have any interest in being approached by a man. A few guys try to get your attention by pressing up against each of you but you just shove them off. The wall is working well until one guy can’t seem to take a hint.

A short, stout man with a receding hairline and sunspots littered across his leather skin, puts his hands on your waist and pulls you to him. Your butt lands on his crotch and the small, hard object pressed firmly against your butt cheek makes you want to vomit. You try to push away from him but he just grips you tighter, grinding himself against you. His fingers dig in so hard it hurts but as quickly as he appears, the quicker he disappears.

You turn around just as Colson rips the man backwards by his collar, sending him flying into the crowd. He grabs your hand and drags you towards an exit door. The door leads to a private hallway, clearly meant for staff but no one says anything as they scurry past the two of you.

“Are you ok?” Colson looks over your features for any hint of distress but all he sees is pure disgust.

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to do that,” you mumble and his face falls. “But thank you.”

He smiles at you reaching out to stroke your cheek with the back of his fingers and suddenly you’d rather be anywhere but in this nightclub. Images of having Colson on top of you moaning your name flash through your mind and you cheeks flame.

“I love the effect I have on you.”

Colson presses closer to you and all you can smell is him. His deep, rich scent fills your nostrils and you complete space. You reach out to touch his toned torso, liking the way his lips quiver at your touch. You lift his t-shirt slightly so your hand can grace his skin and he rolls his head back with a groan.

“Fuck honey,” he grits through his teeth.

“We should go,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and Colson’s head flicks down to you.

He wastes no time. Grabbing your wrist he leads you down the hallway to a small room, a group of employees sitting around chatting. Colson pulls out a crisp $100 bill and instructs one of them to show him out the back door. A young guy with acne scars and oily hair stands and leads the two of you through the room to a service entry. Colson hands him the bill before grabbing your hand and leading you down the street. He hails a cab and instructs the driver to the parking lot that the buses are parked in.

You text Ashleigh to tell her you don’t feel well and that Colson is going to take you back to the bus. 10 minutes later she replies with a ‘Feel better and make sure he doesn’t leave your side’.

Oh, he definitely won’t be leaving my side for the rest of the night.

When you arrive back at the bus, your driver is nowhere in sight but Colson pulls a key out of his back pocket and unlocks the door. He steps aside so you can go in first and closes the door behind him. As soon as the door is closed, your lips are on his. The shock of your advancement causes him to stumble back but he regains his balance and steadies the two of you. He lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist and walks you backwards to his bedroom.

Colson kicks the door open and places you on the bed, resting between your legs. Every now and then, he grinds his hips down on you, rubbing his hard cock on your soaking panties. The move is so infrequent that it catches you off guard every time. You tear his t-shirt off, scraping your nails down his back.

“I want to finish what I started earlier,” you tell him in between kisses and he leans back to stare down at you.

He nods and lies himself down on the bed, kicking off his shoes, flicking on a small lamp and allowing you to take control. Suddenly, you’re very nervous. You can feel his eyes on you and it makes you unbelievably self-conscious. It’s not like you’ve never given a blowjob before but with Colson, somehow it feels more intimate than with anyone else you’ve been with.

When you gave him one earlier, well half of one, you were confident because you had no intention of finishing it. You wanted to tease him, to torture him with a hanging fruit that was just out of his reach. Now you feel the pressure of being within reach.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Colson whispers, reading the hesitation on your face.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…Can you close your eyes?” you ask him and he eyes you suspiciously.

“You’re not going to strip me down and run off with all my clothes like some bad teen movie, are you?” you giggle but shake your head at his ridiculous concern.

He obliges and closes his eyes, resting his arms behind his head. You lift his shirt, running your fingers along his snail trail to the waistband of his pants. His breathing stops and he bites his bottom lip at your touch. You undo the button of his jeans and drag his zipper down slowly, your confidence returning. You trail kisses from hip bone to hip bone and Colson bucks each time your lips drag across his skin.

“Fuck baby,” he mewls and a smile plays on your lips.

“Just sit back and relax, daddy,” you growl and he groans.

You pull his pants and briefs down to his knees. His dick springs free of its confines, throbbing and twitching. You’re surprised he’s not in pain from how angry and contort the veins appear to be. You gently caress a finger from his balls, up the underside of his shaft, to the tip. Colson tries to remain neutral but you can see it’s slowly torturing him. His fingers flex on the bed sheet, gripping tightly and releasing. You smile to yourself gently as you lick up and down his shaft.

“Yeah, right there…mmm fuck, just like that,” he encourages you with his deep raspy voice.

