#CHEAP MOONSHINE

[lucifer-kane]

flybird strawberry margarita save me. save me flybird strawbery margarita

[crickwater]

it's truly crazy to me how many people I've seen wanting the campaign to cut to a moonshine and beverly adventure while Jake is on paternity leave and like. I can not overstate how uninterested I am in that at this point

[dogsagainstbenitojuarez]

You know everyone (small handful of strange people who like vicky 3) is talking about these new Colonial tags and whats the point of them.

Which in my mind if they states are incorporated in the tags and collecting taxes that could be awesome. You could get the overlords cut of the money, and not spend the Beaureaucracy on states that dont give you income for 20 years.

Assuming that is how they work Im not 100% sure.

[euphemiaamillais]

innocent - coriolanus snow

you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with a peacekeeper in your bed…

cw: 18+//loss of virginity//piv sex//handjobs//fingering

an: this gif is him above me 🤭🤭

perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear such a short skirt to the hob that evening. you’d caught the eye of many men as you swayed to the tunes of the covey; cheap moonshine in hand. you noticed one in particular—the one with those piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde buzzcut—was watching you intently.

you couldn’t help but blush, cheeks dancing with the warmth of being seen, chest filling with that sticky feeling. you’d felt it before, but the smiles of those other men had never amounted to anything more than a lingering kiss or two. your heart stirred when he came up to you, and you realised he was a peacekeeper. you knew better than to get entangled with one, or so you thought.

it was hard to resist one so charming and attractive.

'i saw you looking at me,' he remarked, drawing his arms around your waist.

you could barely meet his gaze, embarrassed by the way his cool touch sent a shiver down your spine and made your thighs tingle with want.

'shy are we, bunny?' he asked, removing one hand to cup your chin, drawing it up to meet his icy blue eyes.

you shook your head, but your eyes told the truth; fluttering about the room, trying to look anywhere but him. you wondered if anybody could see you—it would've been shameful to be caught so close with a peacekeeper. but nobody seemed to be paying you any heed, and so your pounding heart ceased its nervous palpitations.

‘how about a dance?’ he laced his fingers in your hand, moving it up so it rested against his shoulder.

you were acutely aware of the other hand which rested at your waist, and you couldn’t exactly say no when he had already moulded you into the perfect stance. the band began to play a slow song, and the blush stained your cheeks once again. he laughed, an almost mirthful laugh—although, coriolanus snow was never somebody to really, truly laugh—not that you knew that.

‘are you going to tell me your name, officer?’ you drawled, deciding that there was no harm in flirting. he was so handsome after all; and it would be rude not to talk to him.

‘it’s private, actually,’ he admitted bashfully, as if he was ashamed of his inferiority. but next to you, he felt powerful. you were just a district girl, and much smaller than his six foot frame. he could do anything he wanted to you.

‘well private, you ought to have a name,’ you began. ‘and it’s awful rude to not introduce yourself to a lady.’

you were teasing him; he wondered how many men you’d used that line on, but when he looked at the way you were bright red, and how your knees buckled a little, even as you attempted to maintain your composure, he reckoned it couldn’t have been many.

‘it’s private snow,’ he told you curtly.

you smiled; a pretty name. much different to the names here in 12, though you reckoned a peacekeeper was probably from one of the other, wealthier districts. not that you knew much about those.

‘well, private snow,’ your voice had a sweet twang to it, and he found himself thinking of another girl he knew, once, with that same appalachian drawl. he had come here to find her, and yet had no luck.

but you weren’t so bad—no, you were even prettier, and probably didn’t have a man like billy taupe clinging onto your skirts. he wondered if you had ever even kissed a man before. you had the sweetest looking lips, so plump, and a little wet with the moonshine you’d been sipping.

‘how are you liking district 12?’ you continued, brows quirking up with interest.

‘it’s alright. commander hoff works us to the bone but i suppose that’s the price you pay for 20 years,’ he huffed. his eyes looked a little distance—sad, perhaps. you wondered if he’d had much choice in the matter. still, even if he hadn’t, you did have to admit he would probably look good in his peacekeeper uniform.

‘20 years?’ your mouth stretched into a circle of surprise. ‘my, that’s terribly brave.’

his own cheeks reddened a little, though he quickly swallowed that feeling. he couldn’t blush, that was pathetic. that was something his fellow peacekeeper sejanus plinth did. no, a woman like you wasn’t to be caught by a blushing man. he needed to show you what it meant to be had by a peacekeeper—not the ambitious schoolboy in academy rouge that he’d left as soon as he’d set foot in 12.

‘i suppose so…’ his voice trailed off.

‘how do you keep yourself entertained, private snow?’ you asked as you swayed a little to one of the songs the covey was playing.

his mind flickered to what he’d been planning on doing to you—he’d not touched a woman in weeks, and at night he often found his body receptive to any and all thoughts. tonight, he had the chance to actually satisfy that ache that had been bottled up for weeks. he wondered if you’d feel better than that girl he did in the alley—at least his mind was clear tonight.

‘oh, dancing with pretty girls like you is one way of staving off boredom, bunny,’ he pressed a kiss to your hand, watching as your lips puckered into a bashful smile.

how innocent. he’d love to ruin you. he wondered what noises you’d make with his cock buried deep inside of you. you were probably tight as anything, just begging to be filled up with his cock.

‘well, if you think i’m pretty then i suppose i’ll have to thank you,’ you gazed up through your thick lashes, fluttering them ever-so-slightly.

his cock stirred in his pants—you were so fucking tempting. the way you were just begging to be fucked. he cocked a brow, curious as to what your intentions were.

‘what kind of thanks, bunny?’ he asked, breath fanning your ear.

‘well…’ feeling daring, you stroked at his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his shirt. you noticed the dog tag dangling, and a smirk played at his lips.

‘how about a kiss?’ you offered. oh, you were so innocent.

he nodded, and you felt your heart flutter. you worried he’d think you were being too forward, what, with you offering so quickly. but he was just so handsome. you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.

perhaps you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out…

you dragged him to a more secluded place, feeling a little too embarrassed about kissing him in the throng of people. he wondered, as you led him down the corridor of the hob, just how much you’d be thanking him. maybe you’d let him touch you a little, hands straying to cup your breasts, and then perhaps caress your hips. one thing would lead to another… and sweet virgins like you were easily persuaded.

coriolanus was swift with his kiss, leaning into you as you were pressed against the wall. you kissed back, soft at first, but when you felt his tongue pressing against your lips, you opened your mouth and surrendered.

he wrapped his hands around your waist, palming at the skin beneath your shirt. a heat crept upon your cheeks as his lips kissed yours with a hunger. pressed up against you, his cock twitched a little in his pants. he had to have you, you were practically begging for it in a skirt that short.

‘you taste so sweet, bunny,’ he mused as you pulled away from him. he wondered what you’d taste like in other places, whether your cunt had the same sweetness of your mouth.

you wanted more—your cunt ached, an unfamiliar feeling, but nontheless you knew you needed to be satisfied.

coriolanus could see this, the way you clenched your thighs together, and how your heart thumped inside your chest. he’d felt it when he’d been flush against you.

‘you wanna thank me some more?’ he inquired, blonde brow cocked.

you bit your lip, but you knew you couldn’t deny the rush inside your body, the way you were growing increasingly wet between your thighs. the ache that nagged at you, yearning to be satisfied.

‘mhm,’ you nodded dumbly, feeling his hands grab at your thighs.

‘you live alone?’ he asked, desire glinting in his eyes.

you shook your head, and a frown scampered upon his lips.

‘well, my pa’s not home til late, if you wanna come over…’ you drew a heavy breath, nerves making your knees buckle.

his frown turned to a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. how endearing, the way you called your father pa. you were so beneath him, and he was determined to teach you that you belonged to him, the poor little district girl who’d been snapped up in the peacekeeper’s trap.

—

your house wasn’t far from the hob. coriolanus was glad of this, his cock was straining so hard in his trousers—he worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and finishing without even having touched you. well, that would just be a waste; embarrassing even.

you fumbled with the keys, and he felt a smile scamper upon his lips as he watched you, so afraid, his poor little bunny, struggling to open the door. when you finally slotted the key in the lock, coriolanus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lightly across your skin.

‘you know bunny, you really should be careful around strange men,’ he murmured against your ear. you were acutely aware of what was pressing against your bottom.

‘but you’re not strange… you’re a peacekeeper,’ you hummed, moving your legs over the threshold. he still clung to you, breath heavy, hands roaming.

you had to get inside before anyone saw, and god forbid, alerted your pa. there was something deliciously thrilling about having a man inside of your home—you wondered if it made you a whore, inviting him inside and only having known him an hour. but you knew many girls who did that, and at least you weren’t taking money for it.

