#For no apparent reason of course ✨

[tinyperson00]

My attempt at replicating the bsd style-

it’s a lot freaking harder than I thought ;-;

I’m not used to the skinny limbs save me 😭

anyway imma just go- *looks up at time* HOLY SHIT ITS ALMOST 1am- I GOT FRICKING SCHOOL AT 5:30am

WELP 🫡

I’m still not tired tho……. All nighter on a school night part 31?

[hitlikehammers]

steddie ✨soulmarks✨ except that they spell out your soulmate’s last words 💔

(‘make him pay’ = epically lame iteration of this heartbreaking phenomenon)

From the minute he learned about soulmates as a kid, Steve knew not only that he wanted one—of course he did—but that he was absolutely going to get one. Didn’t matter that they were rare as hell, didn’t matter that every year fewer matches were reported: nope. Steve Harrington had a soulmate, and he was going to find them. When he eventually found out the tragedy of it all, the reason people were celebrating fewer instances of soulmates finding one another, Steve’s feelings on the matter didn’t change. At all. The words that appear to signal your match being the last words they’re meant to speak, before they die? Fuck that.

rating: m ♥️ tags: mid-s4 final battle, canon divergence, eddie says the soulmate words on steve’s skin that double as his last words, steve is having absolutely none of that, canon fix-it, romance, steve stays with eddie to prevent his untimely demise, dustin henderson: surprisingly good with molotov cocktails, happy ending ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day twenty five: “He is half of my soul, as the poets say.” ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Steve hears it, nods even and makes to step away—he hears it, but like, it takes a second to sink in.

But once it’s all sunk in, saturated in his cells, his bones?

“Change of plans,” he calls out, and gives a total of no shits if anyone has an objections.

“Henderson.”

Dustin perks up; he might have been playing tough about rolling his eyes over not being a hero but he’s predictable—he likes being important enough to get singled out.

“You think you can hit a target with a flaming bottle while a vine, or a tail, might be trying to strangle you?”

Steve wouldn’t have even had to look to know Dustin’s up for it—suspicion, confusion, those too of course but at least not outright resistance because, again.

Predictable.

He does look at Dustin anyway, though.

Mainly because he knows he won’t find such easy acceptance in any of the other faces gathered around, but like…

Here’s the thing.

From the minute he learned about soulmates as a kid, Steve knew not only that he wanted one—of course he did—but that he was absolutely going to get one. Didn’t matter that they were rare as hell, didn’t matter that every year fewer matches were reported: nope. Steve Harrington had a soulmate, and he was going to find them.

When he eventually found out the tragedy of it all, the reason people were celebrating fewer instances of soulmates finding one another, Steve’s feelings on the matter didn’t change. At all.

The words that appear to signal your match being the last words they’re meant to speak, before they die?

Fuck that.

They said you got the words the year it’d happen, first day. No sense of when, just before the year was over. So, like, it was super simple. Steve would just find them, protect them, make sure they say something else as soon as possible to negate the…the curse of it, save them, and then ride into the sunset. Easy.

And actually, he thought it was pretty fucking stupid that people really bought into the whole thing being, like, a guaranteed recipe for heartbreak. If even Steve could figure out how to navigate the rules that easily.

By high school, he learns that people have tried—which is reassuring, that everyone through all the ages wasn’t that stupid or unimaginative, or so easily resigned to the worst—and they’d failed.

All of them, apparently.

Allegedly.

That part is more of a bummer. But Steve Harrington has known he’d find his soulmate his entire life. And he will. So while now he knows he’s up against almost impossible odds, if the stories are to be believed?

He spends high school practicing. Knowing none of these girls are his forever but learning the long way what works and what doesn’t, how to treat someone with care, how to please someone without question. He gets his reputation: Casanova, but not for keeps. He’s good with that.

By the time the Upside Down had entered his world, it was both the worst thing, and the bestthing. Because alternate dimensions were impossible.

Yet here they were.

And what else had he always been told was impossible?

So it could—would—be possible, too.

Steve wasn’t sure he realized how thin of a thread his hope had been hanging on until it rebuilds in chainlinks the more he sees of the impossible, the more he knows again with all of him that when the time comes, he’ll save them.

Make Him Pay was a weird mark to find on his skin in the early hours of 1986, but it meant that he was right. He had a soulmate.

And he had a whole year to find them. And save them. And ask if they’d like a forever, too.

And how fucking lucky, that it barely takes two months.

Impending apocalypse aside, of course. But those were just details. Practically routine, at this point.

So, again: it takes a couple seconds to sink in. For it to make sense alongside the fluttery feeling he’s been having off and on from the base of his throat to the pit of his stomach, since probably somewhere around the boathouse. He almost gets a full step away, even.

But he doesn’t.

Because this, this right here?

This is what Steve Harrington has been preparing for his whole goddamn life.

Robin—the only other person in the world who knows what’s scrawled on his skin—was too far to hear for herself but he taps the inside of his elbow where the words are branded when she looks at him, flooded with questions but her eyes go wide, she picks it up fast as the answer to basically all of them, then turns to Eddie and they stare at each other, exchanging unspoken confirmations for more wonderings until Robin squares her shoulders, nods at Steve more than once so he knows she’s not just committed to figuring this out with him, but that she supports him, maybe even approves of these cards he’s been dealt to save the beautiful curly haired weirdo standing between them.

Fuck, but he loves her. So much.

“He’s soft on you, Henderson,” she cuts in, takes the reins; “convince me. You any better than you were last summer with squeezing out of tight spots? Particularly, you know,” she flicks her eyes meaningfully over to the angry red lines on Steve’s neck; “those involving psychic sorta-vines, or bat-tails trying to hang you?”

“I…” Dustin still looks a little thrown by the team shakeup but he’s a smart fucking kid, and a quick study when he wants to be: “hypothetically?” He chews on his lip, strokes his chin like he’s putting in real thought, here. “Like, with my cleidocranial dysplasia—”

“Your shoulder blade thing?” Nancy pipes up, a little incredulous, and Steve almost feels for her; she hasn’t spent enough time with Dustin to not only know that she’s wrong, but to know how he reacts when people whose intelligence he respected at least a little bit are the ones who are wrong.

“Collarbone,” he eyes her ruthlessly, wholly unimpressed, then turns back to Robin alone; “but, might be able to wiggle out better?”

Robin nods, considering-like, but Steve can see she’s trying not to laugh a little at how Nancy’s now incredulously gaping at them.

“And how’s your aim?” she asks, a little doubtfully—Dustin doesn’t exactly strike…anyone on-sight as being particularly good at throwing shit and making sure it hits a target.

As in, an intended target.

“I smoke everyone at Front Line,” Dustin announces with absolute confidence before twin snorts come from Steve and Eddie in near-tandem, and he glares hard but admits: “except Max.”

“Oh my god, are we seriously,” Nancy can only be heard if you’re listening close and know what her under-the-breath-disbelief sounds like, not just that they’re having this conversation but that they’re having it, as she says, seriously. And Steve would have missed the sound of it too, save that try as had might have in the most awkward days following the implosion of…everything, with them—he hadn’t forgotten.

But honestly, kinda just…screw her. He won’t pretend it’s not a little fucked that they’re playing a life-or-death battle like it’s picking teams in gym class, but it’s only flippant on the surface. Steve would never, would never trust Dustin where he really didn’t think he could handle himself—maybe it’s not ideal, but he does trust the kid, much as he wishes he could keep him from the frontlines, protect him and let him be exposed to the worst of the horrors as little as possible; but Steve also wouldn’t ever risk Robin, or hell, even Nancy, to himself being as distracted as he’d be not knowing that Eddie was safe.

None of it’s ideal. But what about anything with this monster-mash-realm shit ever has been?

And it’s not like Nancy knows that Steve even has a soulmate. She definitely doesn’t know that he’s just found said soulmate, on his way to the gallows on a coin-toss—and sure, yeah, they all are. But there…it’s just…

There was nothing in this dimension or any other that was tearing Steve away from him, and making damn fucking sure he got to ask that question.

Would he also be interested, as in—would he, too, like a…like a forever.

With Steve.

“Also very much top-three at skee-ball,” Dustin’s adding to his battle-resume; “including Max, there.”

Robin pretends to consider; she looks to Steve—reassures him. She understands, and believes they can do this. That they’ll all be okay. He even thinks—beyond wishful thinking—that her bad feelings about all of this aren’t in play right now in this shakeup. He…breathes a little easier.

“You’re with us,” Robin snaps her fingers and waves Dustin over to her and Nancy; “get ready to light the fucker up.”

“Dustin,” Steve calls the kid back before he can scramble away too quick—way too enthusiastically. He turns, still confused about the change at large but in the moment confused why Steve needs him back but he’s gotta say it, one more time:

“Don’t be a hero,” he says, gripping Dustin’s shoulders and shaking him just a little, squeezing tight before he leans in, stares eye to eye before he pulls the most important card he’s got:

“You die, I die.”

He holds Dustin’s gaze until the kid seems to get that Steve’s as serious as Dustin’s ever been and likely more; until he nods, slow and deliberate and says solemn, like a oath form his dweeb books:

“Okay.”

Then, just as he makes to let go, Dustin’s clamping a hand over one of Steve’s on his shoulder and narrowing his eyes:

“Same goes for you, remember that,” he scolds in advance, because of course he does; “plus, on top of that,” he squeezes Steve’s hand as he uses his free one to shake a pointed finger at him:

“If you told us nothing cute, you can’t change the rules now that you’re staying behind.”

Steve wants to laugh. Wants to bend the rules of the universe so none of them have to separate from each other. But…he trusts the others. And he trusts Robin to understand that he’s not just staying with his soulmate, he’s staying because the die was cast to fight for him, against the end for him, and Eddie’s green to this bullshit where they’re all seasoned vets—he trusts her to take care of herself as he’d take care of her, as half his brain cells and the better half at that, and to make sure the rest of them are as safe as they can be, too.

“Noted,” is all he ends up saying with as reassuring a grin as he manage before giving Dustin a shove toward Rob and Nance that definitely isn’t halfway just so he can keep hold of him a millisecond longer. “Get going,” and he tells himself it’ll be okay; doesn’t know if the toothy grin and the snarky double thumbs-up he gets helps or makes it harder to swallow.

He forces himself to toss a salute toward Robin and turn the fuck away before he ruins his own fucking plan of action by demanding that they all find a way to stick together, restructure from the ground up but really fucking quick—

He forces himself to turn back.

To Eddie. Who is staring at him, a little gape-mouthed. A little fast-blinking.

“The fuck was that?”

Which, okay. Okay, that…that is very fair.

But Steve needs a second. He needs a second to soak in the words, from Eddie’s mouth; to pretend to itch near his elbow to see if the words had changed: no.

No, they’re still the same, and he…right. The words were said. His soulmate’s last words had been said, and now his soulmate has said more words.

Right. He’d managed this much—the hardest part, and he had thought it’d unclench the vise in his chest a little more than this but: fine. Fine, he’s over the biggest hurdle. Keeping Eddie safe is in hishands, now, like he always planned—how could you not save your soulmate—and now he just, he…

He just has to make sure Eddie doesn’t fucking say them again before this is over, and then maybe they’d have a chance.

Maybe…maybe they could even have a forever.

He can fucking do this. He was goddamn born to do this.

Steve takes a deep breath and meets Eddie’s questioning gaze.

The fuck was that, he’d asked. Ha.

“You want the heavy version now, or after?”

Eddie narrows those dangerous fucking doe eyes at him, looks him up and down: sees him.

Steve kinda wants to give in to the urge to shiver for the way that gaze sweeps down him across maybe twenty whole heartbeats and Steve feels more deeply known than he thinks he’s felt…ever. Like this.

Eddie heaves a very deep breath and concedes:

“Guess ‘after’ is fine, given we appear to be on a time crunch.”

That’s the right answer—and it’s enough to spur Steve into immediate motion.

He’s already grabbed Eddie by the frayed edge of his vest and is dragging him into the trailer where he lets go, pauses, zips Eddie’s jacket up all the way to the chin, then starts making his checks.

“The hell are you doing?”

Eddie sounds genuinely baffled, more than anything. It would sound adorable in any other moment.

(Goddamnit, but it still sounds adorable, now.)

“You’ve lived in a trailer,” Steve says as he jumps from one side of the very trailer they happen to be in—one that maybe Eddie used to live in, or maybe just a shell, an echo, a carbon copy—fuck if Steve understands what the Upside Down really is on that level;

“But I used to dream of buying an RV,” he tries to underscore the was of it, the used to: the very intentional past tense.

What he wants now is…a future. Almost any future. With this man. With his soulmate.

Eddie.

What he wants is for Eddie, to want to be his Eddie.

And to want Steve, to be Eddie’s Steve.

“They’re not entirely different, but,” Steve pulls furniture out to aid his manic quest, hears Eddie’s voice stop and start around words, mostly only settle around befuddled noises and squeaks; “one thing all the magazines said to watch for is—”

And then he sees it. Grins like he found the…holy-cup, thingy. World Cup?

The really important thingy.

“The ventilation.”

He points and turns to Eddie with what has to look like the grin of an absolutely crazy person but he doesn’t care one fucking bit.

He is somehow more relieved than he thinks is probably necessary to have found them, but like:

“The vents are often overlooked.”

All the RV magazine made comments about ventilation somewhere. He even read about improperly cleaned vents causing a fire, once.

But now he can cover all the bases. Now, he can protect Eddie. Now he has a fucking shot.

But first:

“We fortify this thing like Fort fucking Knox.”

Eddie takes him to where his uncle keeps most of their home improvement type supplies, which turns out to be under the couch and in various random places in the kitchen. He carries an arm full of tape and scissors, hammers and nails over toward the vents before going back for trip number two.

Eddie’s pulling another roll of duct tape out of another mystery drawer in the kitchen—Steve would ask what they needed so much of it for in ‘83 but it’s working for them, so he keeps his mouth shut—for them to block all possible creases and crevices, top to fucking bottom.

Which is exactly what Steve makes damn fucking sure they do.

“Do you really have to play, like, live? Outside, I mean,” Steve asks from focusing on his tape-job, before he starts boarding up the last possible point of entry, as Eddie starts hooking up the audio for the, y’know, the original diversion part of the plan; “or can you rig it to play like a tape, or something,” he’s grasping at straws, pulling too violently at the tape as he sticks another layer on, maybe the fourth by now and it still feels inadequate; “or can you play from in here—”

“Steve.”

He doesn’t expect Eddie so close, close enough for him to grab Steve’s elbows and still them.

To move his hold down Steve’s forearms. Like…deliberately.

“Let me lure them from out there, at least to make sure they’re taking the bait,” Eddie says, those eyes like the ocean in the dark, near-black and fathomless, but also safe and true and right; “and then we can swap a tape in, we can set that up now real fast, so it’s a quick-change?”