You bob your head faster, twisting your wrists as you pump up and down. The sound of Colson’s low moans and curses only egg you on. Your mouth and hand is moving so fast, everything is a blur. He growls before suddenly releasing himself from your mouth with a loud pop. He drags you up the bed, flipping you onto your back and mounting you. He holds your hands above your head, kissing down your neck to the top of your cleavage. You writhe and whine beneath him.

“Please, let me touch you,” you beg as your body heats with each drag of his lips.

He said nothing, instead continuing his descent down your body. He uses one slender finger to move your thong out of the way, exposing your dripping pussy to him. He kisses up your thigh, dipping his nose between your lips to inhale your scent. You’re practically panting for him by this point. He licks the length of your slip, a low growl escaping your lips and your hips lift off the bed.

“Stay still,” he commands before dipping his tongue into your tight hole.

A flash of colour fills your vision at the feeling of his rough tongue but you push against every instinct to move. He begins to lap the juices that drip from your pussy, turning you on more and more. He grinds his face against you, his nose occasionally hitting your clit.

“Please, Kells, I need you,” you beg him again and this time, your words hit him hard.

Colson looks up from between your legs, the desperation on your face turning him on more than he thought possible. Hearing your breathy voice beg for him is too irresistible.h winds his way back up your body, kissing you deeply, passionately. His tongue slips its way between your parted lips and caresses your own.

He lines himself up, still holding your wrists in his hand, and slips himself in slowly. You take a moment to adjust to his size but once he begins to pull back, you’re practically purring. Goosebumps erupt on your skin but you don’t feel at all cold. If anything, your skin feels on fire with him above you. He holds your wrists in both his hands, sitting half up to look down at your face as he begins a steady pace. He stares down at you, memorising everything you do. The way your face contorts when he hits just the right spot, the way you bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming, the way your eyes flutter as he slips back into your tight pussy. He wants to remember every single second of his time with you because he doesn’t know when he will get it again.

An overwhelming feeling begins to fill you as his pace quickens and Colson is pounding into you. You feel it start low in your belly, a burning that just can’t be extinguished. You grind yourself on his hard dick, meeting him thrust for thrust. You let him feel you, begging for him like a drug hitting your bloodstream. The fire builds, winding its way up your chest, spreading to your fingers and toes. Just as the fire feels as though it may burn you a wave crashes over you and your orgasm bursts through you.

“FUCK KELLS!” you cry out just as the door to the tour bus opens.

Colson immediately covers your mouth with his lips, swallowing your moans and curses. Your body quivers as you try and calm down from your high. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet but the orgasm that is currently raking through your body is shattering any shred of self-control you have. His lips quirk into smile against yours as he hides any ounce of sound that tries to escape. He continues to grind against you, riding out your high with you. A knock at the door grinds his thrusts to a complete stop and you whine against his lips.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against your lips and you nod. The knock turns frantic however and he’s forced to respond. “What?!” he calls out and you can tell his tone was harsher than he intended because he looks almost guilty.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Ashleigh asks through the door. “She told me she didn’t feel well but she’s not in her bunk.”

“She’s in here…uhh asleep,” he grumbles, winking at you.

“Oh,” is all Ashleigh says and you can tell she’s confused.

“The bunk was making her feel nauseous so I said she could lie down in here,” he quickly adds.

You’re confused as to why he felt the need to clarify further. Normally he doesn’t give a fuck what conclusions people make. Ashleigh instructs him to text her if your condition worsens, before heading back to her own bus. Colson turns back to you, a grin splitting his face but your own expression is dark. You know it’s a dumb thing to focus on but something about his reaction bothers you. The fact that he felt the need to explain why you’re in his room considering you’re nothing more than friends, at least that’s what everyone else thinks, feels…insulting. Given the fact that he’s still inside you, you’re caught as to how to bring it up without sounding whiny or clingy.

“Why did you say that?” you ask him calmly, as he kisses your neck again.

“Say…what?” he returns between kisses and you roll your eyes, placing a hand on his chest to force him to look at you.

“Give Ashleigh some shitty excuse as to why I’m in here. Like, I can’t just be in here with you alone because what would people think?” your calm tone is slipping and you have to take a deep breath to regain your composure.

Colson’s face drops and he reaches to stroke his thumb along your cheek. “No, that’s not how I meant it, I just didn’t want her to keep asking questions while we’re, you know,” he looks down to where the two of you connect and a blush creeps across your face. “I wasn’t done with you yet,” he whispers in your ear and your insides quiver.

Before you can say anything, he pulls out of you before slamming back into you. You cry out in pleasure and he repeats the move over and over. Just when you don’t think it could get better, he flips you onto your stomach and takes your from behind. Pounding into you, he spanks you in between thrusts.