‘mhm, but men like me… well, they just can’t resist taking what’s theirs,’ he pinched you, watching you gasp at the stinging feeling of your delicate skin between his fingers. you looked so sweet when you squirmed.

‘well maybe i want you to take what’s yours,’ you looked up at him with wide eyes, fingers lacing against each other as you swung about.

you looked like a little lamb, so sweet and innocent. he wanted to take you between his jaw and make you bleed.

‘is that so, bunny?’ he asked, and you nodded dumbly.

you trailed along to your room, not desperate enough to let him have you against a wall, glancing back at him every so often and watching as his eyes followed you. you shoved the door open, and switched on the little lamp by your bedside table.

your room was bare, for the most part, but coriolanus felt it suited you, the cream bedsheets and the old floral wallpaper. it was so innocent. he wondered if you’d stain those sheets tonight as he stretched you out. he’d want to keep them, as a reminder of what he’d taken from you.

you sat down on the bed, and he followed suit, still reminded of his achingly hard cock. you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his trousers; it was of a considerable size, and made you gnaw at your lip in anticipation.

‘i want to help you,’ you said, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

‘help me, bunny?’ he inquired. your words were a little cryptic, but he could tell that your eyes were clearly focused on his achingly hard cock.

‘mhm, you’re so hard,’ you murmured. although you were innocent, you’d read enough romance novels to figure out what he needed.

‘you can certainly help me,’ he grabbed your hand and guided it to his clothed hard-on.

you palmed it lightly, gasping as you felt it. he watched as your mouth spread into an exclamation of delight, lips flickering a little. you were so innocent, the way you were gentle in your touches, how you sighed with amazement.

he groaned at the touch, but moved your hand away to free his cock from the restraints of his pants and boxers. your mouth hung agape as he pulled them down to his knees and you were presented with his hard cock. he was big, not that you’d really seen a cock before, but it had to be at least eight inches, and it was throbbing desperately against his stomach.

coriolanus guided your hand back, and wrapped it around the base. you could feel the blood coursing through it, and saw a little bit of precum dribbling from the tip.

‘just move your hand up and down, princess,’ he cooed, and you stroked him, sweaty palms not causing as much friction as he expected.

you moved your hand to the tip, and he urged you to give it a squeeze, groaning as you did so. you felt so good, the way you were thumbing his dripping head, stroking so diligently. but he wanted more, he needed to feel you.

your thighs burned as you continued to stroke him, and you watched as he bucked his hips a little at your touch. you fastened the pace, not too quick, but just enough that his breaths grew haggard. it didn’t seem so intimidating now that you were doing it, and his moans suggested you were doing a good job.

but still, your own body was aching with need, and you found yourself grinding into the bed. coriolanus saw this, the way you were practically squirming, and moved one of his own hands to grip at your thigh.

‘does bunny want me to touch her too?’ he said between breaths.

you nodded lazily, hand still pumping his cock. he was close already, the feeling of your hand too much, and the anticipation of finally burying himself deep inside of you was sending him over the edge.

coriolanus’ fingers traced lightly up your thigh, and when he reached your skirt, he pushed past the hem and slipped between the apex of your thighs. you spread them, and gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the wet patch of your panties.

‘oh bunny, you’re so wet,’ he sighed, his cock throbbing. he was so close…

you mewled as he removed your panties, fingers gently prying them off of you and leaving them to hang at your ankles. you kicked them off, but were left sighing as he ceased his touch for a moment.

his cock twitched in your grip, and he let out a loud, rough groan, spurts of cum coming from the tip of his cock. you blushed, watching as he came onto your hand, and his stomach. he’d have to wash his uniform tonight, because it was stained with the pearly ropes.

sweat beaded at his forehead, but he didn’t let the waves of his own pleasure distract from what he wanted most, which was to feel you. you spread your legs, and he sighed at the sight of your glistening cunt.

he ran one finger over your folds, and you clutched at the bedsheets, attempting to ignore how sensitive you already were. his thumb pressed against your clit, and you couldn’t stifle your moan this time, a feeling of warmth shooting across your body. you wanted more, and ground into the feeling of his thumb running circles against the sensitive spot.

‘so wet for me, aren’t you?’ he muttered, his long fingers edging further down your folds.

‘feels so… good,’ you huffed, eyes fluttering shut with bliss. of course you were already lingering on the edge of your own pleasure—he doubted you’d ever even touched yourself before.

he eased a finger into your hole; feeling your slick walls take it in, but only barely. you were so fucking tight, and he watched as you winced a little at the feeling. it only hurt for a second, but you were so wet that you were longing for more.

‘oh please,’ you gasped, feeling him arch his finger while his thumb began to vary its ministrations against your clit.

‘gonna cum for me, bunny?’ he cooed, moving his thumb up and down, watching as your thighs began to tremble.

the heat was unbearable now, and when he added another finger, stretching you out, you felt your whole body begin to tingle with the beginning of your release.

‘mhm!’ you cried out, exasperated from his touch.

you gushed around his fingers, though he continued to rub his thumb against your clit, and arch his fingers inside of you, mesmerised by the wetness coating them. your breath hitched, and you came completely undone, burning and trembling as he made you cum.

he felt his cock harden again at the sight of you coming around his fingers, and as he removed them from your hole, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

coriolanus pushed you back into the bed, cock pressing against your thighs. your head swam with the excess of your desire, but you surrendered yourself to him, longing to feel him buried deep inside of you.

he guided just the tip towards your hole, and ran it teasingly through the soaking folds of your cunt. you mewled, and clutched at his back in an attempt to get him to push into you. deciding he was greedy, he pressed the tip into you, and you let out a shocked groan.

it hurt—he was big, but you hadn’t expected it to make you tingle so much. you bit back a few tears, and let him put the rest of the tip in. you were so tight, he couldn’t believe it. if you’d felt tight around his fingers, this was a whole new sensation. you were clenching around his cock, and he had barely so much as the head of it inside you.

‘too big,’ you gasped, feeling him ease his cock further in. it stung a little, the stretch slightly unpleasant. but you wanted him so bad. ‘it hurts!’

‘poor bunny,’ he mused, stroking your cheek. ‘you gotta learn to take it, like a good girl. i know you want it, bunny.’

you did, you wanted it so bad. even though it hurt, you felt your stomach knot tightly as it did when he’d rubbed your clit. he began to buck his hips, grunting at the tightness of your cunt. your walls stretched around his big cock, taking him in as best they could, slick with want and need.

‘fuck, you’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned as thrust inside of you.

more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. he watched as you tried to fight off the feelings of pain, surrendering yourself to the pleasant feeling of fullness and his throbbing cock inside of you. he wanted nothing more than to pound into you, make you scream his name as he filled you up, but you were too delicate. he’d have to wait until you were ready, and you were special, anyways. a pretty doll just for him.

‘oh,’ you gasped as he fucked himself deeper, reaching a new angle inside of you.

the sound of your slick mingling with the slapping of his balls echoed against the walls of your room, and you clutched at his back. your desire began to brim again, edging its way up your thighs and deep into the pit of your stomach. coriolanus could hardly contain himself, you fit around him so perfectly, slick walls coating his cock as he thrust in and out.

‘fuck bunny, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ he admitted haggardly. he attempted to control his urges, but you were just so tight. what was stopping him from coming in you right then and there?

‘need you,’ you mumbled as he rutted against your hips, thrusts growing more desperate.

he moved one hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit, fingers deftly helping to unfurl the ache inside of you. you sputtered at the sensation, head spinning as he fucked you into the mattress.

he was so close, the clenching of your walls sending the blood straight to his head. he let out a final grunt, and slowed his thrusts, and felt himself come undone. he ground his cock into you, letting the thick spurts of his cum coat your walls. he came a lot, more than he’d ever done before, balls draining with what felt like every last drop.

he still continued to fuck up into you, wanting you to finish around him before he pulled out. your legs began to tremble, the feeling of his cum too much to handle, and you let out a sweet cry.

‘so good,’ you pressed your lips together, coming undone around his dock.

coriolanus pulled out, cock coated in a milky ring of your spend, his tip still red and angry from use. your body tingled, and you felt his cum trickling down between your legs. he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked, all fucked out for him, drunk on his cock.

he’d turned such a pretty innocent thing into a stupid whore, who could barely form a sentence without sighing from the excess of her pleasure.

he wondered how long he’d have to wait to go another round, and whether or not you’d let him. but you’d been so good to him that night, doing exactly what he told you and coming for him not once, but twice.

‘such a good girl for me, bunny,’ he mused, stroking your thigh. ‘and so innocent.’

[whatislovevavy]

Vending Machine Glow on Route 79

Jake Seresin x afab!reader

WC: 2.1k

Masterlist

Summary: Before leaving for college, you and Jake say goodbye in more ways than one on the last night of your cruel summer. 