Steve blinks, stares down at Eddie’s hands on his, unexpected but right in a way Steve hadn’t even thought to anticipate, for if he ultimately found that soulmate he was after.

“I need you to stay safe. Please.”

The words catch in Steve’s throat, entirely unplanned, and rip rough over gravel on the way out as he looks up, then, and holds Eddie’s gaze with a level of intent he wasn’t sure he had in him before this very moment:

“Promise me.”

And there’s a second where Steve thinks that’s too much, that it goes too far—

“I swear, Steve,” Eddie barely breathes, but those depthless eyes almost seem now to glow: “I don’t understand, but I promise.”

And they let go of one another, and get back to work but…it all feels more vital now. More charged and absolute.

So when Eddie picks up his guitar, fiddles a little and checks the amps, ensures that this’ll shatter eardrums like it’s meant to—Steve pulls him by the collar, and re-zips every layer on him straight to the top.

“No being cute,” Steve reiterates, but even firmer this time; “no trying to be a hero.”

“Told you that wasn’t my area of expertise,” Eddie smirks enough to hollow a dimple.

“Fuck off,” Steve shoves at him, but not toward the door; not yet; “but you’re already plenty cute, so,” he reaches and straightens Eddie’s battle gear one last time as he takes a breath, clears his throat:

“Stick to the plan.”

It must feel as real in this moment to Eddie as it does to Steve, as final and as much of a risk as anything could ever be—or maybe Steve hadn’t cleared the heart in his throat, seizing up a riot, well enough to hide because Eddie stills, goes very suddenly very deathly pale, and blinks too fast to a long stretch of seconds before he’s the one clearing his throat, stumbling over words at a pitch at least an octave too high:

“Which was?” he asks, shaky, like he’sgrasping at straws now, or else: maybe just grasping.

“Umm,” “Eddie fumbles, and Steve can see the pulse heavy in this neck when he swallows; “just to remind me?”

Steve…Steve always knew whoever his soulmate was, he would love them. It’s just how he’s built. But like, soulmate or not, in this moment?

Steve thinks he’ll walk out of this with his heart on a fucking platter for this man, words on his arm or not.

He moves on instinct, and pulls Eddie into a tight hug, the bracing type to steady him as he whispers close to his ear, maybe too intimate by anyone else’s standards, but honestly?

Everyone else can go fuck thensleves.

“Play until they’re maybe…two minutes out,” Steve bullet-points the plan as clear as he can, wills himself not to be distracted by how Eddie seems to shake with the force of his own pulse. “Then get your ass back in here. We lock down and start the tape.”

He dares to squeeze Eddie close, so tight, just once, before moving his hands to Eddie’s shoulders and searching his eyes for questions—and yeah, also maybe just looking at those eyes.

“Roger that,” Eddie exhales so soft, and swallows hard, grabs for one of Steve’s hands on his shoulder still and squeezes it tight kinda out of nowhere, then they moving.

Steve takes another deep breath to steady himself and, after checking every nook and crack and cranny, and starts getting the tape and nails and boards set up to quick-fire seal the door once Eddie’s safe inside.

He’s freaking out, he’s not gonna sugarcoat or downplay it: but the way his heart’s pounding is kinda split for cause because…even though he knows every note his soulmate plays from the goddamn roof is meant to coax the apocalypse to turn their way—fuck, but Eddie’s good with that fucking guitar.

Steve doesn’t have to be into the genre to appreciate that it’s hot and yeah, okay—there’s no more he can do until Eddie’s inside so maybe he…takes a peek.

Oh yeah. Fucking hot.

He makes himself turn, check the sky: the bats are taking the bait.

They’re close e-fucking-nough.

“Eddie!” he yells it but it’s not enough over the amps so he guesses where a break will come and whistles between his fingers, startling Eddie enough to nearly drop his guitar.

“Inside! Now!” he snaps his fingers as Eddie scrambles down and into the trailer, setting his instrument aside as Steve flips the tape to play, more muted but still ear-splitting enough to take over before he starts taping the door once, twice, cross-cross, a third time—then he grabs for the nails and the panels they’d ripped from anywhere they served a purpose that wasn’t fucking structural, and starts hammering them in, decides another layer of duct tape can’t hurt, then, well, there’s more wood so, again, can’t be too careful—

He’s not expecting the hand reaching out to stop him.

“This the heavier version, then?”

Steve turns toward the rough, shaky words, means to tell Eddie to just wait, let him finish this, they don’t have time, but—

The arm Eddie’s grabbed…his sleeve has runched up. To show the words near his elbow. In…

The words come in your soulmate’s handwriting, right, so Eddie would…would recognize that, even if he forgot saying…

“I,” Steve thinks his mouth moves more than it makes actual noise, and this time his heart pounding isn’t split for its reason in any possible way, no, it’s all tangled up: terror and want and nerves and resolve all mixed together. He tries to read anything from Eddie’s face, from the way he stares at Steve with those wide, wide eyes.

“Yeah?” Steve kinda chokes around it a little—maybe he’s hoping something telling, something readable will shift in Eddie’s expression: no dice. Just staring, and breathing a little heavy, and the chittering of the bats getting ever-closer outside.

Steve breathes out, nails the last panel in and straightens up, looks Eddie straight in those big gorgeous eyes that he desperately wants the chance to drown in later, when this is over.

He really hopes being honest right now doesn’t cost him a chance at later.

“Yeah.”

And in what feels like the last fucking second left before Steve’s heart fucking rips through his skin, Eddie’s face flickers and gives…everything away.

He fucking glows.

“Good,” and Eddie’s breathless with something other than the fear of dying, despite the circumstances, despite the incoming flood of creatures out for their blood; he’s not wholly absent of nerves as he rolls up his own sleeve, but he’s vibrating almost, more than he’s shaking, and it comes through in the words that spill forth in a rush:

“Because this one’s mine.”

And there it is, thrust into Steve’s eyeline, in Steve’s very familiar scrawl:

stick to the plan

He…he remembers saying that. And he remembers Eddie paling so fast Steve would have been scared if they weren’t awaiting a fight for their lives but…

Maybe that hadn’t been it at all.

“Seriously?”

It comes out of Steve breathier than he wants, or expects because…he guesses he never really processed, in all the years and in all the yearning, the planning, the wanting, the…the all of it.

He didn’t really process the soulmate he’d find, finding him back.

“Couldn’t let you stop talking there,” Eddie says, a little small, almost shy; “whether you’d want me or not, I couldn’t—”

And Steve, who had wondered just how bad the nerves were for Eddie to have forgotten the pretty straight forward plan they’d both been working on pretty single-mindedly since they’d split from Dustin and the girls, but now, now he—

The bats will be here in a fucking second.

But fuck it, Steve leans in.

And fuck but Eddie meets him halfway without a second’s hesitation.

Steve maybe hears the bats start to hit the trailer; might be his heartbeat in his ears. He knows he hears Eddie moan and tease Steve’s lips, hears that moan go deeper when Steve’s mouth opens and their tongues find each other and, well.

There’s nothing left for them to do, really. They’ve played their role—and Steve hadn’t battened down the hatches on this place for nothing, after all.

This is a hell of a lot better way to wait out their end of things, by a fucking long shot, regardless—and Jesus.

Steve couldn’t ever have expected Eddie to taste this sweet.

♥️🦇🦇♥️

✨also on ao3

For @stuftzombie (to whom I apologise 1) for completely misreading your prompt and writing this first, and then going back and reading it RIGHT—so like, please tell me if you want a second CORRECT fill now that I’m back online to post one, I can absolutely write the original prompt no problem—I feel both very stupid and also TERRIBLE for somehow making THIS THE PROMPT, and then 2) I also apologise PROFUSELY for the EGREGIOUS delay—I had a folder of prompts that I saved twice, but didn’t realise was a separate file 🫠) who requested SOULMATE AU at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @eternal-sunflowers @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[swtblue]

Friends feat j.wy

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

♪ This does NOT represent Wooyoung in any way, it's just fiction.

♪ NSFW! +20 | MDNI (I should say that minors can't read this but I can't stop them from reading this so read at your own risk).

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Warnings: use of words like dick, cock, pussy, bitch (not addressing the reader either Wooyoung)...; mentions of handjob, blowjob, fingering, pussy eating, vaginal sex, skipping classes (don't do that)...; use of pet names, dom-sub subtle dynamic.

If I have forgotten something, please let me know.

Note: I wanted to write something special for Wooyoung because of his birthday 🫣. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it and enjoy your read! Love you my stars!

✨ Love and sparkles ✨

Neither of you knew how it happened in the first place. It just happened one movie night at Wooyoung's apartment in which your best friend's dick decided to get hard for no apparent reason.

Neither of you felt something romantic for the other, and it seemed to be a bit annoying for your friend so, without malice, you offered to help him calm it down. It was just a harmless handjob, no? It wasn't like seeing his dick was going to trade your friendship or something like that. But what started as a simple handjob ended with you taking his full length in your mouth, willingly swallowing everything Wooyoung had to offer. His hands pressed your head down his length while yours played with his sensitive balls as you wished.

When the idea of helping him came up, you didn't think that your panties would get as wet as they ended. Nor was it in your mind either that you would end up legs wide open on the sofa with Wooyoung devouring your needy cunt so deliciously. Moaning like a bitch in heat every time his fingers fucked sinfully your clenching moistened hole while his tongue swirled playfully around your clit.

Of course, neither of you could ever have imagined that your usual movie night on Friday would have ended with his cock deep inside your pussy, piercing your cervix for hours in different positions.

That night woke up an intense burning desire that has gradually turned into an unhealthy obsession. A dirty, depraved spiral of unfiltered, unchecked sex where you just want to be full and Wooyoung just wants to get his cock wet. You are just two best friends using each other whenever your bodies call for it. No matter where, no matter what time. Just one call and you two will be a mess of moans, saliva, sweat and semen. You really are like animals in heat.

The sexual need of being with each other is such that you even have skipped classes at university. It's true that classes are important, of course they are, but being pinned against the door in the bathroom with Wooyoung's hand in your mouth to keep you from making more noise than necessary while this horny boy whispers all kinds of unblissful things in your ear are way too much better than to hear some boring old teacher explaining who knows what.

"Although I love those angelic sounds of yours too much I need you to keep that little mouth shut, babe. Can you do that for me? Or do you want us to be discovered? Does the idea of the whole faculty watching me piercing your little naughty pussy turn you on? Is that it?".

And how not to mention those naughty and entertaining evenings in which Wooyoung tries to keep his composure while playing with some friends online because you are cockwarming him so deliciously. You don't give a shit about his game, either his friends at the other end of the call. You just want his cock inside you. On more than one occasion Wooyoung has had to mute himself for how much you were clenching around him, making him moan in such a shameless way.

There is not a Friday night in which you two don't end up fucking after watching a movie. Although, lately you have been starting with the foreplay while the movie was still running in the background. Wooyoung sliding his naughty hand under the sheet that covers you both only to grope for the edge of the miniature piece of fabric you supposedly call a skirt and which you have clearly put on to provoke him, successfully finding your clit underneath the already wet fabric of your panties and starting to play with it.

But when you try to do something similar to him, suddenly your hands are held by his free hand. On his face reigns that triumphant smile that you have so often wanted to tear off but that now makes you clench your thighs tightly because a trickle of your sticky arousal decides to run all over your pussy.

"Only half an hour of film left, babe. If you cum before the movie ends I will edge you for another half an hour".

Half an hour of being a victim of Wooyoung's torturous game is hell but you're too stubborn to lose against him so you barely make it through those damn credits where you don't even give him time to take the movie off. In the blink of an eye you're already in his lap, jumping like a rabbit in heat on his cock in search of your precious, long-awaited orgasm.

"Only half an hour, kitty. If you cum before me just one time I will edge you for a whole hour".

[outtathisworld-imagines]

Hold your peace

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x F!Barnes!Reader

Warning: Angst, a bit of unrequited love, fluff, swearing, blocks of italic are flashbacks! Not proofread!

A.N: A bit inspired by Speak Now, a big bit inspired by Bob- enjoy!

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

“Where you going?” John mindlessly asked Bob as he walked through the living room one evening tapping his pockets to ensure he had everything. You and the team were lazing about on the sofas but he was buzzing around.

He bashfully smiled “Oh, I-I uh, I have a date.”

Yelena felt you tense and she was sitting on the other side of the room. You hadn’t blinked in what felt like hours, your lungs suddenly had no air in them and your heart had stopped beating.

John blew a raspberry. “You’re kidding- you have a date?” Bob slowly nodded, genuinely wondering why he was surprised, why any of his team were surprised. He noticed that everyone was looking at him, everyone except you.

He nodded and swallowed thickly “Y-yeah, just dinner, I knew her back in high school actually. She was in town and reached out for some reason.”

Alexei’s eyebrows furrowed “What you mean for some reason? She no like you?” He asked, his eyes darting to you. You remained stoic, biting the inside of your cheek.

Bob chuckled, a nervousness laced within it. “It’s just two people catching up guys,” he said, avoiding the question. “It’s not like I’m gonna marry her or anything.”

—•—

Two years later…

“I can’t believe he’s marrying her.”

Words that were often muttered by the team whenever they saw Bob, then again whenever they saw you.

Your lovelorn expression changing to a false joyous one whenever you were around Bob before falling back again.

Of course you were happy for him to an extent.

You were happy he was happy.

But the whole team knew your true feelings for Bob and they knew that you were slowly dying inside.

Yelena sat herself down beside you as you scrolled on your phone with a loud sigh. “Bridezilla is on the way.” She groaned. Your lip tugged upwards at the nickname everyone had given her.

Every element of wedding planning was scrutinised and complained about by her. God, even the ring Bob proposed with was apparently ‘too small’ and so she got a bigger one, Bob was just trying to please and bending over backwards in the process. He was just too lovestruck to realise.

To blinded to realise that this wasn’t what he should be doing.

To naive to realise that she didn’t love him, she just loved the fame and fortune that came with him as a New Avenger.

“Hmm,” you mused, trying to play off that you were completely numb to the situation. But Yelena knew you better than that.

She peered over at your screen and gasped, snatching your phone “No!” She looked at you with a disappointed expression. “You’re looking for apartments? Why?”

You tried to get the phone from her but she pulled back further. “Lena,” an affectionate nickname she let you call her by “Please, I’m not serious, I just want to see what’s out there.”

She scoffed “If you weren’t serious you wouldn’t be looking.” She sounded like a parent scolding a child. The doors opened and you saw the bride to be, clomping with her heels through the living space and making her way to Bobs room. Yelena saw your face fall. “Don’t go because of her.”

You looked at your friend with sad eyes “It hurts too much not to consider it just a little bit for my own sanity.” To tried to make her see reason and she did see where you were coming from.