“Fuck, I love watches your ass jiggle for me,” he growls before landing a loud smack onto your cheek.

You’re not sure if it’s his words, his thrusts or his spanking or a combination of all three but an unexpected orgasm tears through you.

“That’s it…baby, cum…for daddy,” Colson strains between thrusts before his cock twitches inside of you and he fills you with his load.

He collapses on top of you. His breaths fanning your neck, causing your hair to swirl against your skin. As Colson softens, he pulls out of you, lying next to you. You have to pee, you know you have to pee but you’re worried he’ll leave again. Where’s he going to go though? It’s not like he can run off to a hotel room or something. As if reading your mind, he rolls towards you with a small smile on his lips.

“Stay with me tonight?” he whispers before kissing you gently.

You’re nodding before you can overthink it and you skip to the bathroom. When you come back to the room, Colson is lying under the sheets, his arm under his head, and he stares up at the ceiling. The lamp is still on but has been dimmed and it bathes the room in a soft yellow light. You sit on the other side of the bed and he regards you for a moment, his eyebrows raised.

“Wouldn’t that dress be uncomfortable to sleep in?” he asks as you lie down next to him. You look down, almost forgetting you were wearing it.

“Hmm, it’s a strong possibility,” you smile at him.

He frowns and slips out from under the sheets, rummaging around the floor. He picks up his earlier discarded t-shirt and hands it to you. You smile at his sweet gesture. You know damn well that your pjs are not that far away but who are you to turn down a boy’s t-shirt? You lift your dress over your head, dropping it at your feet. Colson’s eyes drag over your half naked body, your red thong and lack of bra on full display. His mouth hangs open and you know you will never get over his reaction to your body. It makes your whole body blush every time. You pull his shirt over your head and it falls mid-thigh.

When the shirt is on, you slip your thong off and tuck it under your dress on the floor. You climb back into the bed and Colson immediately pulls you to his chest, cradling you against him. He reaches behind him to flick off the lamp and you drift into unconsciousness, the feeling of his warm body against yours and the sound of his deep breathing in your ear.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #colson baker smut #colson baker x reader

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notknickers · 8 months

Text

in the last few days, i have been rotating the big austrian lad in my head relentlessly and, even though i may change my mind about some of these, or have mutually exclusive headcanons cohexist in different renditions of him, i feel like he is starting to take more deifinite shape in my mind. therefore, i want to write a list of my interpretation and share it, both for personal reference, since i'm juggling two different fics, and as modest contribution to fandom. i'll try to keep things coherent, but...

in spite of the misleading banner, which portrays a silly, cartoonish version of tentakönig i had a lot of fun doodling specially to embellish this post, the following is about human!könig, military contractor. that is just to give an idea of how much he has been bouncing in my skull as if my brain were a trampoline.

♛ he is between forty-two and forty-five years of age;

♛ his untreated social anxiety only increased during his military recruitment and gradually exacerbated into full-on PTSD during his career as contractor; he is afflicted by dissociative episodes, panic attacks and night terrors, as a consequence, which he keeps hidden at any and all cost and manages covertly, sometimes through questionable means;

♛ he is very quiet, pensive and observant. as such, he loathes using more words than he needs to and uses as little as he can, trying to avoid long conversations and small talk alike;

♛ his mask is the only remnant of his pre-military life. he clings to it as a reminder of his own humanity, of the person he used, for good or ill, to be and as acknowledgement of how far he has come from the scrawny, fearful lad he was, even when sometimes, he wishes he would have made different choices;

♛ under his mask, the features on his face are slightly uneven, such as one of his ears, which hangs at a slightly different angle than the other and his left cheekbone, still crooked from a past injury that healed poorly. he also has some deeper disfigurement, the scars of which still remain, less and less visible as time passes, and his lips are ruined. these are the consequence of both maltreatment and bullying during his childhood and adolescence, from both callous peers and neglectful parents, and of injuries incurred on the job. ironically, the worst are not from his military career, however. as such, he barely ever removes his mask, chiefly when alone or on leave.