Warnings: swearing smut (18+), angst, lots of feelings, friends to lovers to almost strangers, both reader and Jake are 18 and over.

AN: This fic is heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s Cruel Summer. It’s been on my mind for a few months and I finally had the time and creativity to write it :) I hope you guys enjoy :)

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

These characters are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?”  

You said as you stared at the ceiling, laying on the cheap motel mattress with Jake, bare beneath the sheets. You didn’t have to ask him what time. You were mentally counting down the seconds till your best friend was leaving you. 

Your first love was leaving you. 

Jake was set to leave for Annapolis in the morning, and you were set for UT Austin in the Fall for journalism. 

“7 AM.” 

His tone lacked the usual joy and cockiness he’d started to develop in highschool. He gently reached out for your hand, running his calloused thumb along the back of it. You gently reached out to cuddle into his side. 

“I’m going to miss you.” 

Your voice choked in your throat, shifting your gaze to Jake Seresin, the farm boy next door who you’d known since you could run. The boy you used to sneak out into the fields and woods to look for frogs and snakes with. The once lanky, awkward teenage boy with braces who used knock on your screen door unannounced, now filled out his highschool football and baseball jersey and had girls batting their eyes at him. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Mooney.”

The nickname always made you smile. One summer during 8th grade, you and Jake had tried to make moonshine in the back of the Seresin farmhouse from some of the ripe strawberries on your family's farm. To say the least, you were far from successful and were both grounded for 2 months. 

But it was one of your most cherished memories with Jake. That, and sneaking off with each of your horses to go swimming in dagger lake in the hot summer months during chore time. The cherished nickname now just made the tears harder to hold back.

“Hey,” Jake soothed, “I’m here, Mooney, I'm here. I'm right here with you.” Your glassy eyes peaked up, meeting his kind, soothing ones. The pad of his thumb gently wiped away your tears. 

You sighed as he gently pulled your lips in for a soft, loving kiss. His hands clutched at your bare hips, rolling you underneath him. He sighed as your nails gently caressed and scratched at his neck and back of his head.

You tried to memorize the way his plush lips felt against your own. After all, you didn't know when you would get to feel them again. 

Jake didn't hurry with his efforts as he clutched at and caressed the slopes and edges of your body he'd always loved. 

Your soft sighs spurred him on, lathing kisses at your neck down to your breasts and areolas, your nipples taut from the friction against Jake's chest and the steady flow of chilled air from the humming AC unit in the corner.

Soft moans left your lips as he gently teased two fingers at your entrance, savoring the feeling of your silken walls around his welcomed digits. Eyes fluttering closed, fingers weaving into his hair as he gently, lovingly worked you towards your release, letting his calloused fingertips run along that extraordinary little spot that had you seeing the familiar, pretty shade of green behind your eyelids. 

He let you come down from your high, littering your lips and neck with tender kisses, like he was trying to memorize the way your skin felt against him. 

You clutched your nails into the back of his neck and flexed shoulders as he eased his cock between your smooth, soft folds, like the love-worn pages of a book that Jake couldn't get enough of. 

“Jake.”

Your sighs made his heart clench and belly stir. 

His hips moving in slow tandem with your own. Each clench of your plush walls made him moan softly, his nose running along the column of your neck, almost as if trying to memorize the soft smell of strawberries that always followed you. 

His hips moved in an uneven tempo, his release tailing your own. The soft whimpers and sighs leaving your perfectly parted lips made it more difficult to keep his pace in check. 

Your hips sputtered underneath him, thighs twitching around his lean waist. His lips crashed against yours as he felt you clutch desperately at his waist and shoulders, your release coming into the world with a cry of his name and a shudder. 

His release followed suit; his body, soul and mind lost in the feeling of you. 

Two people trying to make it in this world, intertwined as one. 

He let his forehead softly rest against your own, breaths weaving together against the cheap sheets of the motel. 

You pouted when he untangled himself from you, turning on the golden light of the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Softly smiling as he gently, lovingly wiped at your tender folds.

He always took care of you after your times together. 

But this time felt different. Off. 

The way he looked at you. He acted as if it was the last time he was going to. Like he was saying goodbye with each tender, soft touch of your body and lips. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to keep your bubbling anxiety at bay. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that ?”

His eyes didn't meet yours, instead focusing on the warm feeling of the washcloth on his palm as he continued to gently rub at your inner thighs. 

Your hand stalled his movements. 

“Jake?”

His eyes met yours. But they weren't bright or as mirthful as they had always been; they were glassy and distant.

Your heart beat was quickening by the second. 

“Please talk to me.” 

His heart clenched at your plea. He knew this was going to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever have to do in his life. 

A beat of tense silence passed. 

You swallowed, trying to lighten your tone. “you're acting like this is goodbye…forever.”

He swallowed, feeling tears brimming. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Mooney.” He said it so softly that if you were anywhere else, you most likely wouldn't have heard him. 

Your heart stopped and increased in density by a thousand fold. The once lively organ now consuming the life force of everything within its vicinity, your fingertips tingling. 

“I just- with the Navy and everything, and you know how my dad is. I can't come back.” His desperate tone tried to plea a winning case for why this couldn't work. 

“And long distance doesn't work out for a lot of people.” He said softly, tears falling freely now. 

Your lip quivered, body retracting from his once welcoming, warm touch. 

“So you don’t even want to try?” 

The mix of anger and sadness felt so foreign being made from something Jake did. 

He put his face in his hands, shaking it. “I don’t know, Mooney. I just don’t know.” 

You watched with parted lips, trying to find the words to say with the tears budding in your eyes like the strawberry bushes Jake would help you tend to on your family’s farm. 

“It shouldn't be this hard for you to decide what you want with me!” You borderline shouted, frustration mixing with agony like a potent toxin in your soul.

"I thought you loved me?" your wounded, defeated tone made Jake's heart clench. If you weren't so devastated, you would have caught the flinch from the boy in front of you. You knew Jake wanted to be a pilot, more than anything in the world.

But you didn’t think it would cost what you had with him. 

“I need some air, I hope you find what you're looking for because clearly you aren't going to find it with me,” you rasped out, voice thick with emotion, staggering to your feet, finding your clothes littered on the floor, and hastily putting them on.

You half expected the boy that learned to have a response for anything to say something. Anything. 

Stay.

I’m scared, too.

I love you. 

We can figure this out, together. 

But he remained silent as you slammed the door closed behind you; pleading, teary eyes following your body leave behind the cheap wooden door. He didn't even try to stop you. You hurried down the steps to the first level, finding a quiet area near the vending machines and their inviting glow, under the full moon and stars. 

You leaned against the side of the machine, looking at all the near expired, wrapped goodies inside. All the goodies that Jake would have gladly shared with you. Now you weren’t so sure they meant anything. The familiar bubble of anguish and frustration became too much. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

And so you cried. 

You cried for the impending loss of the boy down the dirt road. You cried for the unfairness of your too separate dreams and what would feel like a million miles separating the two of you. You cried for the stark differences in both of your lives that made itself into a wedge between you both. 

But most of all, you cried for the trying times that he didn’t want to try to fight for. 

The ring of the bell above the glass door barely announced your presence to the packed bar. You had needed a break after unpacking the last box in your new home, and if you were going to be living in America’s Finest City, you should at least try to make some new friends. Afterall, you started work at the San Diego Tribune on Monday.

You drew your attention from the packed bar to the woman taking your order at the bar top, with her kind hazel, green eyes and shoulder length brunette hair. She couldn’t have been a day after 40. 

“A rum and coke, please?”

She gave you a nod and kind smile before turning to prepare your drink. Rum and Cokes became your go to during college. Nobody sold strawberry moonshine where you settled.

It wouldn’t taste the same anyway. 

Your eyes drew to the sea of people near the back deck and around the pool tables. The sea of beige military uniforms made your lip quirk. 

Did he ever make it to flight school?

Your chest tightened at the memory of how things ended, and the realization that you hadn’t spoken in almost 15 years. Not since he was set to leave for Annapolis; you didn't show up to see him off, watching his dusty, red truck leave you as he drove away on the dirt road of his family’s ranch from your bedroom window.  The last remnant of him evaporating into the dust his tires kicked up as he left. 

Memories of a simpler time swirled in your mind like the drink in your hand. 

Your ears perked up at the steady bass playing through the speakers. 

Foghat’s "Slow Ride".

Memories of laughter and secret kisses with the farmboy down the road, whose dreams were too big for Texas. 

Too big for you. 

Your lip quirked into a frown as you sighed, taking a drink, eyes drifting to the jukebox in the corner of the bar. A well-built man leaned against it, obviously hitting on the girl with the miniskirt and tank top to his left. From where you sat, you could only make out the blush on the girl’s cheeks, not the identity of the man behind the flirtations. He looked handsome; his strong shoulders, buzzed brunette blond hair at the base of his neck. 