“Why can’t you just tell him? Stop this from letting it do any further.” Yelena said, as if that were the easiest thing in the world.

Your eyes filled with tears “It isn’t that simple,” you quietly admitted, fidgeting with your fingers. Yelena reached her hand out and placed it on top of yours, trying to ease your anxious trait. “He’s happy and that’s all that matters.”

“It matters that you’re happy too,” her words hit you like a train, always having your own feelings pushed to the back. You had very much prioritised others.

There was a moment when you felt happiness like no other however.

Until moments later you felt the worst ache and pain of your life.

—•—

Bob appeared in front of you one afternoon as you sat on the sofa reading over a mission debrief from Val. “Can I practice something on you?” He asked and you raised a brow.

“Uhh…sure! I guess.” You sent him a smile and placed the report that was in your hands to the empty spot beside you. “How can I help?” Your eyes flickered to his hands, he did the same as you when you were feeling anxious or nervous.

He finally held out one hand for your own and you took it, he pulled you up from the sofa, his strength almost making you crash into him. Not that you would have minded.

“Okay close your eyes.” He asked and you couldn’t help but giggle as you did so. Completely unassuming and unaware of what he was up to, but you trusted him with your whole being and would have done anything he asked.

“What is all this?” You asked through a smile.

“Open!”

You opened your eyes and gasped, any and all air leaving your lungs at the sight before you.

Bob was down on one knee with a velvet black box almost being squeezed to death with nerves with a ring perfectly perched in the centre.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

You blinked, discreetly pinching your thigh with your fingers, hoping it wasn’t a dream. You pinched yourself again. It wasn’t. “I-I-Bob…yes.” You whispered.

He grinned and looked at his footing. “I think I went too far forward. Let me try again.” He stood back up and brushed himself off. You thought it was perfect. And perfect that he came to his senses, dumped his girlfriend and finally asked yo-

“You think she’ll say yes?” He asked.

Thank god there was a defibrillator on site in the tower since your heart had suddenly stopped at his words. Your world as you knew it shattering before you.

You nodded with a tight smile and watched as he excitably jumped before heading to his room.

You stood there, envisioning your heart beating out on the floor by your feet and wondering if death would have been less painful than this.

—•—

Yelena dragged you to a bar the night of Bob’s bachelor party. She told you getting drunk would blockout the thought that he was getting married in less than two months time.

You tried to believe her.

Deep down you knew nothing would suppress that thought. It consumed you.

Every single waking and sleeping moment.

Every single fibre of your being.

Yelena got a round of shots for you and Ava. You were feeling sorry for yourself in the back booth, mindlessly playing with a cardboard coaster. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” you told Ava and Yelena just as she returned. “I’ll be back.”

You slowly made your way the bathroom, mainly wanting to go there for a break from the loud music. You hunched over a sink and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were tired from the endless amount of crying, your lips hadn’t had a smile grace them in months, misery was laced in your bloodstream.

You washed your hands and left the bathroom with a sigh, that was before you bumped into someone in the hall. “Oh, sorry,” you apologised.

A flashy, bright smile was shot your way from the man you bumped into. “Don’t apologise, I’m glad someone as gorgeous as you bumped into me,” you gave him an extended glance. Blue shirt barely ironed, stone coloured chinos and a puffer vest jacket that screamed ‘finance bro’. “I’m Chad.” That scream was even louder after he introduced himself.

You stupidly extended your hand, every single rational thought in your head telling you no, that it was a bad idea, that you’d regret it, just as you shook his.

“I’m Y/N.” You said with a friendly smile.

“Well Y/N, next drink on me?”

Your head was telling you no again.

You glanced over to Yelena and Ava who were staring at you- a chance to cut him loose, much to the relief of every sensible atom inside you. “Actually I’m with my girls, I should go-“

“How funny, I’m with my guys.” He said, cutting you off. “Why don’t I treat us all to a round?”

You blinked, taken back by his attempt in deflecting your reasonings for not spending time with him. “That’s very generous of you to spend money on us…” you said walking back to your table with him following you.

“Oh, I can afford it. I work in finance.”

Those atoms inside you went off like a nuclear bomb warning you.

But it was too late, you were already exposed to Chad’s radiation.

—•—

The invitation Bob gave everyone sat on your dressing table. You stared at it from your bed in the early hours of the morning, struggling to sleep.

Your phone flashed with a text. Chad. Again.

You had gave him your number after one too many shots that evening you had met him and he had been messaging you ever since. You had met up with him twice in the two months since you had met him for coffee, he had messaged you endlessly pressing for more. You had endlessly ignored him.

Your head and heart were elsewhere. With the wedding just a mere two days away, it felt like you were bracing yourself for your own funeral.

You got up out of bed, tossing on your gym gear and heading down to take out your frustrations and heartache on a punching bag.

You didn’t even bother with gloves, your brain too half-functioning from the lack of sleep to realise the repercussions that would have. You threw one meek punch, barely moving the bag. Then another. Then a harder one. Then with all your might and force.

Grunts and yelps left your mouth as tears fell from your eyes, your arms becoming weaker, your legs barely able to support yourself as you punched away.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Alexei wrapped his strong around your own to stop your mindless punching. You broke down in his arms, he held your body to stop it crashing to the floor. “Shhh, I’ve got you.” He softly cooed in your ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He virtually carried you to the kitchen and sat you on the countertop whilst he got the medical supplies, your knuckles bloodied from the punches you threw.

“It’s pathetic.” You sniffled with a groggy voice, your head hung in shame.

Alexei looked at you sympathetically as he dabbed the grazes on your skin gently with cotton wool. “It’s not pathetic.” He told you and you looked up to him. “Why don’t you tell him? It’s not too late.” You let out a broken laugh and Alexei furrowed his brow. “If you love him-“

“And so I have to let him go.” You cut him off out of frustration. “That’s what you do when you truly love someone. He doesn’t love me-“ a searing pain enveloped your body saying those words “He loves her and he is happy and he wants to marry her.”

“Does he?” Alexei asked. “And are you really sure he is happy?” You blinked, your face faltering with confusion for just a moment.

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s over the moon.” You countered.

Alexei shrugged. “I only ask.” He finished cleaning up your minor cuts. “Maybe she only marry for his fame. Maybe he only asked because you didn’t tell him how you really feel.” His words spiralled around in your mind. He walked you back to your room in silence, he was like a father figure to you. He also had a grip on reality that you had let go of in recent months. Alexei was a voice of reason that made you question everything all at once and all of a sudden.

You shook your confused thoughts away and sadly scoffed. “He does love her.” You whispered to yourself with forced conviction back in your bedroom, alone with your thoughts and the wedding invitation. “Wouldn’t be marrying her if he didn’t.” You added. “He does love her.”

You shut your eyes and tried to get a little sleep. The wedding was two days away and you knew you’d need all your strength to endure it.

The little voice inside your head taunted with a sing-song tone as you drifted off.

‘Does he?’

—•—

Bob had never felt to stressed in his life. His highly-strung wife to be making endless of last minute, and expensive, changes.

He stood bent over the kitchen counter with his hands holding his head, the night before his own wedding and feeling the furthest thing from excited.

“Sorry,” a voice broke him from his thoughts. And from his doubts. “I was just grabbing water.” He watched as you went into the fridge and closed the door, about to leave him without saying another word until he spoke.

“Hey, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.” You stopped in your tracks at his words.

You played with the top of the water bottle “You’ve been pretty busy,” you tightly smiled, ‘not to mention your fiancée has kept you to herself,’ you internally thought. “We’ve understood.”

“We’ve?” He asked.

“The team,” you clarified.

“Oh,” he nodded, knowing he had unintentionally shut everyone- including you- out. “Well what about you?” His voice was small, almost like he was afraid to ask. He deeply cared about you, even if he was scared to show it. Scared that you wouldn’t understand or feel the same.

Little did he know…

You let out a chuckle in disbelief “What about me?”

Bob stepped forward. “What about us?”

You were certain you heard your heart shattering at what he had just said. Your grip on the water bottle becoming so tight you thought you would have burst it with your force. Your mouth opened and closed before you asked him “What about us?” His words repeated back to him almost sounding bitter coming from your lips, not that you meant it to be.

He stood there, a flash of hurt over his face and a new flurry of conflicting feelings inside him. “Are we okay?” Was all he could find in his tornado of emotions to ask you.

‘No’

“Yeah,” you smiled, lying right through your teeth to him and feeling terrible as soon as you did. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

A ping from your phone captured your attention and his too. He was almost thankful not having to answer your question. He was less thankful seeing the name ‘Chad’ flash across your screen.

The longer he stood with you, the more he realised that he would have loved spending his waking moments with you in a kitchen, laughing over a recipe gone wrong.

How he would have loved spending lazy Sunday nights of you.

How he would have loved spending the rest of his life with you.

Regret started to seep in “Y/N-“

“BOBBY!” A shrieking voice made you both jump. Bob’s fiancé approaching with her lips loudly smacking together as she chewed on gum.

Bob glanced round to her voice before turning back to you, but you had already left.

Your feet took you to Yelena’s room, softly chapping on her door and her then calling out for you to come in. She looked at you with a sympathetic smile, Alexei had already filled her in about your little incident the night before with the punching bag. She opened her arms to you and you crawled in beside her with tears streaming down your face, she hugged you until you eventually cried yourself to sleep repeating the words: ‘Why does he love her?’ Over and over through broken sobs.

—•—

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Yelena asked as she fixed your hair.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your wedding guest dress almost strangling you. You turned to her and nodded, swallowing thickly. “I can do this. I can do this for him.”

Bob was in the opposite wing of the tower getting ready with Bucky, John and Alexei. He fixed his bow tie for the tenth time before sighing, accepting it would forever be squint.

“Did Y/N say if she was bringing a plus one?” He tried to drop into casual conversation but it landed like a ton of bricks. The three other men sent each other a glance before Bucky finally spoke.

“Uh I don’t know for sure, maybe that guy she knows that works downtown? What’s his name again, Walker?” He said and John snapped his fingers trying to prompt himself to remember.

“Oh! Chad…” he slightly sneered saying his name.

Bob scoffed and tried to fix his tie again, this time trying to channel is rage into that instead. “That asshole? Why would she be with him?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Maybe she isn’t, like I said, I don’t know.”

Bob blew a raspberry this time. “Yeah but why him of all people?” He asked with a tight voice.

The team had endured your heartache over the last two years, Bucky occasionally being the one finding you crying in the bathroom and then hours of you trying to convince him you were okay. He, like the others were so incredibly protective of you and as much as they tried to be happy for Bob, they were also irritated with the fact he was completely oblivious that you were so in love with him. And that he was marrying someone else when they all knew it should have been you.

“Why not?” Bucky snapped more harshly than he intended.

Bob blinked and shrugged. “Well she deserves better than that…”

“Like who? Like you?” He asked, eyes wide and his hands on his hips.

“Well…” he looked at himself in the mirror and swallowed. He was looking at who you deserved.

Bucky groaned “Yeah it is you, you dumbass. The only reason you can’t see it is because you’ve had rose-tinted glasses glued to your face for the longest time!” He began his rant, the floodgates had opened. “Why him, you ask? Because you never asked her to marry you! It should have been you and Y/N today!” His voice grew in volume as Bob began feeling smaller and smaller, Bucky’s words slicing through him like a knife. “You pushed Y/N away and she ended up in his arms when she should have been in yours, Bob, that’s why.”

Bob remained silent.

John checked his watch “We need to go.” He looked at the man standing in his tux. “Bob, if you’re doing this-”

“How long?” Bob suddenly asked. “How long have I been this fucking stupid?”

The three other men looked at each other. “Longer than you think,” Alexei spoke up.

—•—

You begged Yelena and Ava if you could sit at the back, out of sight and out of mind. “I’ll stay with her,” Yelena told Ava. “You wait for the guys at the front and let them know we are here.” Ava nodded, giving you a quick hug before going to the front seats. You sat down, shaking on the spot. Yelena reached out and held your hand “You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.” She quietly said, you held her hand tighter.

You saw Bob enter the church, looking almost frantic with the boys bursting in behind him. The minister gripped onto Bob and virtually dragged him down the aisle. Bob’s head was snapping from side to side trying to find you in the sea of people. “Sir- I’m sorry I-”

“She’s about to walk down the aisle, she’s been waiting and ain’t happy,” he told him in a hushed tone and placed him on the alter, waving his hand to prompt the wedding march tune to play.

Your whole body ached seeing him in his tux, seeing him looking almost…lost?

His fiancé came floating down the aisle, Yelena snorted and your eyes were ripped away from the yards of puffy fabric that made up her dress. “She looks like an overfilled cream puff.” Your friend commented. You wanted to laugh, but the feeling of dread consumed you too much for you to even crack a smile.

She reached the end and stood next to Bob who opened his mouth to speak, to let her know that he couldn’t go through with it.

She shushed him with a forced smile. “Don’t speak.” She chided. “We need to look candid for the cameras right now.” She flashed them a smile.

Bob looked down at her hands, the ring he felt obliged to buy to make her happy staring right back at him. The first ring was back in his bedside drawer at the tower, he thought it was perfect, but it was then he realised nothing he would have done would have ever been truly good enough. He’d spend all his life with her feeling like that. Lord knows he heard the words ‘bigger’, ‘better’, ‘more’, enough times throughout the wedding planning process to solidify his worries.

He just wish he saw them sooner.

His fiancé took Bob’s hand and you couldn’t bear the sight any longer. “I thought I could do this, Yelena, but I can’t. I really can’t.” Your voice was breaking, Yelena tried pulling you back “I need to leave,” you said and stood up, holding your peace for long enough.

All eyes locked on you almost horrified. Aside from one pair of eyes that looked at you with hope.

You ran out of the packed space, gasping for air the second you got outside. You called for a taxi with tears down your cheeks.

Bob ran out after you, the room filling with gasps and also shrieks from his jilted fiancé. He just had to get to you.

Yelena, Ava, John, Alexei and Bucky all followed with smiles on their faces. “He’s realised?!” Yelena asked.

“Better late than never!” John added.

They found Bob looking like a deer in the headlights trying to find you. “Guys, I’m so sorry!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m such an idiot!”

Yelena snorted “Yeah, you are.” She said and placed her hand on his shoulder “But there’s no time for that. Let’s get your girl.”

“Where could she have gone?” John asked.

Alexei had the same sinking feeling in his stomach the night he found you in the gym. “I know.”

—•—

With each punch you screamed louder, each scalding hot tear burning your face. The punchbag was hanging by almost a thread. Your hair askew, your dress crumpled and your makeup was a mess.

“Y/N?” You stopped mid-punch. His voice sending goosebumps over your skin.