♛ his hair is light in colour, kept cropped very short as it tends to grow quickly and get matted under his mask and helmet, but beyond the slightly receding hairline typical of men his age, he is nowhere near starting to bald; ♛ his eyes are grey. not blue, nor black. grey. sometimes lighter, sometimes darker, sometimes glittery and glassy, but always grey, according to his state and the light conditions;

♛ even though he is barely average in attractiveness and the presence of keloidal scar tissue, which often ranges from being off-putting to instilling repulsion in others, he is noticeable in size. some would find the mass of packed, rounded muscles in more than 2m rather interesting. however, given that very fact, he probably has or will soon start experiencing heart issues as he ages. realistically, he will probably die younger than his peers, in spite of being in top shape;

♛ his approach is practical and detached: if he's on a rescue mission, that's what he will focus on; what happens afterwards is none of his business, as long as his job is done and he gets recognition remuneration for it. if, on the other hand, civilians or competitors are a liability, he will not hesitate to take care of the situation in the most expedient way, the way that will not impair the status of his mission;

♛ this strong preference for detachment and pragmatism is not to say that he does not take pride in his skills, even though his job is nothing more than a means towards an end, or, well, more than one. namely, a paycheque to live comfortably and never fear poverty or food insecurity again; isolation from people or controlled interactions with predictable scripts, when necessary; the rules that apply, which are different from those of society at large, in which he always struggled and still struggles to fit in;

♛ when engaging the enemy, he is not reckless, but he is beastly and brutal. he displays a sort of controlled berserk mode. he has no particular respect for life and under those specific circumstances, allows himself to delight in carnage. he otherwise appears in control of himself, even though he spends as much time as he can alone, so others only know him so much;

♛ he is not beyond torture, even the disfiguring, excruciating kind, the kind that carries long-lasting, when not permanent effects on body and spirit alike. however, he merely sees it as a means towards an end. he is not the type to waste time threatening and warning: he thinks practical demonstrations are more eloquent that any word. as such, his methods tend more towards the crude, than the sophisticated, but they are equally effective in half the time;

♛ when on leave, he lives frugally and anonymously, barely leaving his abode unless necessary; he lives below his means as a matter of habit, a consequence of his childhood poverty, even when he could afford much, much more;

♛ his modest flat is a pigsty and he likes to leave it like that to break out of the stifling rules and expectations of his job. this is also reflected on his shabby sense of fashion: better to be a practical slob than an elegant buffoon who wastes his hard-earned money on impractical peacocking attires;

♛ whilst true that his height, build and scars attract stares in public, he has become very adept at shutting such rudeness down with one of his strategic, whithering looks. out of combat, he is just some bloke and that is all he cares to be until he is called back from leave;

♛ he compartmentalises a lot his civilian persona from his military persona and, even within his military persona, there are more subdivisions to be found (coold-headed, reserved, collected and calculating vs murderous, bloody and savage in conflict.) to be clear, he is not ashamed of what he does for a living, but his profession also requires a lot of discretion on his part, which makes the compartmentalising already so natural to him an external necessity;

♛ he's a smoker and a drinker: as long as he still performs well on the field, he has no interest in denying himself the scant pleasures only vice can offer;

tentakönig rolled and bounced all the way down here to say: "if you do not wish to find out what i'm like sexually and romantically, do yourself a favour and do not read below. proceed at leisure, otherwise."

🗡 perhaps not every single time, but more often than not, he cries when he comes;

🗡 i get submissive vibes, with a dash of unpredictability. for now, let's say that, with his lovers, occasional and less so, he knows how to be both rough and rash or gentle and devoted. sometimes, even within the same session, all depending on mood and circumstances.

🗡 i'm toying with the idea of him having a specific type of mummy kink, the kind expressed by seeking the gentle, comforting touch of a willing-enough woman who he will address as mummy, in german, only to end up weeping on her tits as he greedily sucks on them... i may have already begun writing a fic along this lines... >.> i did and more are coming. this is both a promise and a threat.

🗡 when he gets desperate and/or fuckdrunk during his sexual encounters, he starts muttering nonsense in austrian german, incapable of focussing his brain enough to maintain some coherency; it's very endearing to see him lose control like that. if the sex in question is happening with a very lucky woman (lucky according to whom?!) who he trusts enough to be that vulnerable, besides giving in to his native tongue, he will probably also cry, as mentioned above;

🗡 when on leave, he occasionally pays for sex when he can't (or won't bother to) find anything on his own, or when he has something particular in mind and prefers to put himself in the hands of a professional;

🗡 even though he does not consider himself queer, when mercenary sex isn't in the cards, he frequents local gay clubs. as a tall, athletic, middle-aged and moderately hairy man, it is hardly challenging for him to find a willing man to fuck in the face or the arse, even though he never reciprocates;

🗡 though more or less settled in his reality full of idiosyncrasies and resigned to it, he occasionally allows himself to wander off his established path to seek companionship outside of the above-mentioned methods. he knows he could hardly stand a regular life with wife, children, pets and a less dangerous job. yet, there is a part of him still curious, which would like to discover whether he could get what everyone else allegedly seems to want, what he feels he should want but is not sure he actually does. as such, he occasionally tries and manages to establish a relationship in between deployments, but it often collapses or remains in the early stages. the older he gets, the harder he finds to make them happen, especially when he is very much not everyone's cup of tea;

🗡 nevertheless, i believe he would appreciate to know what it's like to see himself through the eyes of someone genuinely infatuated with him and not see them recoil in disgust or reflect back the image of the mindless killing machine with little depth left he considers himself to have become;

may add more in future. apologies for any potential mistake: it's very late and i don't have time to reread everything. thanks for reading.