Jake’s hair used to gleam the same way. 

You took a drink from your glass just as the man turned around. To walk to the bar top with the girl in tow. The burning liquid stalling in your throat, your stomach clenching as his features registered. He looked older now, brow lines evident. Definitely taller and more well built than when you saw him leave. He hadn't lost that charming smile, or his handsome green eyes, or the small cluster of freckles on his neck line. Your lip quirked with a wave of intense nostalgia. 

The girl that looked like she was in her mid to late twenties settled at the bar top, separating you from the man that you hadn’t seen or touched since the motel on route 79.

His eyes focused on her, giving her the same dimple-lidden smile you loved seeing in the hayloft during thunderstorms when you both wanted to get away from your families. 

She turned towards the bartender to place her drink order. His gaze flitted from hers to Penny’s. His eyes do a double take on yours. 

His posture straightened, lips parting, eyes staying on yours. Your eyes were held in a trance, placing your glass on the bar top. Before you had time to say anything, years of memories and missed memories took control.  

“Mooney?”

@marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981 @a-beaverhausen @withahappyrefrain @hangmans-wingman @callmemana @joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @entertainmentgirl80 @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @teacupsandtopgun @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath-deactivated202410 @h-ngm-ns @emma8895eb @djs8891 @novastories @urmom-999 @taytaylala12 @zombicupcake3 @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30 @shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @gigisimsonmars @slippinginto-theairwaves @phoenix-rising-starbird-one

[hoaxghost]

(Mouthwashing)

I think the overall significance of mouthwash in the story is relatively low, outside of Swansea's use of it, but that makes metatextual sense. After all, it wasn't just useless as a disinfectant -- that amount of sugar content would make Dragon's Breath useless as a mouthwash. That's what these people are sent on a year long journey to export -- worthless, functionless dollar store shelf filler better used for a moonshiner's chaser than its actual purpose.

Ooo- like it's the reason for their entire expedition but it's nothing more than cheap, low grade dental hygiene care that they're risking their whole lives around.

Killing 99.99% of bacteria just like how Pony Express is axing 99% of their employees with it's shut down and turn to automation. It's clear that each member of the team is nothing more than easily replaced (and discarded) collateral. It's not even guaranteed that the ship will even be found, or that the company will bother about retrieving it anyway.

I suppose the mouthwash itself has such a high amount of sugar to keep it preserved too- only something that horridly sweet could last for that long of a travel time in space. A useless mission all for nothing...

[throwaway-yandere]

19th Century YANDERE!WANDERER x F!Reader idea:

You were once a well-liked farmer in a remote village. Despite owning a small library of your own, which was a massive social symbol of wealth at the time, you experienced no discrimination from both the rich and the poor. Each side treated you with respect for you grew the finest of fruits and vegetables at such a cheap price. Go any lower, and they'd think you were positively doing charity work. Every poor man and noble maids would line up each morning for a chance to buy "Lady (Y/n)'s produce".

However, you faced your peaceful life's turning point when a hooded young man opted to cut the line. With grace, you approached him and politely told him to follow the rules. You see, if he cannot respect others, how can he respect the food you've grown with such kindness and care?

That's when WANDERER's interest piqued. He understood little of the North's customs. Where he's from— most transactions can be accelerated with the help of a Fixer. When (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at the sight of his bribery, he understood that he royally messed up. He didn't apologize, but he admitted that he was wrong and left the marketplace. But that was when he knew, there might finally be a place for him after all the traveling he had done.

If the village thought your prices were near charitable, your approach to befriending the WANDERER certainly was saint-like behavior. You visited his inn and presented him with a bread basket. With a hearty laugh, you uttered hopes that you were not bothering him as you watched him fix his bed-head. The dark-haired man could only watch perplexed as you motioned to the chair and asked to sit down. You asked for his name, he didn't comply. You asked if you could call him "Iris", just like how you'd assign flower petnames to close friends, and he only replied with a morning grunt and a pinkish hue on his cheeks.

Iris Ensata, in the royal gardens, meant "a gentle heart". Whether you knew floral languages or not, each time you called him by that name, his chest tightens as though he has one.

He's grown fond of your conversations, but his travels cannot cease. WANDERER's goal had always been to find an ancient artifact his mother preached. Attaining it meant he would be the next to rule the land, for he was secretly the Crown Prince. He was vague whenever he talked about his troubles to you, but you instantly related to his musings. You yourself managed the farm because you wanted to please your father. He saw you as a lesser human, and decided that to prove your worth, you needed to manage your own small "empire". His mother was the same. Both of you were tested, and you are now standing on the same crossroad. To be a slave to a kin's whims, or to carve your own path? He had yet to decide that for himself...

Hence, when stress had taken its toll, he pulls out his map to find his way back to you. Moonshines later, he reached the point where he no longer required one. His soul knew where you were. Where home was. Stopping by the village just to see you was always a lull before the storm. And he was incredibly excited to tell you that his adventure is now finished, and the crown now rests on his head.

But what if he was too late to salvage what was left of such a natural disaster? What if the lull was eerie? What if the lull was a silent void he could never get rid off?

In his return, he found not a storm, but a rain of fire. There, at the center of the square, was you. The smell of singed hair defiled his senses, and your face burned in his mind. He saw you everytime he closed his eyes.

"BURN THE WITCH!!! BURN THE WITCH!!!"

The mob drags on. And on. And on. The chant does not stop. He stands there, petrified.

When only the lull remains, he pulled down his hood and looked over to the stake you once stood.

"It's just ashes..." He muttered. "Nothing left but a-ashes..."

He chuckled, humorless. His voice was once a small crackling sound, like the fire that took you, until it erupted into a full blown laughter. His eyes were wide, and his grip on both your ashes and the earth you once tended to and loved made his knuckles white. The WANDERER— no, The CROWN PRINCE laughed hard in his mind, but that was not what the townsfolk heard.

What they heard was the alarming anguished screams of a lover who had everything he had stolen away.

He will be merciful, for he knew you still loved your friends and neighbors even when they had tied and burnt you to crisps. He will make their deaths brief. As brief as his soldiers could make this whole village burn and purged off all its filth.

Maybe when the spring comes back, so too will you return. Maybe once he had purged off all the filth in this village's wreckage, he'll find his home.

But until then, there is no longer any sense of gentleness in his own heart.

[4noirre]

— WHEN THE PARTY’S OVER

xavier thorpe x reader

reader is a witch!

— Xavier Thorpe found himself standing in the corner of Calcifer Hall where the infamous on campus parties held by the one and only Gargoyle — Ajax Petropolus had always taken place. Party life was no longer the one for him after his messy breakup with the resident queen bee herself.

Hand holding onto the red solo cup, Xavier found his eyes gradually glancing towards one of Nevermore’s certified royalty, You. There you were underneath the rainbow LED lights dancing to a generic party song along side Enid Sinclair — the extrovert of all extroverts.

As the party died down you found yourself making your way towards the balcony. Moonshine above you as u sat on the stone ledge, opening a can of dollar store beer for yourself. “Now what is Salem’s princess doing alone out here? Oh my god, and she’s drinking cheap beer too?” , Xavier faked gasped. “Please, cheap beer happens to be good beer.” , you laughed out shifting to the side to allow space for him to sit.

“So.. what brings you out here magic man?” , you smiled and said out to him. “Oh, Enid vomited on Wednesday and I would rather die than smell the odour of pure gluttony.” gagged the boy and you laughed. God your laugh, to Xavier, hearing u speak and even laugh makes him feel euphoric. Everyday he told the stars that it should’ve been you who he met first instead of that cunning siren.

The both of you now sitting in silence under nothing but the dim starry night with muffled Pitbull songs in the background from the party. “I heard you liked arts, is that right Xavier?” , you began. “I do, it makes me get over things.” the boy replied. “Can i see your art?”, you replied eagerly as Xavier pulled out a small sketchbook from the back pockets of his jeans, flipping through it revealing all of his various sketches from lakes, flowers and animals.

In an instance a piece of paper flew out, it was all too familiar — it was you. “Wait I can explain” , he panicked, but instead a finger flew to his mouth asking him to shush. “This is so cute! Does magic man have a crush on me or what?” you giggled out as he shot a glare. “Let me do u a favour Xavier.” and in an instance your lips were on his gently as you laughed out “i like you too you know.”

A pair of lovers on top of the balcony’s ledge indulging themselves into what was called the purest form of love.

aaa i hope you enjoyed ! make sure to take care everyone

accepting requests for wednesday — netflix series 🪄 feel free to send anything in!