You turned round as you caught your breath. Nether of you spoke for a moment that felt far too long. “What are you doing here?” You asked. “Shouldn’t you be putting on a wedding band right about now?”

“No, I shouldn’t have even got close to that point.” He said, tentatively stepping closer, his top button open and his bow tie completely undone. “I shouldn’t have let it go so far. I should have seen the signs.” Bob reached out for you, his hand open for yours. “She didn’t love me, I couldn’t see that, not until yesterday.” He lowly spoke. “I couldn’t see who really loved me.”

You swallowed hard, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand that remarkably wasn’t overly injured. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I know,” he walked closer. “I know and for that I-” he looked at you, his lips curving into a smile as he said the words he didn’t realised he been keeping under lock and key until he said them. “I love you.”

Your sad expression changed into one of shock. Those words you longed to hear. They almost deafened you.

Then your lips curved upwards. “Can you say it again?” You stepped forward this time, your hand finally reaching for his open one.

Bob let out a watery giggle, his eyes filling with tears. “I love you,” he repeated before yelling at the top of his lungs. “I LOVE Y/N!”

The team cheered from behind the wall and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bob,” you whispered his name, he pulled you in. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward and kissed you, the team further erupting into more cheers.

“Sorry I took so long,” he murmured against your lips.

You smirked “You were worth the wait.”

[orionhelluvaranting]

My Predictions for Helluva Boss

Alright, guys, not gonna lie... I'm tired from HB! Protagonist-centered morality, favoritism, lack of stakes, Stolass' endless woobification, etc... It has become too much for me. Thus I've gave up any hopes for the writing improvement and refused to watch the show in the long run.

But!

This won't stop me from analysing the previous episodes that I've already watched. Furthermore, I wanna make a few predictions about what's going to happen in the next two seasons (unless those will be cancelled). Perhaps I'll repeat some of the points other critics had already made. So I'm sorry in advance for this, mates.

Now be careful, there's a HUGE list under the cut! 🔮

⋆˙˖⟡°˖⟡˙ {Predictions} ˙⟡˖°⟡˖˙⋆

None of the main cast is dead. The plot armor is too strong. Especially for Stolass. I mean, do you genuinely believe that Viv would kill her precious sad bean?! Bitch, please! 🤗

All/most of the antagonists are dead. The only exception I can think about is Cherubs. They're just too unthreatening to bother about. Prolly the D.H.O.R.K.S are dead but reborn in Hell and Idk if that counts or not 💀⚰️

If the rumors about one of the Deadly Sins' upcoming death are true then it's going to be Mammon. No other options 💸 (Btw I saw a fan theory about Blitzø killing Mammon and taking his place... Well, considering how poorly Viv handles the class problem I wouldn't be surprised if that came true)

F!zzarozz!e get married (S3) 💞 - 100% probability

Stol!tzø get married (S4, finale) 💞 - 100% probability

M&M became parents. Honestly I thought they'll save it for the end but after Sinsmas... Yeah. Anyway the truth about Millie's pregnancy is revealed (nearly to the middle of S3), she gives a birth for pro-lifers' delight and takes maternity leave becoming a background character. The child prolly is a boy and gets a better development than his mother. Apparently he's named Blitzø Junior or smth like that 👨‍👩‍👧

F!zzarozz!e & Stol!tzø double date💕

Moxxie's insecurity issue is showed at least once at the season. Now he isn't sure about himself being a good father/protector/role model for his son 💪

Loona shows her human disguise at least once at the season. Doesn't really matter if there's no logical reason for that 🐺➡️👩

More sappy sad ballads performed by Stolass 🎵

I.M.P. continue murdering people and not giving a fuck about morality (Sinsmas was the only act of mercy) OR they leave the business and fully go for Stol!tz soap opera (not like they haven't done that already- but hey! there's always room for degradation, right?) 📉

Stolass succeeds at the dime novels writing 📜✍️

Carnal hyper-sensual coitus between Stolass and Blitzø appears on-screen. Correct me if I'm wrong but I remember Viv expressed her desire to animate an intimacy act, so I have zero doubts these two are involved. It can't be anyone but them 🤢

Octavia forgives Stolass the moment she finds out about Stella's abusive nature. And since Stella's confirmed as a "stupid cow" the truth's revealed in the dumbest way possible. I wouldn't be surprised if Stella spilled the beans by herself 🤦‍♀️

Blitzø boosts his connection with Stolass the moment he finds out about Stella's abusive nature. After all we've got a sex out of pity, so why wouldn't we got a love out of pity as well? 🤡

Possibly Striker/Stella had been a thing at a certain time. Why? Because ✨fanservice✨ of course! And yes, it's going to be as dull, flat and out of nowhere as Cherr!snake. Or maybe worse 🙁

Stella's backstory turns out like the "she was born evil so don't you dare to sympathise with her" full edition. There is no valid motivation, no intriguing conflicts, no nuances - none of that. There is only Stolass' woobification arc. So this backstory isn't about Stella. It's revolved mainly around Stolass, maybe around Andrealphus or Vassago at the least. Granted that Stella ever had a chance to receive a decent backstory for herself Vivienne would've thrown it away right in the next episode without mentioning it ever again 😭

Actually Mammon can't play the guitar 🎸 He's just too dumb and untalented for this (according to Vivienne). Don't expect an epic villain song from him. I'd be happy to be wrong about this one but my hopes are dead

More fatphobic jokes toward Mammon 👎

Stolass' in drag. Just no comments 💄👠

Love triangle between Stolass, Blitzø and Vassago. At one point, Stolass leaves Blitzø because he doesn't satisfy his wet dreams well enough. Vassago and Stolass have complete mutual understanding and the idyll but Stolass feels smth isn't right. Smth is missing, smth like… Meanwhile Blitzø suffers and seeks Stolass' mercy. Eventually Stolass comes back to Blitzø because 💖 ~ they belong together ~ 💖

Perhaps after the breakup between Stolass and Vassago the latter will get together with Andrealphus 💘

Millie & Moxxie or Fizz & Ozzie giving romantic advices to Blitzø / helping him improve the relationship with Stolass 💝

Barbie Wire forgives Blitzø in her next appearance and then moves away from the plot without a trace 💨

Sapphic bait 💗 Verosika/Barbie Wire? Barbie Wire/Sallie May? Sallie May/Verosika? All of them together? I don't know! But I do know Viv would rather escape from being accused of wlw underrepresentation. Since she has promised S3 is going to be "a queer roller coaster" she would need to dilute her sausage party a bit. And of course the lesbian ship (whichever it would be) is poorly developed.

New unnecessary characters for celebrity VA's ⭐

Stolass was kidnapped... again?! Yes, Striker abducted him before but... Why wouldn't do this one more time? After all the stans love presenting Viv's auto-plagiarism as meaningful "symbolic parallels". Besides kidnapping is one of the most beloved tropes in fanfiction. And HB is an animated fanfic for sure ⛓

More shitty dads/exes? Because Viv adores reusing the same tropes over and over again 💩

"Positive" characters keep being justified and woobified infinitely 😇 while villains are losing all their charisma and braincells from episode to episode 😈

Nobody will ever remember that Stolass harassed Blitzø 🙈

Nobody will ever remember that Ozzie allows succubi to enter the mortal realm and seduce humans by hypnotic songs (which doesn't sound pro-consent, does it, Mr. Lust-Is-Not-About-Force?) 🙉

Nobody will ever remember that Queen Bee runs shelters (which are essentially slave trade hellholes) in terrible conditions 🙊

Stolass' "depression" is brought up occasionally as a reason to justify and pity him. Stolass' immediately healed by Stella's death. Right after that the depression has disappeared completely. Therapy sessions aren't required. Even if the therapy is shown then only as a lame joke 🌧

Stolass brings his powers back because he's out... for LOOOOoOHoOOOHoOOVE!!! 💓💃🏻

Stolass gets everything he ever wanted without any efforts and self-improvement. Because he's good enough already and everyone who disagree is just stupid and mean 🏆

Aaaaaaaand that's all! My forecast: at least 80% of these predictions will come true one way or another. And what do you think? Maybe you have your own ideas? Please share those in the comments/reblogs! It'd be cool if someone made a bingo based on all this. It definitely wouldn't be me because today I'm identifying myself as a lazy ass. Bye-bye! 👋😊

[zepskies]

What Does "Supporting Writers" Mean? ✍️

Apparently it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow writers, I truly appreciate you for bringing me joy, making me smile on rough days, and giving me my weekly/daily dose of escapism and warm fuzzies. (Shoutouts to you personally below.) 💓💓

But what does it mean "practically" to appreciate your favorite writers, especially on Tumblr?

For example, I know some fanfic authors are starting to block "serial likers": people who'll go through someone's entire masterlist and hit the "like" button on 20-something stories without commenting or basic reblogging.

While I think blocking them is extreme, I understand the authors' frustrations. I've actually been asked if I'll ever leave Tumblr, since many of them have dropped off over the past few months, or even the past few years.

I'm still here for two very important reasons:

I love to write about my favorite characters. I write primarily because I love it, not just for the kudos.

I'm friggin' blessed to have a lot of friends and lovely readers on here and Ao3 who support me immensely on my writing and on this blog in general. I love and appreciate each and every one of you! Which is why I do my best to reply to your comments and reblogs. 💖💖

Of course, there are many reasons why a writer might take a break or stop writing entirely, but one of those reasons is also why the #supportwriters tag exists...

And why you'll see us include banners like this on our posts:

(Credits: cafekitsune, me, inklore)

That being said, here's my own rule of thumb on how I try to support my fellow writers when I read something I enjoy:

If I "liked" something, it means I had the time to read a story all the way through and I enjoyed it! (Or I'm bookmarking it for later in the day lol)

If I have the time to read it, I have the time to leave a comment on what I liked the most about it.

If I have the time to write out a comment (anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), I typically put that comment in a reblog -- maybe even add a gif or two for ✨razzle dazzle.✨ That way I can share it with the rest of my followers, so they can see it and hopefully enjoy it too...

Why? Because Tumblr isn't TikTok or IG. Reblogging is the best way to help a post gain traction on Tumblr. The algorithm doesn't care much about likes.

But on a more human level, supporting writers is just the basic thing of -- if you enjoyed something you read (that a writer shared for free), just let them know what you liked about it.

Remember that there's a person behind the content you enjoy. They might have been working on that story for weeks or months, or even years before they got the courage to post it.

They might really be putting themselves out there, writing about a topic or subject matter that they're not sure people will even like or engage with.

Maybe they're exploring something new, like a character or trope they've never written before.

Maybe they're expressing part of themselves that they haven't even told another living soul.

Maybe they just wanted to write something fun and smutty or angsty or fluffy and want to share the escapism with you.

Whether they've been writing for years or are just starting out, any and all is valid.

For me, as a writer and a reader, supporting my fellow writers often means supporting my friends. And 9 times out of 10, the way we became friends was by leaving feedback on their work and asking them questions, or responding to their awesome feedback on mine.

If you want a little jumpstart on how to leave feedback, whether encouraging or constructive, here's an awesome post about it (not mine).

Shoutout to some of my favorite writers 💞:

(In no particular order)

@waynes-multiverse @luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @thatonewriter15 @rizlowwritessortof

@waywardxwords @tofics @kaleldobrev @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings

@jawritter @deanwinchesterswitch @justagirlinafandomworld @ravengirl94 @waywardxwords

@spnbabe67 @deanwanddamons @ejlovespie @kittenofdoomage @venus-haze

@talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @jacklesbrainworms @artyandink @princessmisery666 (I just starting reading your stories, but I'm continuing with Samnesia soon!) -- and I'm sure many more! 💋

[trentcrimmlover]

✨ wip wednesday ✨

i have this doc that's just the missing scene in this fic where they actually have Totally Platonic Academic Sex For Anti-Rupert Reasons Of Course and idk if i'll ever finish it but there are some really funny parts so while the next chapter of lend you my lips continues to not be finished + i continue to work on The Balls Prompts, have this:

Okay, so, Ted is straight, but—

(Yeah, he hears it, okay, he knows any sentence that starts with those words is probably about to get gay as hell, but—just—hear him out.)

Ted is straight, but fucking Trent Crimm? Actually pretty damn fun.

It’s not that weird—friends have sex all the times, including male friends, including male straight friends—it’s just that Trent’s a special one. He’s excellent.

For one, he’s responsive—and Ted’s used to him bein’ a little twitchy, all skittish and jumpier than a hare, but apparently that translates in bed to him bein’ noisy as hell, and reactive, and just—sensitive. And Ted? Ted is into it. It means he knows exactly what Trent likes, what makes him feel good, what Ted’s doing well; and it also means he gets to hear those beautiful little noises Trent’s making, seeing the beautiful expressions that twist and flicker over his handsome features. There’s the satisfaction—he’s making Trent sound like that, he’s making Trent Crimm scream—and then there’s just the fondness, the affection, the familiarity of getting to know Trent, his friend, so intimately.

And for another thing, he’s handsy, affectionate, touching Ted back and breathless praise falls from his lips like water and he grasps at Ted’s sides, his back, pulls him in, pulls him closer, pulls himself closer. He wants Ted, that much is obvious, he’s just—plainly desperate to be touched, held, taken care of; to do the same in turn. He’s so earnest in his desire, and it makes something burn low in Ted’s belly, simmering and smooth and coiling—Trent wants him, Trent thinks he’s attractive and—Trent trusts him, Trent’s under him and loving it; Trent’s leaning up to kiss him eagerly, mouth open and breath shaky with need. Ted can give this to him, and Ted’s wanted here, wanted—

[galvanizedfriend]

Fic Update: Speed Dating [4/4]

Roomates!AU. Friends to lovers. Rom-Com Vibes. AH/AU Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve. (That's how it starts, anyway) --

Caroline doesn't see Elijah again for the next two days. Whatever has brought him to town, he either glides through the apartment like a ghost or their schedules are totally at odds. If not for the extravagantly tailored wool coat hanging by the door and what Caroline has quickly learned is a very distinctive brand of grumpiness on Klaus, she might have thought he'd already left.

Fate seems to be sparing her the embarrassment of coming face to face with him again after that first encounter, and it's probably for the best. But curiosity gnaws at her like an unscratchable itch. Elijah has intrigued her for years, far more than any of Klaus' other siblings. Finally putting a face - well, a little more than a face - to the name was satisfying, but it has fueled her desire to know more.

The Mikaelsons carry an enigmatic allure, a heady mix of glamor and mystery that is equal parts magnetic and intimidating. Despite living with one and being friends with another, the family remains a riddle to Caroline. The more she learns, the murkier it gets. It's maddening. Nothing about them makes sense. Caroline can't even decide if they have a deep dislike for each other or love one another to unhealthy degrees.