#cod #call of duty #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #könig mwii #konig mwii #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #könig x reader #konig x reader

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marimayscarlett · 5 months

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excuuuuuse me, but richard and schneider have incredible hair, however, receding hairline has been kicking till's ass imho

Hello 👋

This has been sitting in my inbox for a little while and is most likely in response to this "hairy" ask 💆‍♀️💁‍♀️

I think I understand what you're referencing, most likely the part left and right above his forehead (in Germany we call it "Geheimratsecken"). Here it's closely visible, a picture from October:

[picture source]

But honestly? I think his hairline is just shaped this way, here are two examples from the 90s which shows his hairline looking quite similar:

And here is a pretty good comparison of Till's and Richard's hairline in this particular spot and it also looks quite similar, so Richard has those parts too - eventhough he has such thick hair 😊

[picture source]

And last but not least: Till turned 60 this year. 60! There are men out there who don't even have hair anymore when they reach this age. So I think Till's hair looks great and even if it's not that full anymore, please allow some aging happening in this group 🙏

#rammstein #till lindemann #ask #rammstein hair lore

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legendary-guest · 2 months

Text

My secret crack pairing is Motor Ed/DNAmy.

Amy already has great taste in men, there's nothing that needs to be altered on her end to get her to find him attractive. Well, what about Ed?

It's her chassis. It's huge. Her assets. You know. She's so forward, too, it really doesn't take a lot from him to get her to go along with things.

I imagine a first encounter would induce such extreme second-hand embarrassment to anyone who happens to be around them. Here is one version.

Who approaches whom - Ed. He's busy 'window shopping' in that café in Graduation, since he attended the ceremony. He needs a pick-me-up after seeing Green and cousin Drew practically hook-up on stage. Yeah, yeah, more fish in the sea but, ugh, where's he gonna find another babe like that? She fought him with that green magic and had long, beautiful black hair and her bo - Whoa.

He spots her.

Seriously. She's not a 10, but she's enough - actually, more than enough - a rejection is unlikely. He's played this game before.

One of two things could happen - she reciprocates his advances, or she turns him down. Turning him down would mean that Motor Ed would, potentially, have to compete for her attentions with the petrified corpse of a genetically altered British man obsessed with monkeys. This is insanely funny, and would be awesome. The girl he really wants is with his cousin with a receding hairline, and being rejected by a woman he is settling for could hurt his ego enough, incense him enough to really, truly pursue her. Besides, what does that - what - thing have that he doesn't? He's tall, he's tan, he's smart, he's handsome, he has an awesome mullet. What, she likes hairy guys? He's a hairy guy! Just take a look, seriously.

Option two is she reciprocates. Now, she may be committed to pursuing Monty, committed to him emotionally, but now that she's got him...what's one more? After all, after she completed her collection of Cuddle Buddies, she felt the need to make her own! She openly flirts with Mr. Barkin and even lead on Dr. Drakken. There's no way this woman doesn't go astray every now and again (frequently). He's cute, sure, but is he smart? O, he's a mechanical engineer - maybe she has heard of him - best in the country! She's a geneticist, she says, which leads into Ed using a rather awful pick-up line about not having taken biology in forever and needing a tutor.

O, doctor, it would be my pleasure. Ending the sentence with a girlish giggle and a punch to his arm. The punch doesn't hurt, but she's got some strength to her! He makes a comment about how he likes a girl that can scrap - then she really comes on to him, hand on his chest, eyes half-lidded. She tells him, in as many words, she can be real bad if that's what he really likes.

Ed likes where this is going. Really, really likes where this is going. Seriously.

It's clear that this conversation needs a change of scenery. Before they run off, she mentions that they can't leave behind Monty. Who? O, this thing. He decides to show off, picks up Monkey Fist's statue in one easy gesture it's built weird, he thinks, and sure, it's on the heavier side of things he can lift for extended periods of time, but he's got that adrenaline in him right now and she's looking up at him in awe, in surprise, and then...well, they gotta get going!

#motor ed #dnamy #amy hall #kp villains #kim possible #DNed #I had this under a read more then thought #No #This is my blog #You will be subjected to my posts if you follow #They are funny and cute to me

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