*not proofread

[nonny-nonny-anon]

[I can't handle whiskey too, but vodka and sprite is good for me. No shots though, not after last time . . . I don't know how you can even drink cocktails, they just have to much flavour for me

Long Islands areee, I had three and I was drunk lmao. For some reason my body let's me drink them so I can't complain lol

Lolol, mixes are a lifesaver. I used to be able to drink straight but now I need to have something that covers the taste of alcohol otherwise I'm puking lmao. I'm stuck with Mike's Hard Lemonade, Long Islands, Cider, and Truly. I wanted to drink Habusake, but that shit really fucks you up, one shot can fade you if you're not careful]

the closest thing i'll ever get to wine is a cherry flavored ICE drink

[skbeaumont]

"I Remember Everything" | Joel x Reader

Part 2 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: I Remember Everything, Zach Bryan ft. Kacey Musgraves Summary: Ten years after outbreak day, you and Joel try to find a way to forget. In the process he finds things to remember, too Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, references to sex, alcohol and drugs, sex but not explicit, trauma, grief, just expect emotional damage basically Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This ended up being both very angsty and quite sweet. Once again it was written with lyrics from the song pulled into the prose, so do listen as you read. If you've got any song recommendations for this series, let me know!

You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose Strange words come on out Of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke Pictures and passin' time You only smile like that when you're drinking I wish I didn't, but I do Remember every moment on the nights with you You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

The bar is crowded when you enter. Heaving with writhing bodies, hot in a way that has your shirt sticking to your back within moments of entering, a hazy, sharp tang in the back of your nose, a mix of moonshine and sweat.

Ten years today since outbreak day, and it seems everyone in the QZ is in here to forget.

Technically, there aren’t supposed to be any bars in the QZ, but as you squeeze between the crowds you spot two women you know to be FEDRA officers. It’s amazing what they’ll turn a blind eye to when it benefits them. One of the women looks pretty far gone already, leaning against the other with a placid, washed out grin on her face. The moonshine here is cheap, strong, and a poor imitation of anything that would have been served in a bar ten years ago.

You order two double whiskeys, watch the skinny youth behind the bar pour it out into a chipped mug, take it from him and hand over a creased, dog-eared ration card. A small price to pay for an evening of forgetting. You down the first double at the bar, then turn and push yourself on tiptoes to find an empty table, or a quiet corner to hole up in where you won’t be disturbed.

Instead, you find your gaze passing over a familiar figure at the back of the room. Joel’s recognisable even from behind – broader than anyone else in the room, the sloping lines of his shoulders pressing against the frayed seams of the denim shirt he’s wearing. It’s been a few months since you last saw him. You’re not sure where he’s been, maybe off on his smuggling runs; the two of you have never really kept a consistent line of conversation, your meetings generally consisting of a quick catch up and then a long, slow evening using each other to try to forget the hell of life in the QZ and your respective pasts. Unhealthy, probably, but it works for a few hours.

Joel turns where he’s stood and the dim lights in the bar illuminate the side of his face, the strong line of his jaw. He’s wearing a lopsided half-smile, leaning against a shelving unit filled with bottles, talking to a woman with dark hair. He’s clearly drunk: he only smiles like that when he’s drunk. It’s an impressive feat, considering how much you know he drinks on any normal day.

You’re still watching him, sipping your own drink, when he turns his head, eyes locking with yours. You don’t look away. The buzz of the whiskey is starting to sink through you, warm and familiar, and Joel’s eyes are just as intoxicating.

It’s always the same. There’s something about him that has you gravitating to him. It’s attraction, certainly, but it’s deeper than that. There’s so much about Joel you don’t know, so many unanswered questions and unexplained mysteries. But you know he’s like you. You know he’s lost people. You know he’s broken, and lonely, and so fucking angry that it scares him sometimes.

Joel watches you down the rest of your whiskey, eyes flicking to your lips as you lick a stray drop. He’s drunk, far drunker than he should be considering he has to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning for sewer duty.

He only got back into the QZ early this morning, spent rest of the day trying as best he could to get some sleep without resorting to rotgut whiskey to ease his mind. A lost cause, of course. He hasn’t slept without some kind of pill or booze in ten years. Eight hours in and he’d given it up as a bad job, downed a few bottles of home-brewed cider and headed to this hot, loud bar, hoping to distract himself from the date and all that its memory brings.

He hadn’t expected you to be here, and something uncomfortably like gladness settles in his chest as he watches you make your way towards him. All day he’s been on edge, wound up so tight he’s felt like something in him is going to snap, but the sight of you has it retreating, loosening his shoulders more than the piss-poor whiskey has.

He wonders for a moment what this thing you have – this relationship that isn’t a relationship, this love story that definitely isn’t a love story, just a way to forget for a while – would be like if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Would he sing you love songs, buy you flowers, take you to the beach and let your sand-covered hair blow into his face on the drive home?

Ten years since outbreak day, and he’s mostly wondering if you’ll help him forget in a way that the booze and pills he’s been knocking back since this afternoon haven’t managed to yet. Two whiskeys in, and you’re wondering if he’ll ease your mind like the liquor’s eased your tight muscles.

It’s this that carries you both out into the alley behind the bar, has him pressing you into the rough brick wall, hands roaming your body like you’re a route he’s trying to memorise so he can sneak back when the curfew falls. His mouth is hot on yours, his breath tinged with booze and counterfeit cigarettes.

It’s easy where it shouldn’t be; easy to let him lead you through the back streets to his apartment, easy to let yourself fall inside, easy to ignore the empty cider bottles that litter the apartment, the pill bags and loose cigarettes.

The sex is unrushed – it could be called romantic, if you were both other people, if it you weren’t both doing it to forget. The memories of ten years ago retreat for a while as he undresses you; the pain eases as he lays you back, slots himself between your legs and presses himself into you.

The movement of it is calming, familiar. Joel’s strong back under your hands, his muscles shifting and tensing as he thrusts into you, the harshness of his breath at your ear. He’s quiet, usually, hardly lets himself make a sound when he’s inside you, and then leaves before you’ve had chance say goodbye. Tonight, though, he doesn’t. When you’ve finished he rolls himself off of you and pulls you to his chest, wraps a strong arm around your waist and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, and the words are so strange that you freeze beneath him, twist back so that you can look at him, see the truth of it on his face.

His eyes are dark in the half-light of the apartment, hazy with alcohol and something else, but they’re serious, his eyebrows furrowed, the creases that have started to deepen over the time you’ve known him lining his forehead.

Because the thing is, you make him forget. But when he’s with you he remembers, too. He remembers what happiness can feel like, the way that joy can take root in your chest and spread into something ethereal, something that Joel Miller doesn’t deserve to feel, hasn’t felt since the world ended ten years ago. He remembers every moment on the nights with you.

He wishes he didn't, but he does.

[manorpunk]

Duke Austin Throckmorton: landowner, warlord, and dedicated vassal of the Chili King, a neo-feudalist restaurant chain. If the party is polite to him, he will let them stay as guests. If the party is aggressive, he will threaten to bring out his 'steed' (a rusty but functional T-54 tank).

Rhonda Rotten: Fujoshi brigand. She and her handful of bisexual boyfriend minions have set up an unlicensed 'toll booth' somewhere along the Route 66 pilgrimage trail. Insists she's not a Harley Quinn knockoff but she kind of is. If the party has any men, she will let them pass if they make out yaoi style for her.

Liquor & Gusto: hulking Mad Max style wasteland goons driving a rust-bucket van covered in airbrushed wizard decals. They will only attack the party if they appear nonthreatening and/or are carrying valuables. Otherwise, they will attempt to sell your party some ditch weed and moonshine.

GLN Solar Farm # 187: A large and seemingly unoccupied solar farm owned and operated by the Global Logistics Network. Surveillance drones circle overhead. If the party lingers, they will be confronted by a patrol of SUM troops (short for Surplus Unmarried Men, they're the cheap off-brand global paramilitary force used when you want to guard something but you wouldn't be that sad if something happened to it).

Inexplicable Gas Station: A gas station with electricity and running water despite being in the middle of nowhere with no visible infrastructure around it. The shelves are always stocked with a variety of cheap provisions (prepackaged food, paper products, small tools, etc). The party can save their game at this location.

[theleastprofessionalchef]

Ah jeez, I started making this post end of May and saved it as a draft so I could come back with the recipe, and fully forgot to do that for uh. Yeah. A long time. I've since made a few more batches of successful mead, and have a couple more fermenting right now! I'll reblog with pics of them later.

Well! better late than never. Leaving what I'd written initially unchanged, so-

-

Two months apart - start and end - my first successful batch of mead! I've tried a handful of times over the years, but had an unfortunate habit of doing... SOMETHING wrong each time that resulted in lightly sweetened cleaning alcohol 😅

But finally, a success! Real mead! Sweet, but not too sweet, and boozy enough without being straight up moonshine

Recipe:

Roughly three pounds of honey

3? 4? Of those little mandarin oranges, quartered

1 packet ale yeast, I used this

Various whole mulling spices, I used a stick of cinnamon and a few cloves this time, but I've also tossed in cardamom pods and anise occasionally, maybe a couple peppercorns. Go wild

So much filtered/distilled water. So much. Like two gallons?