After two days, though, she's just about lost hope of bumping into Elijah again. She doubts he'll be staying for much longer, especially with Klaus' cordial show of hospitality. Not that Elijah seemed bothered - being caustic to siblings for no apparent reason seems to be one of those things that are normal by Mikaelson standards. It's just how they operate.

She is mindlessly scrolling through Instagram after yet another grueling shift at the hospital, waiting for the microwave to deliver her sad leftover dinner. Her feed is embarrassingly weak. It's been ages since she even posted anything new. Her last photo was taken on a night out with Tyler, for crying out loud. Should she even keep it there? What's the proper etiquette for when you break up with someone for no earth-shattering reasons, the relationship just fizzling out and running its course? Is it rude to delete all evidence of him from her social media? Is it expected? Would he even care?

Has he deleted her from his feed?

Come to think of it... Is Tyler even seeing anyone? Read the final chapter here

--

Can't believe I'm starting out my years by actually finishing something. 🤧 After 100 years of pain, it's finally done. If anyone still remembers what this is, I hope you enjoy it! Beware of the smut! As always, your comments/kudos/reblogs are very much appreciated and help to feed the monster who should be working but is writing fic instead. Happy 2025, folks! ✨

[itsnotamatterofif]

YEEEEEESSS I live for steamer/freight family. Slick is very definitely the rogue sibling that no one can control but they don’t half worry about. Have a little scene between her and Rusty

✨Want a stex mini fic? Send me an ask!✨

Once again, Slick is in a ditch.

It's not even a nice ditch. Usually when she's pissed off an engine enough to be thrown off the train she's left at a station or a delivery yard, but being ditched in the middle of track following a scam on a particularly cantankerous engine isn't exactly uncommon. At least this ditch is pretty close to a town, so she should be able to hang on the back of a passerby without a problem, but it's just annoying; she was this close to taking a good bet from him about a race she'd rigged for next week, and if he hadn't recognised her at the last minute she would have been a hundred and fifty pounds richer.

With a huff, she squats near the tracks, scuffing  at the rocks and pebbles with the brake plate of her boots. She'd probably be home in the next ten minutes if that fucker hadn't gotten all grumpy about it, but now she's stuck here, reading the graffiti that lines the walls of the bridge up ahead. If she was a bit more daring, she could probably attempt to make it home herself, but someone finding her passed out on the tracks is infinitely more embarrassing than actually having to ask for a lift, so in her spot she stays. Thankfully it's a nice day, and it's not raining as long as that grey looking cloud stays where it is, so the waiting game it is.

Within five minutes she's bored of looking at clouds, and within ten she's bored of kicking her feet in the rocks. It's not like this is a quiet line, quite the opposite usually, but apparently Sunday timetables have decided to kick her ass today. There's a faint sound in the distance, a reverberation along the rails, but it seems far off as Slick sits uncomfortably on the pebbled floor with a grumble.

The rumble gets louder, the rails clattering slightly, and Slick perks up. Sounds like whoever it is is going fast, but that shouldn't be a problem, she's had plenty of years experience of jumping at the right moment to cling onto the back of whoever is going past. Hopefully it's a diesel, hopefully it's not Greaseball-

As the engine gets closer, the sound changes. Rhythmic in its movement with distinct push and pull, Slick feels whatever hope she had drain away as she looks out to the eastwards track and sees a plume of steam shooting up over the treetops. It's ain't Momma, that's for sure - she hardly ever leaves the yard these days - and as the distinct scream of a whistle echoes across the tracks, she rolls her eyes and kicks the dirt again.

Of course, it had to be Rusty.

There's no time to hide as he turns the corner onto the straight that she's stuck on, hurtling along the track whilst Slick prepares for the inevitable one hundred questions he's going to ask. Looks to be just him today, no coaches or trucks trailing behind him; it's almost strange to see him without Porter at the very least, as if he looks top heavy or slightly unbalanced with just his own bunker, but she's sure there's a good reason. Rusty is one of those people who has an excuse for everything no matter the situation, which pisses her off to no end.

By the time Rusty spots her and slams on the breaks, it's too late for him to stop in front of her, stuck on the side of the tracks as he hurtles past with a screech. The heavy sound of pistons and blazing fire kicks up as his wheels slowly spin backwards, almost painfully slow as he rolls back to her; it's kind of funny in a way, watching him try and reverse when she knows just how much effort it takes for him to get started once he's stopped, but it doesn't seem to bring him down. As she folds her arms and rolls her eyes impatiently, Rusty finally stops within reach, apologetic smile etched on his face as he reaches to let out a billow of steam awkwardly.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Slick," he says, voice laced with surprise, "I thought you were on shift with that visiting diesel, what happened?"

"Pissed him off," she answers brashly, huffing out an annoyed breath, "apparently he couldn't stand the sight of me for ten more minutes just to get me home, so the asshole uncoupled."

It's not the whole truth, and she knows Rusty knows that from the slight raise of his eyebrow as he purses his lips in thought.

"Well, you ought to hop on then." He straightens his back, scooting forwards slightly so that she can hitch up. "I'm heading back to the yard, if you can cope with being stuck to a steamer, that is."

He sticks his tongue out in jest as Slick rolls her eyes and clambers back onto the tracks.

"Good fuckin' thing it's only for ten minutes then," she argues, rolling her eyes again - riding with Rusty is never ideal, she hates the stink of coal smoke and ash that settles into her armour when she gets stuck on a train with him, but right now it's either hitch up or sit down. It barely takes a minute before the sound of Rusty's pistons pumping echos along the track again, and, albeit very slowly, they're away.

"So, what did you do this time?" Rusty asks after a minute or so of awkward silence, "insurance fraud? Revenge hit-?"

"None of your fuckin' business," Slick snaps back, and annoyingly she knows the exact expression of mock surprise that Rusty is wearing without seeing his face.

"Just thought I'd ask in case-"

"Well don't," she hisses, and crouches to hide behind him slightly as a bigger train speeds past, "what are you doing out on your own?"

"Orange Flash broke down at Leamington, so Control asked me to take the repair truck over since I didn't have anything scheduled for today," Rusty explains easily, no hint of any frustration found which frustrates Slick in turn, "dropped them off about an hour ago, and then they can ride home with Flash once they're fixed - good thing I took the job, how else were you planning to get home?"

He says that like there was a chance he wasn't going to accept the run, which makes Slick frown a bit in thought; it's no secret to anyone that Rusty has been getting less and less jobs following some new financial directive putting more focus on the newer diesels, and his frame is looking distinctly worse for wear in the gloomy afternoon sun, whole flakes of rust visible from where she can see. It must be painful, judging from how much Momma complains about it when she hasn't been cleaned for weeks, but if it is, Rusty doesn't say anything.

"Dunno," she answers as Rusty draws to another stop at a set of signals up ahead, "I'm pretty good at hitchhiking-"

Rusty hums, equal parts concerned and unimpressed. "That's dangerous, Slick, what if you missed and got hurt or the engine threw you off?"

"Hasn't happened yet," she grumbles - she’s a really on a short fuse from being dumped, if Rusty wants tell her how to live her life he can shove it, "I can handle myself - I don't need a second Momma, Rusty, I knew I'd get a godamn lecture from you-"

The lights flick green, and Rusty shrinks away, shoulders hunching slightly as his pistons begin to push; if they were face to face he probably would be walking away by now, Rusty’s not one for blow-up arguments with her.

“I know,” he mutters, barely audible over the hissing of his engine, “I just worry about you sometimes.”

She clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Then don’t.”

“Trust me, I try not to,” he argues back, and there’s a sudden bit of fire in his voice that she wasn’t expecting - Rusty stopped arguing with her a long time ago, having learned any argument with her was a lost cause, but apparently picked today to break the habit, “I’d rather not think about you mangled somewhere because you’ve pissed off the wrong engines, but at least, I dunno’, let someone know if you’re planning on pissing someone off on the rails? Even if it’s not me, either Lumber or Porter, then if something goes wrong they can get help for you-“

“Control would have sent someone out eventually, Rusty, chill-“

“What if they didn’t, though, or you were hurt?” There’s a distinct clack of his jaw snapping shut, steel hitting steel as he squares his jaw in frustration. “I ain’t trying to be Momma, she’d tell you to stop fuckin’ about completely, I just think if the folks you target can dump you in the middle of the tracks without a concern, what else would they be happy to do once they find what you’ve planned for them?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that.

The yard station looms before them as Rusty pulls into one of the side sheds, the one nearest the freight yard. Blessedly, it’s empty, and as Rusty slows to a stop, Slick can’t help but jump off the tracks as soon as possible.

Reaching round to a small pouch on her external tank, she pulls out a few notes, shifting through them as Rusty sorts himself out and chills his firebox back out for resting.

“Oi, steamer,” she calls - why is she nervous about this? - as Rusty’s head snaps around, “next time you’re in Birmingham, take this to a maintenance engineer called Amal, he’ll get you cleaned up.”

Rusty’s eyes widen for a second as he wheels over, looking between her and the pound notes. “I’m- I’m fine, Control said they’re getting someone in next quarter-“

“And you know as well as I do that that skimping bastard isn’t maintaining you and Momma anymore,” Slick interrupts, grabbing his hand to stuff the notes into whether he wants them or not, “you’re on a freight run on Saturday, right? Ask him then, before your creaking gets bad enough to wake the whole yard up.”

As Rusty’s hand closes around the notes reluctantly, she spins on her break plate. Rusty’s a sentimental bastard at the best of times, if he starts trying to give the cash back or thanking her for it she might just lose it again. Behind her, she can already hear Rusty stammering, and can’t help but laugh slightly at his predictability.

Maybe she’ll just let him know next time she tries something big.

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | meet cute, part 2

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 9.5k words; joel takes you on your first date, and it doesn't end up like he'd planned. not that either of you seem to mind, of course. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, relationship/dynamic not established yet like the other chapters, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader is a little bratty in this chapter, talks of brat punishment, sub/dom relationship, dirty talk, pet names for reader, joel is so fucking handsy here i am Feral, minor bits of angst (reader backstory stuff) a/n: welp apparently i am incapable of writing a short chapter for these two right now >< i'm really loving the way that pretty wife started out a bit bratty and has this pipeline to being joel's good little wife it's kinda doing something for me

You don’t know if your heartbeat could get any louder, nearly drowning out the trill of the line ringing in your ear. You’re moments away from speaking to your mystery man from the bar again, to Joel, who’d seemed intent on changing the entirety of your life with one single fuck in a bar bathroom.

“Hello, Miller Contracting,” a deep voice lumbers out on the other end, sounding nearly clinical with the greeting. You have no doubt it's Joel - his voice feels too recognizable, the deep richness of it combined with his Texas twang that had you absolutely swooning last night. You will your lips to part, for words to rush out, but you pause, trying to get the lump out of your throat.

“Uh - Joel?” you croak out.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly. You picture him at a desk somewhere, sorting through papers, or working on a construction site, his muscles bulging out his shirt and you’re temporarily lost to the fantasy. “What can I do for you?”

“I-it’s me -” you say, repeating your name to him. “From last night…” you add on.

He laughs, a deep rumble in the phone, and your heart lifts what feels like miles within your chest. “Yeah, from last night, didn’t need to clarify, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry. I’m Nervous,” you say simply, wringing your hands together on your lap.

“Now hang on a second, how’d you get this number? Don’t recall givin’ it out,” Joel says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. The fact that he seems eager to talk to you, tease you, immediately dissipates the nervousness you’d had about calling him. 

“Er, I’m persistent, that’s all I’ll say,” you tell him with a flush of your cheeks.

“Well, if I’m honest, I’m happy as hell to hear from ya,” Joel says. You feel your eyebrows twitch and mouth part in surprise.

“You are?” You wish you didn’t sound so desperately surprised by the fact, but the words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.

“Felt like a damn idiot, forgettin’ to get your number last night. Not how a gentleman should act.” You can practically visualize Joel shaking his head at himself and running a hand through his hair on the other end.

“And you think you acted like a gentleman otherwise?” You smirk and bite your lip, already feeling a tingling in your limbs, a slow, swirling pool of arousal sinking deep into your gut.

Joel chuckles and makes a small humming sound. “Maybe not, but it got you callin’ me, didn’t it?”

You laugh heartily and agree with a sultry “mm-hmm.”

“So listen, I knew if I ever got to speak to you again, I wanted to… uh-” Joel clears his throat, and you can hear a slight wobbling, like he’s nervous. “See if I could take you on a proper date.”

“Oh really, a date? Not just a bar bathroom this time?” you ask, trying to quell a little bit of your excitement, play it cool around him. You’re having a hard time believing that he’d want to take you out, for some reason. This past year or so has been a slew of failed dates, refusals to call back, men telling you one reason or another you no longer interested them. This tended to happen after they’d already gotten something from you, which had only served to make you feel worse about the entire thing. You tried not to let it get to you, but really, you were craving to be loved, to be seen for who you were and loved for it. That was something you hadn’t gotten enough of in your life.

“Now listen, if you’re gonna be like that, maybe I don’t need t’take you out, do I?” Joel teases, and the tingling in your core intensifies, your legs rubbing together just at the low drawl of his voice prodding at you.

“I’d love to, Mr. Miller,” you say coyly, and you hear a sharp hiss of breath from Joel’s end.

“Little shit,” he mumbles.

“What’s that?” you lick your lips and fight the urge to twirl your hair, the feeling of getting him so riled up just over the phone giving you a perverse little twinge of satisfaction.

“Fuck, I need to see you again,” he nearly groans, and you’re unsure if he’d even meant the words for you to hear, so low and quiet. ”Dinner this Friday, then?” Joel asks you, and you bite your lip and scrunch your face up in excitement, knowing he can’t see you.

“It’s a date.”

Joel picks you up that Friday at 6:30, a bit of a sweating, anxious mess after fussing over your makeup and outfit for the last two hours. You end up landing on a white, frilly mini dress with a corset top, knowing your tits are on perfect display for him. A devious huff of laughter leaves you when you reach into your underwear drawer and dig out your sheer white over the knee stockings with a lace trim at the top and slide them up your legs. Maybe you are in the mood to be a bit of menace for him tonight, you think to yourself. The thought of Joel’s eyes practically falling out of his head when he sees you in this makes you smile and nearly squeal with delight as you put your finishing touches to your outfit with accessories and a touch up of your shimmery lip gloss.

When you bound outside of your apartment building, you can see a nearly pained expression on Joel’s face through the windows of his blue truck, pulled up right in front of your building. You hear the clicking of your little heels on the pavement, giving you a boost of confidence as you stride towards him, feeling your hair bouncing behind you.

You feel… fucking hot. And you know it’s partly because of who you know is going to be looking at you all night. Joel takes too long to stare and enjoy the view of you walking over before he’s scurrying out of his truck to reach you and grab the car door. 

“Evenin’,” he says, clearing his throat and you notice he seems a bit more quiet and shy in the light of day. He seems almost dazed, trying to take in as much of you as he can in just a few seconds, blinking as he processes just how tiny everything you’re wearing is.

“Got you these,” he says, holding out a small bouquet of flowers full of different pastel flowers and greenery. You can tell he put some thought into it, that he didn’t just pick a random bouquet and roll with it, and it makes you smile. 

“Thank you,” you say, studying the flowers for an extra beat. “Such a gentleman,” you coo as you step past him and start to climb into the seat. He huffs a little as you pass and shoots his hand out to grab your wrist, a tight hold as he yanks you back towards him. He doesn’t waste a second before pulling you flush with him, pressing the tops of your tits further out of your dress and onto his chest, covered in a button up shirt. His hand splays along the small of your back, rough and warm, seeping through the fabric of your dress. He leans down, capturing your lips with his.

“Not gonna give me a proper hello, were you?” he rasps once he pulls away. “Thought you were a polite girl.”

Your lips part and spread into a little smile as you lick your lips. “Sorry,” you say, putting your eyes down to the pavement for a moment before lifting them back up to his and cupping his face, raking your fingers through his beard and leaning back in for a soft, chaste kiss. “There’s your hello.”

“Mhm” Joel mumbles before he takes your hand in his, guiding you into his truck where you settle in, wrapping the seatbelt around yourself and watching him walk back around the front of the truck to the drivers side, admiring the way his button up hugs his broad form. 

When he sits down, instead of starting the truck he just looks over at you, drinking in your show of skin, hungry glances all over your body until his gaze lands on your tits, the swells of your breasts heaving slightly as you breathe nervously now that you’re alone with him. 

“You look like a goddamn angel, or somethin’,” he finally says, flicking his eyes to the tops of your stockings, and you notice his jaw set tightly while his hands clench in his lap. He softens a little once he looks at your face, amused eyes looking back into his. “Beautiful,” he adds, and you beam at him, twirling a bit of your hair around one of your fingers.

“Thank you,” you say shyly, leaning a little closer to him, knowing your cleavage is only being pushed together that much more at this angle in your seat. “You want me to be your little angel, Joel?”

“Christ…” he says under his breath, reaching his hands up to grip the steering wheel, knuckles going white with the strain of it. “Think you already seem to know the answer.”

“Well, I’ll take it you like my outfit, then. I picked it out special for you,” you tell him cheerfully, flouncing the skirt of your dress in your lap a bit. 

“Sure do,” he says quickly, starting the car, seeming to need to high tail it out of here before he completely ditches the dinner reservation to have his way with you. You opt to just watch Joel drive, observing his profile with a small, thoughtful smile. You see his brows twitch as he feels your stare on him, and he turns to the side while he’s stopped at a red light, giving you a closed lip smile.

“Did you just ask me on a date because you felt bad?” you ask suddenly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Felt bad?” Joel asks, turning his eyes back to the road. 

“For what happened the other night.”

Joel huffs in the seat next to you, his head shaking the smallest bit. “You think I felt bad about any of that? What gave you that idea, now?”

“I… I don’t know. I was just surprised you still wanted to take me out after…” you trail off, glancing out the window to try and avoid your own spiraling thoughts.

“C’mon, doll, need to give me more than that. If you don’t wanna be here you gotta say.”

“No!” you cry out a little too loudly.

“If you just need to hear me say that I liked fuckin’ your tight little pussy or whatever gets you off, just say it, yeah? Don’t need these roundabout questions like a little brat,” Joel snips, and you swallow hard, realizing he’s gotten the complete wrong idea.

“N-no, nothing like that, Joel, I… I really want to be here, I really do. I guess I was worried,” you suck in a breath. “That you’d just be done with me after you got what you wanted. That’s what other guys have done. Older guys.” You can feel your voice getting mousier, quieting with your confession, afraid that the answer will be exactly what you’re afraid of. Joel’s expression softens, the lines between his brows letting up as his eyes lighten a bit.

“First off, I ain’t other guys, and I want you gettin’ that in your head right now, okay?” Joel says, glancing over to see you nodding small little bounces of your head, eyes wide. “Okay?” he asks again, a little more stern this time, reaching a hand over to grip your thigh.

“Okay.” 

“Good. An’ I ain’t even close to getting everything I want from you, probably never could be, so don’t wanna hear you say anythin’ like that again, got it?” His grip squeezes on your thigh, and you place your hand over it, covering his hand with your own.

Your mind spins, reeling with such a strong confession from him. You don’t know how it’s possible that after one night together, the both of you have something damn near unexplainable, something that’s been nestling itself deep into you since then. You tilt your head a little, giving him a soft smile, feeling all the worries you’d had this entire week start to melt away.

“Got it,” you tell him with a stern nod, your hair falling over your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh a few times. They twitch and clamp together a bit with his praise, the familiar rush of arousal from the other night coming back to you when he used those same words. You catch Joel smirking out of the corner of your eye, the effect he had with those two simple words not lost on him. 

You can see his face steel, his jaw setting tighter as his fingers move up your thigh, unsticking from the bare flesh he’d been touching and climbing upwards.

“You dress like this a lot? Or just wanted to get a rise out of an old man, hm?” he asks, fingers digging into your plush skin a little harder.

You twist your lips into a thoughtful pout, knowing it shows off the shiny pink of your lip gloss a little better, and Joel’s eyes drift there for a brief moment when he glances at you. 

“Sometimes.” You give him an indifferent shrug. “Mostly wanted to see how you liked it.”

“I’ll bet you did,” Joel replies plainly, nearly sounding irritated, but you somehow know that he’s more angry with himself right now, barely able to keep his trembling hand from moving further up your thigh.

“I mean, I thought the stockings might be too much, but don’t you think they go just perfect with this dress?” You trill in an innocent tone to him, moving his hand to play with the lace edges at the top.

“Mmm,” Joel replies, lips pressed tightly together. His fingers bury themselves under the band of the stockings, pads of his calloused hands grazing the skin underneath. You try to hold back a shudder but it’s no use, Joel’s touch is fully electric, sending a zip of pleasure up your spine. 

Your legs spread open wider in the seat, inviting him to move higher and you let out a quieter moan and slide the hem of your dress up a bit higher. You’re warm all over, skin flushing as his hand creeps up towards the apex of your thighs. You admit you’re having even more fun than you thought teasing him. He’d done this same thing to you at the bar, sloppily kissing along your neck until you’d felt nearly insane with need for him, and it gives you a little pump of satisfaction to see him falling apart so quickly. 

“Even got…” you breathe out, “The matching panties on.” Another tiny little mewl slips out when Joel’s fingertips slide along your inner thigh, ever closer to where you know you’re already wet for him. He peers over to see your chest heaving a bit, curves looking so inviting - all it would take was one little tug and your tits would be spilling out, just as they had the other night, so pretty and just for him. 

“Fuck it,” Joel grunts out, tearing his hand away from you and pulling off to the side of the road, turning into a passing neighborhood and swinging the car into the closest driveway to turn around. “I live close by, we’re goin’ to my place right now,” he says. “Fuckin’ wearin’ this little shit to get me all worked up…” His voice is mumbling now, seemingly to angrily talk to himself as he keeps his eyes straight ahead, not looking at you. 

His face is going pink with the effort of holding back from you, grunting while he maneuvers the car and speeds off, booking it towards his house. Your mouth forms perfect O before it splits into a grin, knowing you got exactly what you wanted from him. Something about driving a man like Joel crazy - someone who seems reserved, in control of these kinds of situations, makes you feel a little spark of pride mixed with your dousing of arousal.

“Teach you some damn manners, that’s what I’m gonna do,” Joel mumbles quietly, letting out little sighs of irritation.

“J-joel…?” you ask carefully.

“Mm-mm, not a word right now. You’ve said enough.”

You clamp your lips together, knowing you maybe shouldn’t be as thrilled as you are right now, feeling like sparks are dancing across your skin, magnifying right where Joel holds you, squeezing to where it might leave a bruise tomorrow, as if to hold you down, keep you in this car with him.

“Please…” you whimper, unsure what you’re asking for, just knowing you’re growing more desperate to feel him on you, inside of you.

“Please nothin’. You’re gonna act like this, I’m gonna react accordingly, you got that?” Joel snips, veins on his forehead protruding as he drives along, unable to even look in your direction. You stay silent while he whips through a suburban neighborhood, finally pulling into his driveway. 

“Stay,” he spits out before exiting the car, coming over to your side and opening the door. 

“Thank you,” you coo sweetly, which gets a devious smirk from Joel. 

“You’re tryin’ to be good now, are you?” he scoffs, wrapping his hand around your upper arm. 

“Thought you liked fucking good girls,” you say with a sly smile, repeating his own words back to him. He chuckles low and deep in his chest before tugging you out of the car, keeping one hand on your arm and the other pressed on your lower back, guiding you to the front door. Instead of letting you step out of the way, he presses himself so that you’re between his body and the door as he reaches around to unlock it, keys clanking in his awkward position. 

You can feel him, hard and long, cock painfully erect and pressing against your ass. You fight the urge to grind into him, thinking that maybe he may not see that as something a good girl would do. Instead, you let a little whimper slip out when he digs into you deeper as he turns the nob and pushes the door in. 

“Gonna be makin’ a lot more of those pretty little noises soon, honey,” he says low, near your ear as he nudges you inside. It’s dark, only bits of the setting sun coming through the windows, and you fumble past the doorway, the only anchor you have is Joel’s hand on your back. 

He flicks a switch, illuminating the room with a dim floor lamp, and you can see that you’ve stepped into his living room. It’s modest but cozy, and definitely seems to ooze his busy, bachelor lifestyle with plain, somewhat mismatched furniture. You had to hand it to him, though, just upon first glance he seemed relatively clean, unlike some men’s places you’d visited. 

“This is a nice pl-“ you start, cut off by one of Joel’s arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you into him with a thud. Your back is tight against his chest now, his head burying near the crook of your neck. He’s kissing you urgently - every spot he can find, biting and sucking and flicking his tongue, all gentle but firm, full of an unrelenting passion and frustration.

He groans loudly, hand tracing up your chest to grasp at one of your tits, squeezing it firmly and running his finger over your nipple. Both are hard and aching for him, poking through the fabric of your dress with no bra holding them back. He sucks so hard on a spot on the side of your neck that you gasp and twitch in his hold. He chuckles, quickly soothing the spot with his tongue and lips. 

“Couldn’t wait for me to get my hands on you, is that it? Why you dressed like that, hopin’ I’d bring you back here? Say fuck the nice dinner reservation I made us?” he finally speaks, nearly growling in your ear.

“I just - I-“ you stutter, mind reeling from his warmth blazing into your skin now, his voice rumbling close to your ear, low and gritty and sounding… almost angry with you. You feel a tightening in your core, pooling between your legs and you already start to ache for him, turned on by the way he’s chastising you and covering you with marks. 

“You were such a good girl the other night for me, can you do that again? Or you want to keep bein’ a brat?”

“N-no I liked being good for you, remember?” you blurt out, chest heaving and body fighting the urge to squirm out of his arms and show him, get on your knees and finally get him in your mouth. 

“Didn’t seem to think so in the car… if I didn’t know any better you wanted me to punish you, fuck you fuckin’ dumb ‘til you submit to me. And the thing is, honey, I like my girls to be good f’me. Don’t wanna have to work for it unless I want to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just wanted to play around, make you a little crazy for me,” you say with a whine, your bottom lip starting to quiver. 

“C’mere, lemme see you,” Joel says, a quick grunt as he spins you around, catching you along your back with one hand, tilting your head up by the chin with the other. He takes in your wide, pleading eyes, plump lips turned into a frightened frown, and sighs. 

“S’okay, doll,” he says much softer, thumbing your chin and then stroking his fingers up your cheek. “Lucky for you I was in the mood to work for it a bit tonight, and you know why that is?”

You shake your head mutely, absolutely dumbstruck by his dark eyes narrowed and looking straight into yours. He’s so beautiful, so much more than you even remembered from the other night. It nearly sends an ache into your chest, just how perfect he is. 

“‘Cause you’re worth it, pretty girl. What kinda man would I be if I didn’t have to work for it a bit, hm?” His voice is changed, a bit more flexible, his tone coming off kinder now. You feel a surprised smile tugging at your mouth and you let it spread a bit, showing Joel that you’re pleased with what he said. 

“Show you how pretty you are…” he trails off, his eyes drifting down to your chest, where he’s watching your curves spilling out the top, your dress pulled down from the way he’d been touching you there. He tugs slowly on the fabric, pulling it so your tits are both spilling out, letting the neckline tuck underneath and press them upwards. 

He leans down to capture your lips in a softer kiss, letting your lips and tongues begin a gentle dance with each other. Joel’s fingers make their way under your dress, sliding the hem up to reach your ass, large palms splaying across both globes. He pulls you even closer, grinding you against his arousal and you groan, absolutely soaking for him, needing for him to touch you where you want him most. 

“Got your ass and tits out like a little whore for me now, don’t you? Like being my little whore?” he grits out, and you nod with a quiet mhm, lolling your head back as he places a few little bites on your neck. 

“Let me fuck you in that bathroom and comin’ home with me the first date ‘fore I can even buy you dinner,” Joel tuts, continuing to knead the plush flesh on your ass, stepping forward so that you have no choice but to walk backwards and further into the living room. He smacks your ass hard before rubbing the spot with a soothing touch. 

“Now get inside and take what you’ve been askin’ for, honey,” he says, stroking the side of your face gently. 

“W-where do you want me?” you ask timidly, looking into his chest before trying to meet his eyeline. He’s so intimidatingly in charge right now you can hardly meet his gaze, dark brown, nearly black in the dimness of the house. 

Joel seems to like your question, smirking and stroking your cheek again, calloused fingers sending a jolt of electricity that travels down your spine. “Good girl for askin’,” he coos, a flash of excitement in his eyes at your docility for him. He takes his hands to your shoulders, gently guiding you to stand in front of the couch. He turns and sinks back into the cushions, watching you stand in front of him, anxious with anticipation. 

“You gonna dress like a slutty little doll, I’m gonna treat ya like one and play with you as long as I want, yeah?” A quick, stunned nod from you before he continues. “Now take off that pretty dress,” he says, his tone deepening with the command. His eyes are glued to your chest where your tits are still popping out of the top, practically burning a hole in you with the intensity, heat creeping over your skin. You lift from the bottom, pulling it over your head in one slow movement, standing before Joel in only the skimpy lacy thong you’d chosen for tonight - white to match your dress and stockings. You reach to pull the stockings down and Joel shakes his head, eyes snapping to where your hands are. 