I'll be real folks, I used a cheap shitty online guide that I don't remember the link for, that said it was a good basic way to learn how to make garbage mead and that any brewer worth their salt would cringe at. It is also coincidentally the same guide I used years ago in the aforementioned cleaning alcohol incident; I haven't changed what I used or did, so I honestly don't know why that came out bad and this good. Shrugs! Yeast can't read.

Dissolve the honey in warm/hot water. Not boiling- you don't want to kill the yeast when you add it in. Think a nice, warm shower. Stir it well, add the oranges and spices, and mix in the yeast until also dissolved.

Load it all up into a large glass container like the one pictured. I ordered a carboy online for this, which is the 'proper' thing to use, but you can honestly get away with an old milk jug you've thoroughly cleaned and sanitized, if you again, don't care about it being the highest quality. Carboys come with the fermentation/filtration Thing on it to let gases out and nothing in (the little doohicky plugged into the top of the lid) but you can also get away with stretching the mouth of a balloon over where the lid would go and poke a teensy hole in it with a needle. The goal is to let the gases that build up during fermentation escape the container, but not to let outside air in.

Fill the container the rest of the way up with water, but leave a couple inches of space on top. This thang's gonna bubble like crazy once the yeast start feeding, and you don't want it to overflow and make a mess of your cupboard.

Put it in a dark, cool space, and wait a few days!

It'll bubble a lot those first days; DON'T mess with it. Leave her be. Let her have her hot girl summer. After a few days, maybe a week, it'll calm down a bit; now you can top off the water supply.

Fast forward uhhhh two months or so, and it's done! There's a more legit way to know for sure when it's done that involves watching the tiny bubbles that form near the top as part of the fermentation process, and figuring out when they'll stop, but I'm impatient and don't know jack and am here for a good time not a long time.

Enjoy mead! And maybe do some better research than I did if you want something fancy.

OH AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT STIR IT WHEN YOU GO TO DRINK THE FINISHED STUFF

You'll want to scoop the fruits and spices off the top and then siphon it off into another container, or do what we did and simply ladle it off the top (because on a ship of 10-13 sailors, 1 1/2-2 gallons of mead won't last longer than an off day), and NOT drink the detritus off the bottom. You can kinda see it in the picture above. It is not like unfiltered apple cider. That stuff tastes gnarly.

Do not shake the mead before drinking.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

i can only support from the shadows but as an SA survivor please DO write about joel killing your rapists it would cure me

LETS GOOOO SA survivors eating good tn!!!! we making it out the rape kit with this one 🥵🥵🥵

warning: descriptions of sexual assault, rape kits, non-consensual drugging, police malpractice/incompetence, victim-blaming, arson, and spanking. one single use of the f slur for shits and giggles. reader is male and joel’s roommate. reader’s assailant is male.

"So, the next morning I..."

You sniffled as you relayed your trauma to Joel. He wondered why you'd tensed up anytime anyone even uttered the word 'FEDRA'. You’d said it was a bad experience. He’d said that doesn’t really narrow it down much, so you gave him the full story.

“I got the rape-“ You cleared your throat, that word burning your vocal cords like an acid, “got the rape kit done at the clinic… And I asked for a drug test, so that I’d… that I could prove he slipped me something… Nurse was good, she was nice… She gave me the release of evidence form to give to FEDRA’s law enforcement precinct… but they didn’t… they didn’t take it…”

“What?” Joel’s face was contorted in shock, then a scowl of disgust and rage on your behalf. “The hell you mean they didn’t take it?”

“They didn’t believe me. Said it was my *sniff*… my f-f-fault for meeting up with him in the first place…” You had your eyes down, staring off into space, speaking more to Joel’s shoes than to his face. You couldn’t bear to look at him right now. You just know it’d make you burst into tears, tears that you were struggling so hard to contain. “I told them he drugged me… and they said… ‘H-How do I know you didn’t take the drugs before you got there?’”

“Fucking pigs…” Joel grumbled, “…so they just put the blame on you and let him get away with it?”

You nodded. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your tears flooded the dam, spilling down your cheeks and onto the floorboards with one lone loud sob. Your hands clamped over your mouth, a makeshift plug for the vocal leak. Your body convulsed with sorrow.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay… You’re okay, bud…” Joel cooed as he took you in his arms, squeezing you tight enough for the facade to pop and your emotions to rush out in full. He held you to his chest and let you scream-cry into his clothes. You didn’t have to look at him, you could just let it out, eyes closed, your face buried in his flannel shirt. “It’s okay, little man. I’m here. I’m here.” He stroked your hair to calm you down, and sighed “We’re gonna make this right, you ‘n’ me…”

“H-How?”

How indeed. Joel’s eyes scanned the room for an answer, until they landed on his lackluster liquor cabinet. 2 shelves, on top: one nice bottle of scotch, about 3/4ths of the way full; on the bottom, about 12 cheap-shit bottles of moonshine. He broke the hug, hustled over to the shelves, and grabbed 4 bottles. He set them on the kitchen table, but not before peeling off the ratty-ass tablecloth that sat atop it. He grabbed it by one of its pre-existing rips, tore it into strips, and plugged the bottles with the cloth. Without even looking back over his shoulder, he commanded of you the following:

“Go grab your lighter.”

—

Thank god you’d had your panic attack when it was dark outside. There were only a couple of hogs working the night shift at the Boston QZ North Pigpen Precinct by the time you two rolled up to bike lock the doors. You’d split up to take the back entrance, while Joel hit it from the front. Then, you met around the side of the building, crouching under a window. He was holding a brick, and you were digging 2 molotovs out of a backpack.

“Alright. Now you’re gonna light ‘em, then I break the window. You throw ‘em in, and we fuckin’ run ‘til I say we can stop. You got that?”

How Joel managed to look so hot even in a ski mask was beyond human understanding. No one’s ever cared this much for you, ever been willing to risk so much for you, and who knew that arson was such an aphrodisiac? You’d been gazing faggily into his eyes, thinking about how hard you were gonna suck his dick after this. It’s the least you could do for him. You were processing such a vivid picture of the rough and nasty catharsis-fucking that you were due later, it was using up all your mental bandwidth. Therefore, his question took some time to buffer. “…What? Oh! Yeah, yup, got it. Sorry.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then tell me what we’re gonna do.”

“I light the bottles, brick goes through the window, bottles go through the window, and we run.”

Joel was actually pleasantly surprised that you were listening. “Okay, good.” He gestured to your hand holding the lighter. “Go on, do it, light ‘em up.”

One flick of the lighter, two burning strips of fabric, and three throws later, Joel grabbed you by the wrist and bolted down the street with you. No words, no time to think, just a mad fucking dash for a couple blocks or so. Eventually, he stopped you in another dark alley.

“Here’s good… Fuck…” Joel panted, bracing his hand on the nearest wall. “Ah, shit…”

“You good?” you asked.

“Yeah, ‘m fine… Fuckin’ knees,” he huffed, “Don’t get old, kid.”

You snorted, “I, uh… I don’t think that’s up to me.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Joel took one last deep breath, nudged you on the shoulder, “Hey,” and pointed out to the street. “Watch.”

You peered out past the alley, checking the left side first and keeping yourself mostly hidden behind the brick wall. You weren’t even sure where you were supposed to be looking, until-

BOOM!

Your head whipped around to the other side of the alley, where several blocks down, the precinct erupted into flames. A dark cloud of smoke suddenly draped the side of the building like a ceremonial cloth, smelling like incense lit by burning rage. It was prettier than any firework show you could imagine. The flames roared, sizzling away your trauma, your anger, and cauterizing your wounded spirit so that it could finally heal. You took off your ski mask to get a better look.

“Pretty, right?” Joel’s voice sounded from behind you seemingly out of nowhere. It made you jump out of your skin, snapping you out of your daze and into a new one when he peeled off his mask to show off such a gorgeous face. His expression was nurturing, cut with affection, pride, and yet laced with a lethal dose of violence. Yeah, Joel, you’re right. You sure are pretty. That’s definitely what we’re thinking about right now. You were left speechless, and simply nodded.

“Y’alright, kid?”

You nodded again, tripping over all your words as they tumbled out your mouth. “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Thanks- Thank you… Thank you.”

“You remember where he lives?”

“Huh?” You cocked your head in confusion. “Where who lives?”

“Y’know… The guy who actually…” Joel pursed his lips, trying to find the most delicate word for the situation. “…violated you.”

“Oh!” You hopped up with an unexpected enthusiasm. Truth be told, you were so hyped up in the beauty of the blazing pigpen, that you’d forgotten FEDRA was only half the problem. They weren’t even the original offenders; they just shat the bed so badly that they managed to take the heat off your actual rapist. “Yeah! Yeah, I remember… I know where he lives.”

“Good. He’s next. Let’s go.”

—

And then later that night,

when you and Joel were back home, in the privacy of your own apartment, your joint safehaven, naked,

your face smushed into the window,

him inside you, behind you, and slapping your ass,

you moaned like a crazed slut, laughed ‘til you cried, and peered through the glass,

to see two vengeful fires lighting the skyline.

[meteor752]

The Double Life Kids headcanons 3

A whole lot has happened since the last of these headcanon posts, like, a whole lot. The last post was before the kids even went to the Empires server

So, I thought I’d do one of these again, cause I like making headcanon posts

All the kids except Liana share the same birthday, since Liana spawned as an egg and hatched like, a month later. They wouldn’t usually celebrate their birthdays in anyway, especially after their parents deaths, but when they were separated it became a tradition on both ends to get a cake and blow out their candles, celebrating both them and the ones on the other server, counting down the years until they could see them again. Liana gets a cupcake on hers

Zee (The Lizzie + Skizz child) uses She/He pronouns

Skim uses They/Them

Liana, Jekiv, and Gertrude are girlbosses while Johnny, Novo, and Jassy are boylosers. Wes is somewhere in between

Johnny brought Lily the Warden with him to Empires, and later to Hermitcraft, and then back to Empires. She’s his little sister, and where he goes, she goes

Gertrude bites in her sleep. It’s not always aggressive, usually it’s just lil love bites, but if she’s having a particularly vivid dream or is very stressed out, then she can leave pretty extreme chomps. It’s usually just her pillow or blanket, but sometimes Novo falls victim to her sleep biting. He doesn’t mind

Johnny hates using a bed to sleep, and exclusively sleeps in a hammock.

Through trial and error, and many years of work, Wes, together with Jassy, BDubs and one of his many steeds, managed to overcome his fear of horses. He even got his own, an Ardennais named Dweller

Jekiv also got his own horse, but instead of breeding one he kinda, made one. Virgil was his first successful resurrection, that didn’t just crumble into dust immediately. He’s not very friendly and struggles with obeying him, but he’s (mostly) fully alive which is all that really counts

fWhip was the one who made Liana’s prosthetic, and Doc later made improvements to it so it would hold better and be more comfortable. She has many stickers on it, just for funsies

In the good ending, where the kids all got a happy ending together, Gertrude and Jekiv were finally able to meet their other dads. Jek was thrilled to get another chance to bond with his dad, and Gert was just happy to have her dad back

Jassy also got to reunite with her little brother, Hermes

Johnny is very face blind. It usually isn’t a problem since everyone around him dresses and look very distinctively, but in Empires where everyone he knows wore entirely different outfits in varying aesthetics, he struggled a lot. It just became a habit of the kids that if you wore something different than you usually wore around him, you’d immediately tell him who you are and let him inspect you for a bit

Wes has little control over his volume. It’s kinda strange for him, as he doesn’t really take notice of it himself. When talking to him, he can go from almost whispering to straight up yelling without even realizing it. The rest of the kids are used to it, but it’s usually a surprise to any new people

Liana drinks exclusively expensive whiskey, Jassy loves tequila, Novo is a huge fan of cheap wine, Gertrude likes rum cocktails, Jekiv drinks straight Vodka, Wes sticks to cider, and Johnny makes his own moonshine. Drink nights are a mess

Speaking of which, Liana is the messiest drunk to every messy. She has absolutely zero filter, and for some reason loves to spit out random pretty miserable and dark facts that she’s read about. She tends to clonk out after like two hours though, so it’s just to put up with it

Nobody ever calls Johnny Johnathan. Nobody, except Keralis

Liana and Jassy’s first wedding was less because of love and devotions, and more because they were 14 years into life on the double life server and everyone was fucking miserable, so they thought an event could help cheer people it. It did, but like barely

This is why they remarried, to have an honest chance to express their love for each other. Also an excuse to wear fancy clothes

Jekiv and Wes, in the good ending, got married shortly after reuniting with each other on their new server. It was a very quaint ceremony, but still lovely

Gertrude and Novo are still waiting for the other to propose, and they will just keep on waiting

Also, since this will be posted on the two year anniversary of my first ever post about the kids, I thought I’d share some scrapped ideas and other bts stuff. It’s not a lot since I’m one person using Hero Forge and posting stuff on Tumblr, but there’s some things lol

Jassy was first meant to be a set of twins. It was scrapped for many reasons, one of them being the “one child per couple”, but when I was still working on their first designs I had two wips. The original idea was that one of them was going to take inspiration from some other Naruto character, I think Hinata is who I settled for, and the other was going to have more of a fantasy vibe, to fit the theme of Shrek. This was another reason this was scrapped lol, but for a short while the idea of twin sisters Hinata and Princess Fiona excited

The kids were originally going to go to Hermitcraft. This was before we knew the portal led to Empires, so I was planning of having them enter the portal and exit in Grians base. The main reason this got scrapped was of course that we found out that the portal led to Empires, but also because I knew next to nothing about the Ren The King storyline during season nine, which I was planning to have be a big part of it, with Gertrude and Liana taking center stage as the main characters

To piggy back of the last one, I was planning to make a part two to Logbook, Jekiv’s fic where he wrote journal entries throughout their 20 year stay at the Double Life series. The premise of the sequel was that Liana was to have found the journal before he left it behind, and that she was going to keep on writing in it during their time on Hermitcraft. I even started a rough first draft of it, but as the Hermitcraft storyline was scrapped, so was the journal entry sequel.

Novo and Jekiv are both based off of dnd characters I’ve used in the past, a Bard who can’t play any instruments, and a character who picked up and slowly mastered necromancy halfway through a campaign. It wasn’t planned at the beginning, but it felt fun to pay homage to it, even if I would be the only one who understood the reference.

Some scrapped design ideas is that Liana was gonna be part Vex (Scrapped because it was too messy), Novo was gonna have more of a purple shade in his hair (Scrapped because it didn’t look right, but his signature colour is still purple), Johnny was gonna have a blue fire motif (Scrapped because I like the red fire vibe more, fit him better), Jekiv was gonna have red hair (Scrapped because he just looked exactly like Cleo that way), and Jassy was gonna be entirely green (Scrapped because it looked weird and didn’t fully fit since Joel isn’t green and like no one designs him like that, she does still have some green to her tho).

I mentioned this in a previous post but Liana went through many names before I settled on Liana (The first one I came up with lol, it just stuck). These names (Sharina Ace Sage Aurelia Francesca Octavia Monroe) along with Xelqua and Jellie became her middle names

Not a fucking day goes by where I don’t regret having Jassy constantly change her hairstyle. I painted myself into a corner for that one, and by god am I suffering

And, as a final little thing to celebrate my two year anniversary of not knowing peace because of these fucking kids, I thought I’d show you all a little comparison of the first ever hero forge design I made of the kids, and the most recent one, both to show how they’ve grown but also how I’ve gotten better at using the site lol

Ah, my babies

The funny thing is, that while yes they have changed and evolved over these two years, they canonically have not grown at all lol

Anyways, happy two year anniversary kids

[euphemiaamillais]

district 12!reader and jealous peacekeeper!coryo. him taking her roughly up against the wall of the hob after he catches someone looking at her

cw: 18+//slutshaming//misogyny//rough sex

His girl. That's what you are, he reminds himself, seething when he catches you smiling at a thin, dirt-caked man who bought you a drink. Probably some filthy miner. He watches as you take the drink willingly—some sort of moonshine it seems to be, the staple of District 12—and wash it down with little grace or decorum. Anger churns in his stomach, his fists clenching. How dare you. And when you knew he was looking—you were doing this to spite him.

He watched you for a while longer, how you swing a little on your feet, your eyelashes fluttering. The man makes you laugh. Coriolanus is filled with disgust. Whore. You know exactly how to tease him, and how jealous he was. The man leaned forward to whisper something in your ear, and you giggled. You cast a glance over to Coriolanus, who's lips had twisted into a cruel snarl. You turned away, back to the man, but made an excuse. He could see you mouthing a pathetic sorry, and then slinking away across the room. He'd have to teach you not to disobey him.

When you arrive, his brow is furrowed and his top lip upturned with fury. You give a shy smile, but knew immediately something was amiss.

'Coryo,' You sidle up to him, one hand gripping at his firm bicep. He looks so handsome in his coveralls, dogtags hanging through the slightly unbuttoned shirt, which exposed his well-toned and tan chest. He looked even hotter in his peacekeeper uniform, something you'd made sure he was aware of during your more intimate moments.

'Don't,' He spits, fury blazing in his icy blue eyes. You slink into yourself, taken aback at his outright anger in the Hob.