“Mm-mm, didn’t tell you to do that now, did I? Leave those on, doll. Panties next,” he drawls, and you follow his command, stepping out of your thong and leaving it on the floor beneath your feet. You take a nervous gulp, waiting for his next words, feeling right between your legs slickening even more as his eyes hungrily take you in. 

“C'mon over and sit right here,” Joel says, patting his lap. His words have an immediate effect, just like when he’d asked you to get on your knees at the bar, your body moving for him of its own accord. You pad over the few steps to him and settle yourself onto his lap so that you’re facing him, thighs on either side of his. Joel’s hands find your hips, holding you and stroking his thumbs along your bare skin there. There’s such a stark difference between the two of you right now - Joel, fully clothed, not even a button undone yet on his shirt, and you with the entirety of your body naked and exposed save for your stockings, sitting on top of him because he’d asked for it. All the fabric on your bare skin feels odd in the best way, like you’re doing something so wrong yet so right at the same time, like you’re Joel’s dirty little secret somehow with the way he has you in the palm of his hand right now.

He cocks his head a little, looking at you more seriously now. “Now listen, should’ve said this the other night, but you saw how I like to be in charge of things, right?” he says.

You nod. “Yeah,” you breathe out, just barely. You’re distracted by the feel of his broad, muscled body beneath you, his hard length pressing into you through his jeans. You feel your head swimming but you try to focus on his words.

“So tonight if it gets to be too much, if somethin’ is wrong, you gotta call out ‘red’ for me, mkay?”

You nod again. 

“Gonna need you to use your words, honey.”

“Yes, I got it. Red,” you repeat back to him, and the ghost of a smile comes to his lips. 

“Good girl,” Joel says, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing it. “Now…” he trails off, his grip tightening on you in an instant to flip you off of him and next to him on the couch cushions, his body following closely behind so that he’s on top of you. His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and tongue and teeth clashing and you moan into it with surprise, still trying to get your bearings from all the sudden movement.

He slips down your body, his lips trailing a hot, wet mess along the way as he sucks your neck, your tits, briefly swirling a tease of his tongue over one of your nipples before he finds his way between your legs. They fall open for him in your dizzied state and he takes no pause before burying his head there, licking fat stripe up your slit, groaning loudly at the taste of you. He licks the same pattern several times, relishing in all the slick arousal that was just for him, he thinks greedily.

When Joel starts to lap at your cunt in earnest, his tongue poking your entrance before flicking at your clit, repeating the motions over and over, you throw your head back, whining loudly and writhing down into his face and chasing your pleasure.

“F-fuck, I’m -” you whimper. “Joel I’m already gonna -” Your legs shake and he seizes one of your thighs into his palms before the other hand slips between your legs and swiftly buries two fingers inside of you, going deep to press against your g-spot. You’d thought endlessly about that feeling since the night with him in the bar, the way he’d been the first person to show you what you’d been missing, to bring you world ending pleasure when he split you open. You’re desperate for it again, knowing his fingers are enough, but you can’t help but picture the way his girth had stretched you, pressed into you so deeply that you already felt addicted to it.

When he pulls your clit into his mouth, pressing on the spongy part inside of you at the same time, you cry out, feeling your hips bucking into him, body taut and shaking as he pulls your orgasm out of you. His name spills from your lips as easily as anything you’ve ever said in your life, like you’ve been saying it for years and no other man has existed for you, could exist for you.

You slump back, breathless and wanting, a sheen of sweat coating your body from the intensity with which he’d rocked your reality, and you quickly realize he’s likely far from done with you tonight. It makes your stomach churn with anticipation, and you bring yourself back, focusing on the gentle touch of his lips on your sensitive nerves, peppering your pussy with little kisses, leading out to your thighs.

“Good fucking girl f’me, didn’t take long at all, did it?” he says wryly. 

“M-more…” you mumble, blinking your eyes to clear some of the post-climax fog you’re feeling, but it’s no use - Joel can see already how fucked out you are, barely even five minutes in. His heart swells with pride, excitement, the sick satisfaction of having you under his thumb, his to devour completely, body and soul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, finally meeting your desperate, soft lips with his. He’s on top of you, his body slithering over yours again, pressing against you. Your hands reach up and start to unbutton his shirt, hesitantly at first, but a small noise of approval from him urges you on, indicating that he’s okay with you making that decision. When he finally shrugs it off, you take a moment to pull yourself back from his kisses to gaze down at him, his bare chest revealed to you for the first time. You feel your sex ache as fresh arousal starts to drip out of you seeing the salt and pepper of the curls on his chest, his defined but still soft abdomen, so inviting and sexy. You start to feel nearly feral, your gut coiling tight with the need for him to fuck you again, to watch his perfect body relentlessly use you for his own pleasure.

“S-shit…” you manage to gasp out when you gingerly run a hand down his chest, letting your nails scratch through his hair, and Joel hums against you as his lips find your shoulder. You rake your fingers downwards, leading all the way to his happy trail where you leave your fingers to rest on his belt. He looks delighted at your visceral reaction to his body, never thinking much of it himself, the way it had gotten slightly doughy with age and his hair had already started graying. But seeing you see so much in it that he can feel your legs tighten underneath him, pussy likely fluttering just at the sight, makes his core twist in pleasure and his cock twitch.

He caresses your face gently, his touch soft despite the mischief growing in his eyes. “Don’t think you learned your lesson yet, bein’ such a brat in the car,” he says, letting you start to undo his belt. When his cock springs out, you nearly start again at how length and thick it is, nearly having forgotten just how stunning it was outside the confines of your memory. 

Joel notices your fresh reaction to his cock, the length of him twitching in anticipation to fuck you to pieces, to fuck you into being a good girl again. He can’t help but remember just how much it had shut you up to take his cock just a few nights ago, and he nearly whimpers at the memory alone. 

“N-no? Don’t think so?” you tease back, grinding yourself against his bare and freed cock and Joel responds first with a surly little growl, two of his fingers possessively gripping your chin. His eyes flash in a way that you think should scare you, but you can’t help but feel comforted by Joel’s presence nonetheless.

“Exactly what I’m talkin’ about, bratty little ass, y’are. And let me fill you in on somethin’ for your own good,” he drawls, running his thumb along your lower lip. Your breath is baited as your lips part in invitation to him and he doesn’t slip it inside, not yet, at least. He hikes your hip up with his other hand, angling you towards his body as he steps closer between your legs. “I don’t like brats, I want my girl to be nice ‘n good to me. Are you gonna be nice ‘n good to me, doll?” he says, finishing the thought.

You swallow hard. You don’t know how serious he is, if this is part of some bigger game of his, this dominance he likes to have. You feel a pull in your heart, like you find yourself agreeing with him, that the look he’d given you when he called you good girl and obedient the other night were exactly what you’d been seeking your entire life. There was something there, something to take pride in, that he thought you were doing good enough for him. You’d wanted to tease him tonight, sure, make sure he still thought you were beautiful and sexy, afraid you’d get left behind so quickly in the more than likely slew of women he could have interested in him. Joel’s version of sexy just happened to be someone submissive for him, and the way you’d felt being that for him the other night, so far tonight, it was exhilarating, like a part of you that you’d had no idea existed until now, until him.

“I don’t want to be a brat,” you say quietly, gazing up at him with delicate eyes now, having your decision made. You reach a hand down to his cock, practically pulsating with need for you, sitting so close to your warm heat as he hovers above you. You gently palm it, wrapping your hand around the shaft, admiring the fact that your fingers can’t even fit around the expansive girth of it.

“I want to be your good girl,” you breathe, and Joel’s eyebrow cocks before his thumb settles into your mouth as he groans a little. You sit still, the saltiness of his skin so inviting but you don’t dare move, feeling that it's some kind of test, one you intend on passing.

Joel knows that you’ve figured it out. He strokes the side of your hair lovingly with his free hand and chuckles deep and low, the sound reverberating in the quiet room.

“Suck,” he finally commands, and immediately you suckle on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around it. Joel’s eyes flutter a bit and he groans between the feel of your hand on his cock and warm tongue wrapping around his thumb. He pushes it deeper and deeper, another one of his fingers entering your mouth, met with the same enthusiasm by your tongue. He gives a final push of his fingers, gagging you, and your hand falls off his cock, having you distracted enough that you barely notice he’s notched himself at your entrance. When he splits you open with his head you gasp around his fingers, stuffed far back in your throat. It burns and aches and stretches but you feel exhilarated by it, awakened and alive by the absolute girth of him breaking you open and finding a place inside of you as he pushes on inch by inch.

“Good girl,” he whispers roughly, eyes intently locked onto yours as they widen and tear up with all the different intrusive sensations. But despite all of that, your insides warm at his words, finding a home in your heart and nestling in. That’s when you know for sure - you’re done for, you’re a goner, this is the man you’ll spend your life doing this for, chasing and seeking those two little words from him no matter what it takes. You want this.

“Y’sure that’s what you want? Be my good little doll? Be sure before I use you like one,” he says, checking in with you quietly, his lips lingering just above yours.

You nod, your breath hitching, and he can see the fear of the unknown in your eyes, but he smiles at your willingness to try for him. “I want it, I want it, use me, Joel,” you breathe out erratically, the words tumbling out of you without a second thought.

The next moment is nearly a blur, a switch seeming to flip in Joel as pops his fingers out of your mouth, grunting with the effort of yanking your hips upwards so that you have no choice but to wrap your legs around him. He begins a relentless fucking into you, pounding his cock over and over, and its only now that you can see just how well controlled he had been these last few minutes, so collected only to unleash it on you now. Your eyes squeeze shut, rolling back into your head as you bite back the cries of him stretching you so quickly and harshly, so much more rough than the other night.

“Fuck…” he groans, “Tight little pussy, could never forget how good it feels, just like I remembered, baby,” he praises as he continues to jackhammer into you. Your body is crumpled up underneath his huge frame on the couch, legs moving further up his body until they nearly reach his shoulders. He takes the initiative to tug them that way, propping your ankles onto his shoulders before he takes a swift bite at one of them. You yelp but quiet immediately, letting the soft moans you’d been making slip past your lips again instead. 

You see Joel’s approval in his smirk, the way his face contorts with pleasure as he goes red from exertion, his body gathering sweat as you run a desperate hand down his chest. You feel so far away in this position, your lips so far from his, wanting to feel your skin touching in every possible spot. You’re drunk on him already and need more, more of his warmth and his scent and the feeling of him. 

“I want to - p-please, feel you closer, please…” you beg, hoping that your politeness will win him over into doing something that you want.

“Yeah? Want to bounce on this fat cock of mine, pretty girl? That do you some good?”

You nod quickly and urgently, breathing in with the anticipation of being moved as Joel pushes his cock as deep as he can before bracing himself to swap your spots. It feels effortless, the way he contorts the both of you until he’s laying back on the sofa and you’re straddled on top of him. 

“Oh my god…” you murmur when you sink fully down onto him. Your head tilts back and mouth gapes open as you feel him so fully, pressing so deep inside of you at this angle. “Joel…”

“I know, baby, m’so deep in there,” Joel says soothingly now, his demeanor changed for the moment. He starts to move your body for you, achingly slow on his cock while he urges your hips up and down. One hand slides to your belly, gently pushing low down on your abdomen. “Feel m’self right in there, baby, right where I’m meant to be,” he coos, looking at his hand in amazement. 

“Feels so fuckin’... so good,” you whine, starting to move more quickly on top of him. You can’t compare it to anything else, anyone else you’ve ever been with, the way Joel’s cock stretches you with each new thrust, the pain giving way to an aching pleasure as your walls are stimulated over and over by him.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts out, wrapping his bulky biceps around your back and pulling you down so that your top half is more flat against his chest. He slips one hand into your hair, bringing you in for a deep, hungry kiss that you both moan into. At this angle he holds more power, able to thrust up into you after he bends his knees. You’re losing all sense of time, of sensation and noise around you, just Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel fucking into you with everything he’s got, his hot breath on your neck and ear and buried into the side of your hair. His lips warm and wet on any part he can find while you take and take and take what he’s doling out, your cunt starting to ache from the way he’s pounding into you but desperately begging for more, fluttering around his length. Your moans ramp up when you feel your clit start to brush against the curls at the base of his cock, his name whispered into his neck in between your cries. 

“There we go, doll, get what y’need, c’mon,” he says near your ear, urging you on. You’re only brought back to some semblance of reality as Joel smacks your ass with a swift, hard slap and you moan out. A new flutter and gush from your cunt around him makes Joel grunt and he fucks up into you like a crazed, possessed man, intent on only you you you. 

“Tha’s right, honey, so fuckin’ wet for me,” Joel grits, his hips snapping in a nearly impossible pace into you. You think you’re starting to black out, your vision a bit spotty from how hard he’s ramming the entirety of his cock into you, your g-spot so stimulating along with your clit and you’re grasping at the cushions on either side of you, nearly pounding your fists into them as Joel holds you close, not letting you move an inch, not letting this climax get away from either of you. 

“God, Joel, fuck… I c-can’t -“ you whine, your entire body tightening, damp with sweat as your tits slide across his chest with each new thrust. 

“Y’can, now be a good girl and come for me,” Joel says, hot heat of his lips meeting yours for a sloppy kiss, both of your tongues half missing the others’ mouth, making a mess on your faces full of saliva and the remnants of your lip gloss. Everything is so slick, slippery, and you gush between your legs, your wet arousal dripping out around where he enters you again and again. 

You snap, the invisible tether you’ve visualized inside of yourself finally breaking and you let go, practically convulsing on top of Joel with erratic grunts and moans and the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard yourself make. You bear down on his cock as he rides you through the waves of ecstasy that take over your entire being. 

“Good girl,” he coos over and over, his quiet praises only serving to plunge you further into this blinding hot cavern of bliss that you’ve fallen into. You can feel how his cock slips in and out around the way you’re creaming over his length, and you finally quiet into his chest, a spent mess. 

Joel stops moving for a moment, giving you time to catch your breath as he strokes the back of your head. You nearly want to purr with the contentment you feel as he lightly drags his fingers across your head.

“Your turn,” you finally say, a wry smile pulling at your lips. You pick yourself up a bit, wiggling your hips on him and hissing a little at the oversensitivity of your shot nerves. 

“My turn,” Joel echoes, a devious little twinkle in his eye is all you see before he sits up, pulling you close and kissing you as he ruts his hips into yours a few times. He quickly pulls out of you, handling your body roughly but smoothly as he turns you, pushing you down, knees on the cushions and chest pressing against the back of the couch. He crowds behind you, spreading your knees for you and you can feel his wet cock slap against your ass as he positions you and then himself. 

Joel’s cock forces its way between your legs again, immediately sliding into your wet heat. You bristle a little under the full size of him again, determined to take it like the good girl you say you are and let him spill every drop of cum he has inside of you. You realize you’ve said some version of that out loud in your mental fog when Joel chuckles a low, devious little noise and slams into you hard. 