'Whatever did I do?' You inquire, hands fidgeting nervously. You had to admit, although his anger instilled a little fear in you, it also made the area between your thighs burn and tingle with heat.

'Oh, I think you know,' He rebutted dismissively. You gave a quizzical look, to which he responded with his perpetual glare.

You shook your head, gnawing on your bottom lip nervously. You could feel the cheap moonshine swilling around in your belly—the one the man had brought for you. Had Coryo seen that?

'I really don't know what you're talking about,' You offer sheepishly, and his hand reaches out to grip your arm. He strains his grip around you, harsh—he's never handled jealousy well—and you think of the bruise that would make later. It stung as he continued to clench you.

'Mhm, I don't think so,' He shook his head, tongue clicking as he scolded you. 'Acting like a fucking whore... letting that scumbag buy you a drink. Do I not please you, hm?'

You shook your head, eyes apologetic.

'Coryo,' You began, but he cocked a brow, displeased that you were still calling him by his nickname. How could you be allowed that freedom when you had disobeyed him?

'I don't want to hear it,' He began to pull you away from the crowd, the sound of the band strumming away on their guitars fading into background noise as he brought you two to a quiet alcove.

Coriolanus pushes you up against the wall roughly, hands moving to your skirts, rucking them up to your thighs. HIs icy blue eyes are glistening with a ravenous desire. He presses himself flush against you, hands grasping the smooth skin of your thighs. You can feel him hardening against you.

'What did I tell you about misbehaving?' He taunts, grinding up against your exposed thighs, his clothed bulge ripe against your core. You attempt to clench your thighs together, but he shoves them apart extremely disgruntled at your endeavours to reject him.

'Whores don't get to say no,' He hisses, fiddling with the buttons on his coveralls. It's a little indecent as he has to tie the sleeves around his waist, but he soon frees his cock; hard and throbbing, the tip red and dripping.

'Mhm,' You manage to get out, going a little limp against him, surrendering your body to his whims. You have to admit that sometimes you go out of your way to enrage him... there's something so attractive about his possessive nature. The way he has to have you, and his complete disregard for propriety.

He runs his hand up and down his cock a few times, and then, with a little too much enthusiasm, he hikes your panties down roughly. He then presses his cock straight into your cunt, slick and dripping with want. You let out a high pitched gasp, resting your head back against the hard stone brick of the wall.

Coriolanus pulls your legs up around him, his thick cock now stretching out your walls. You grunt as he begins to thrust, seeing all that pent up desire in his noble face. How his desperation turns him into a savage, and not the star pupil of the Academy in the Capitol.

'You like that, huh?' He asks as he bucks into you roughly, your head knocking slightly against the wall.

A cock-drunk moan escapes your lips, which are plump with blood. He squeezes your thighs between his hands, attempting to get a better hold on you.

'Stupid little whore,' He sputters, pounding your tight, wet cunt. How dare you betray him. You shudder against him, your pussy throbbing with each movement he makes; for although he grows rougher, you can't help but want him all the more.

He removes one hand off your thigh, and reaches up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging on it. You cry out, feeling a slight tingling in your scalp.

'Don't you ever do that again!' He yells, pulling harder at the roots of your hair.

You nod, unable to form words. He scowls, tugging at your hair once again. A stinging pain shoots through your head.

'Answer me!' He growls, continuing to thrust harshly into you. You whimper, lips trembling, trying to find some semblance of words.

'Yes,' You muster, gasping as you feel him, so deep inside of you, stretching you out, his balls slapping against your entrance.

'Yes what?' Coriolanus demands, and you swallow thickly, a little afraid. Your heart pounds, blood rushing to your head.

'Yes sir,' You sputter. He lets out a contended sigh.

'Mhm, that's right,' He coos. 'Good girl.' His sweet words are a stark contrast to the way he is pounding you up against the wall, movements illuminating the repressed anger that coursed through his veins.

How it turns him on, having you up against this wall, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure as he fucks you like the stupid slut you are. He can feel himself getting closer; the way your pussy clenches around his cock and the desperate sounds you make. He has to remind you that you're his, and only his.

He only has to pump you a few more times, his cock aching for release. The slick leaking from your cunt coats his cock, and he nestles his head in your shoulder, giving a few final thrusts before letting out a deep groan. You feel him finishing inside of you, hot, sticky cum coating the inside of your walls.

Gasping, he slides out of you, and you feel his spilled seed slowly trickling down your thighs. He pulls your panties up, grinning as he thinks about how you're going to have to walk back out there with his cum gradually dripping out.

'You look so pretty,' He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smile, used to his sweetness that seems to come back after he gets what he wants.

'Thank you, Coryo,' You say, knowing how he delights in your obedience to him.

He bobs his head, watching as you smooth your skirts down, still a little dishevelled, hair astray. He thought you looked beautiful like this, though; eyes blown out with desire, lips ripe, an overall look of cock-drunkenness. You wrap your arms around him, looking up with a grin.

'You're my girl, huh?' He asks, a small smile crossing his lips and you nod your head in response.

'I'm yours.'

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 25. Smooth

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous

No spoilers in this one but it does make reference to some shenanigans in The Lark and the Crow.

Also on AO3

---

They nabbed him just as he turned the corner and hauled him up hard against the alley wall. Both arms pinned, trachea crushed by an elbow, Woljif began a choked incantation and then stopped himself as three overfed moon-like faces loomed into sight. The Brevan braggarts.

Ah. No need to panic after all. This was salvageable.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he wheezed. His tail snaked along the wall and hid itself behind his leg, recalling a previous incident with these same “gentlemen.”

The middle one leaned in. His breath stank like Gran’s—only instead of cheap moonshine, the top-shelf stuff. “Those potions of Mighty Prowess and Virility you sold us. They don’t work.”

“Yeah,” said the left one, popping the cork on a vial and knocking back its contents, and then staring pointedly at Woljif as nothing whatsoever ensued. “Do I look mighty and virile to you?”

“Uh. I don’t get it. What in the Nine Hells?” He managed to shrug them off him with the big innocent puppy-eyes. “Lemme try one a’ those.”

A vial was thrust at him and he downed it in one gulp. Very much exactly what he expected, because he was the one who brewed it: cheap mead mixed with beet juice.

He screwed up his face. Looked at the sky. Folded his arms over his chest.

“Huh.”

“You are gonna pay up, guttertief, one way or another.”

“Holy Inheritor and all the good gods, I been grifted!” Woljif cried, blinking up some moisture in his eyes. “I can’t believe it. Those scoundrels! And I gave ‘em every last copper I had to my name and now my ol’ Gran’s gonna go without supper, all because I was too green to see it, and with her sick and all. Oh, what have I done?”

Over the course of this performance the Brevan who had drunk the potion began to make an odd face.

If it weren’t for the subtlest hint of jasmine on the breeze Woljif would have been hoodwinked. As it was he watched with carefully suppressed glee as the Brevan puffed himself up, flexed his muscles and let out a bellow like a bull.

“It’s kickin’ in,” Woljif said helpfully while the other two Brevans looked on in wonder at their companion.

“Then how come the other potions didn’t work?” One of them turned on him and made as if to push him up against the wall again but he ducked aside.

“Must be you gotta build up a head a’ steam, a little, you know, emotion. A little rage. A little passion. To start the fire.”

The Brevans nodded, wide-eyed as their companion whooped, picked up a barrel in one fist and threw it down the alley, where it splintered spectacularly against the wall.

“I got a few more in stock,” Woljif called after them hopefully but they were already gulping potions and heading whooping back out into the city.

As soon as they were gone he started to slip away in the opposite direction but there before him out of thin air was the chief, every clashing color of the rainbow and smiling from ear to ear.

What was that weird flipping-over feeling in Woljif’s chest? He made a mental note to see Sosiel and get his heart checked.

“Anevia caught wind you might be in trouble, so I came down to make sure you were all right.”

“I had it under control,” Woljif muttered. Why did his face feel so hot? It wasn’t the “potion,” anyway, that much was for sure.

“I know,” the chief shrugged. “That was pretty smooth. I hope you don’t mind if I had a little fun with the old Elysian enchantment.”

Is he pullin’ my tail?

Not a sign of it. Nothing but a complicit gleam in his handsome hazel eye.

The shy smile that crept up on Woljif was quickly effaced. “Yeah well, I reckon I owe you one.”

“Buy me a drink?”

“Sure.” Woljif’s whole stupid body said it before his brain could catch up, and then he spent the walk to the Half Measure grappling with wild swings of humor between sourly calculating the price of Andoren wine and giddily aware of the comfortable glow of the chief at his side, and it wasn’t until he was seated at the bar at the Half Measure watching Siavash take a long, appreciative sip that he realized he wasn’t the one who’d been smooth.