“Yeah? Want all my cum, want to have me fuckin’ my cum into you, fillin’ you up?” Joel asks and you nod dazedly in reply. He plants a firm hand on your back, sinking you into the back of the couch while he pounds into you, chasing after his pleasure, using you to get himself off. You’ve never been more turned on, and you feel the creeping need of desire filling low in your belly again. 

Joel’s free hand starts to smack your ass relentlessly, as if to spur you on while you bounce your hips back into his movements. 

“Yeah, pretty girl, so good, takin’ this cock like a good girl,” he chants, erratic movements of his hips telling you how close he is. 

“Fuck, fuck, so tight…” he bellows out, “Gonna come inside you, baby.” One more thrust and he’s done for, his hips sputtering and stopping deep inside of you as he unleashes while your cunt flutters, your body reacting in pure effervescent joy to feel his spend coating you again. Joel wraps his arms around your chest, yanking you to fall back with him so that you’re laying side by side, tangled in each other's arms. You both breathe heavily, sweat and stickiness intermingling as you lay so close. 

“We missed our dinner reservation,” Joel says after a few moments of silence stating the very obvious. “We could order some takeout, how’s that sound?”

You listen to the beat of his heart where your head rests on his chest, steady and strong as it still comes down from his climax. You hum a little approving noise, nodding your head. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you tell him, barely able to care much about anything else right now. You think in this completely fucked out, limp state you’d let him feed you practically anything, spooning each bite into your mouth like you’re a helpless child. The thought makes you shudder a bit, a feeling of fear creeping over you that someone could have such an effect on you as to change you like that, to pull this side of you out that you’d buried deep inside. 

“Don’t wanna move, though,” you whine, snuggling down onto his chest. 

“I know, I know,” Joel says soothingly with a hand running down your hair. “Gonna have to eat to keep up with what I’m gonna do to ya next, though.”

You lift an intrigued brow and glance up at his face to find him already giving you an amused expression. “I’ll order us some food, why don’t you put on your pretty dress again and we’ll pretend we got our date, how about that?” he says.

You bite your lip in an effort not to smile too widely, and you give him another nod of agreement, finally sitting up and then clambering off the couch and stretching. Joel’s eyes roam your still bare body, unable to believe he could be ready for another round this quickly when his cock twitches at the sight. You throw on your dress and adjust it, smoothing the sides of your hair. 

“How do I look?” you ask innocently with a twirl, as if he hadn’t just been buried deep inside of you, stealing any semblance of reality from your very being. 

“Perfect,” he says with a chuckle. 

Joel orders Chinese food, and the two of you sit at his kitchen table, a candle lit that Joel had dug out from deep within a cabinet sitting between you two at the table. 

While you’re already sure the physical attraction with Joel isn’t wanting for anything, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you two are connecting on all sorts of topics - from old country music that you listened to growing up to your dream vacation destinations. It seems like you two have more and more in common the longer you talk, or at the least, have an interest in the things the other person is saying. You can’t help but feel like you have a lot to learn from Joel, someone who has life experience, different interests (“old man interests” you tease him), and a whole new perspective on the world. You could listen to him for hours, sitting with your chin in your hand and lashes fluttering as you gaze at his perfect lips speaking about all of these new things. 

“Can I tell you something?” you finally say during a quiet moment, when your plates have long been pushed away, swirling your third glass of wine in your hand. One foot is planted on the dining chair, knee tucked up to your chin where you rest it, lip worrying in between your teeth. 

“Mhm, ‘course,” Joel says casually, sipping from his own glass. 

“When I said I couldn’t find my passion before… I’ve always known what it is, what I want out of life. I just can’t… say it because it sounds, well, silly.”

“Try me,” Joel replies coolly, his eyes flickering with curiosity. 

“I’ve always wanted to be -“ you hesitate, swallowing hard. “The reason someone comes home. The person they come home to. That’s it. That’s all I want. My parents… they never had that. Sure, they came home, but only because there wasn’t anything else to do, nowhere else to go. I never felt it from them. I’ve always wanted to just take care of someone and be that for them…” you confess, trailing off as your cheeks heat with the tipsy confession, slightly embarrassed to reveal it to Joel. 

He considers your words with a small hmm and a cock of his head. “You’re talkin’ about a marriage, yeah? You wanna be a married woman.”

You nod, breathing out a sigh. “Women I know, and my parents, oh god, would probably freak out if that’s what I told them. That I just want to be someone’s wife, make each other happy. Be there for them. It’s something I’ve been too scared to admit until now, because my parents just want me to go to school, get a job, and be successful in the ways they’re successful, but…” you pause to glance at Joel, then back down to the table, tracing your nail along the knots in the wood. “What if I want to be successful in the ways they aren’t?”

Joel’s face contorts slightly, feeling your pain. “You gotta do what you need, sweetheart. Fuck what anyone else says,” he says plainly. “I can relate, y’know. I was married before.”

You snap your gaze up to him, somehow surprised, but realizing maybe you shouldn’t be, that this man is well into his forties now and has lived an entire life before ever laying eyes on you. “Yeah? And…”

“Was all pressure. Wasn’t right. Divorced over ten years ago, so don’t feel too sorry f’me. Her parents had all this pressure on us gettin’ married but I knew she wasn’t the right one for me. Ended up divorcin’ five years later.” He tuts at the memory - the waste of time, the endless arguments, the strain of it all for nothing.

“I’m sor-“ you start, cut off by Joel grabbing your hand across the small table, dwarfing it in his palm.

“Said don’t be sorry for me, yeah? I’m sittin’ here with you now, aren’t I?”

A smile tickles at the corners of your lips and you look down bashfully, letting your fingers curl around his. “Yeah, guess that’s true.”

“Come on over here,” Joel says, patting his lap and setting his wine glass on the table with a small clink. 

You slide out of your chair, padding over and getting into his lap effortlessly. His fingers spread along your back to support you and you curl your legs up, resting against his chest. 

“Y’know marriage is a lot, right? I know you know, you’re a smart girl, can tell you’ve thought about this.”

“I know,” you snip. “It’s not something I’ve ever taken lightly. I just… that’s what I want.” You don’t know how to express to him the yearning deep inside of you, the way you’d watch your parents moving in parallel lives, just happening to share children and a home, and wishing for anything more than that. Praying you’d never meet that same fate, that you’d be so sickly, passionately in love with your future spouse that the entire world could know from a single glance. That you’d give your life to make sure they were well taken care of, and they’d do the same for you.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says quietly, nuzzling his nose against the top of your head. “I know you’ll get what you’re lookin’ for. Anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

Your skin heats at his close contact and adoring words, your stomach twisting a little with the anticipation that it could be him - could Joel be the one lucky to have you, as he said?

“W-would you?” you stutter out, licking your suddenly desert dry lips. “Have me?”

“Honey, I’d have you a hundred different ways and never tire of it. Such a sweet, smart, special little thing you are.”

Your lips purse into a smile, fighting the urge to giddily giggle right in his lap. You tilt your head up to kiss him, a motion he gladly returns as he deepens it for a few moments, tasting remnants of the wine on each other's tongues. 

“That what you want? Want me to have ya?” he asks quietly, the question carrying more weight in your mind than maybe he’d meant. 

“Yes,” you say, a whisper into the quiet air of his house.

“Stay w’me then, this weekend. Don’t wanna let you out of my sight.”

You nod, nearly imperceptible as your mouths meet again, passion driving the kisses now as you squirm in his lap, desire igniting every cell of your body. Joel chuckles against your already puffy lips and shakes his head. 

“Gonna ruin me, you know that?”

Three months later, Joel proposes to you in a park you frequently walk in together, a perfectly sunny and breezy spring day with the smell of fresh blooms surrounding you. You have on a pink dress, matching the explosion of color around you in the budding and blossoming trees and bushes. Joel wraps a hand around yours before getting down on one knee and revealing a solitaire diamond in a black velvet box, promising you all of the things you’d revealed to him in private months before. Someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to you. Succeed together in all the ways you’ve always wanted. Cherish you. And most importantly, love you for who you are.

[fandomsnrambles]

The spinjitzu family has recently become my roman empire for some reason, you’re all going to see so much of them 😭

Anyway, i’ve been thinking about his relationships with his sons recently. And I know he doesn’t have a good relationship with any of them.

I know people argue ‘Wu was his favourite’ but i think if we actually look at how he acts, you realise he didn’t really have a favourite. I also feel personally inclined to respectfully mention that just because Garmadon said it, doesn’t make it true. Characters have biases that mess with their worldviews after all. It’s like saying Wu’s to blame for the devourer’s bite because he said he was. Even though he was like seven, maybe nine and had no idea that snake even existed.

Thats why you should take everything they say with a grain of salt and then consider their actions.

Wu’s relationship with his father is complicated. In the spinjitzu books he mentions how he wants his father’s approval, but doesn’t know how to start with getting it. We also get hints of the FSM’s (flawed) parenting methods in the show. I’ve noticed he’s emotionally distant even if he’s physically there. I mean, Wu says his father talked to them (Garmadon and Wu) less after the Aspheera incident. Makes me think that the FSM was definitely not there emotionally.

Due to this, Wu’s emotional needs as a child weren’t really met. His fathers distance hurt him and the FSM (maybe accidentally) neglected him. I say accidentally because i’m pretty sure the FSM is a traumatised child soldier who doesn’t know how to properly cope with everything so they just shut down/dissociate.

Wu was also raised with high expectations (alongside Garmadon.) This probably put him under a lot of stress to keep up. I’m thinking gifted child who got burnt out and more depressed as he aged.

I also think the FSM has trust and paranoia issues. You can look at Nineko and the way they went about dying for this. This guy really hands their son a script of where he died without telling him he gave it to him and mentions the bare minimum details. (I wonder if mentioning too much details got the FSM hurt. Maybe thats why he’s so distant.) Of course, trauma doesn’t really excuse being a flawed parent.

I also feel the need to mention that Wu unintentionally copies his father’s trauma responses. Heck, we could even talk about how Garmadon does the same, and later Lloyd. They all bottle their emotions and issues and hope nothing bad ever happens with that ever. Too bad for them though, we know how this ends

(Oof this is ✨generational trauma✨ at work)

Moving on to Garmadon, we know that after he got bitten by the devourer, the FSM helped him through his episodes and tries his best to find a cure. From this i can honestly say that the FSM did love and care for his sons. But this doesn’t mean they knew how to properly show that they did (especially because he doesn’t have a proper basis for what parent-child relationships should even look like.)

We see this when we get to know of Garmadon’s insecurities as a child. He doesn’t think there was anything wrong with him and seems to hate how the FSM tries to find a cure for him. Maybe because he doesn’t like the implication that he needs ‘fixing’ more than anything else. Garmadon’s also different than Wu in the sense that he grows more resentful of his father as he grows older whilst Wu clings to his father’s attention to get approval/praise.

I also want to mention how this resentment built up also affects how his perception of Wu’s relationship with their dad. He thinks Wu is favoured probably because Wu doesn’t have the venom and is the good one (because the venom apparently makes Garmadon the ‘bad’ one) and he sees his younger brother as the golden child. This probably built to jealousy and then guilt for the jealousy because Garmadon does love his brother a lot.

The high expectations also come’s into play here. It probably puts a lot of weight on Garmadon’s shoulders. Which doesn’t make his growing feelings of resentment better nor does it make his insecurities about his venom any better.

What makes this whole situation worse is that NO ONE in this family knows how to communicate. Wu doesn’t tell his dad or his brother how he feels, Garmadon doesn’t as well and FSM wouldn’t be caught breathing a word of his feelings to be honest.

This whole family would rather die than communicate ffs.

In conclusion:

[charonarp]

Devil May Cry's CRAZY man

So, I watched, like, ONE episode of the Netflix series of Devil May Cry, and for some stupid reason, Dante has been eating at my brain? I THOUGHT IT'D BE THE WHITE RABBIT, BUT NO, THIS IDIOT SNEAKS INSIDE AND DOES NOT APOLOGIZE FOR EATING MY BRAIN FOR A WEEK

He's constantly in my thoughts, infecting every hour of my day and will not let me focus on other plans. This is ridiculous.

Anyways, so I bought the Devil May Cry video game series.

Do I know anything about the video game series? Well...no, I don't. I never played it as a kid, nor have my brothers, and I never saw any gameplay videos of it. In fact, I don't think I was fully aware of DMC's presence until recently. I knew it existed, but didn't really think much of it, y'know?

I played one hour of the first game, and OMG??? I suppose this is spoiler territory for a game that was released in 2001, but only for the first two stages of DMC1.

TRISH IS CRAZY DAWG. I only finished level two of the game, and that INTRO??? It felt like the devs sat in a room and went "what's the sickest thing we can do to make her badass?" and WENT WITH EVERY SUGGESTION.

Does some crazy ass jump to where she appears out of nowhere from the moon and does a sick ass landing on the ground. Bursts into Dante's shop with a motorcycle that came out of NOWHERE. STABS DANTE, THROWS A MOTORCYCLE AT HIM, and then SUDDENLY she goes "I'm not your enemy, I have a job for you" LIKE??? HELLO????

I also wasn't expecting there to be no tutorial. I mean, I wasn't expecting MUCH, but I was surprised by how it just THROWS you in. Also, the camera angles throw me off, but it does remind me of old Resident Evil (I never played it, but I had watched my brothers play em), and I managed to KINDA adjust??? It's only been an hour of gameplay, I'm sure I'll manage.

Also, the start up screen (for the Ultimate collection on Steam) and for the game individually (hadn't loaded the others) are so funny. It's so obviously an old game, and it's charming in its own way. Also, heard the music cut off before looping. CLASSIC /positive

The first area was pretty decent. I liked the big open room, primarily because it almost felt like a space to learn the controls. Did I utilize this opportunity? Not really, I was just wandering around trying to explore every nook and cranny to figure out wtf I was supposed to do.

I will say, I didn't know I could aim during stage one. I thought the only way I could shoot was to jump SDUIGHISG

AND BOY DID THAT HURT MY THUMB. I was pressing B (xbox 360 controller my beloved) each time, and that SUCKED for my thumb omg. I learned like, halfway through stage two that I could aim with RB LMAO

I had no issues with stage 1, and although I didn't get a perfect score, I'm not really after the "high score" gig. I just want the ✨experience✨

Stage two confused the HELL out of me. Also, I died twice. Before the stage started, I was surprised "easy mode" was thrown at me, but of course I wanted to activate it! APPARENTLY, I DIDN'T ACTIVATE IT THE FIRST TIME ALTHOUGH I PRESSED YES? I didn't know it wanted me to confirm twice, I thought when it asked "are you sure you want to switch?", it was suddenly asking me to switch over to normal mode, which I pressed no, but it KEPT ME ON NORMAL

The room with the fountain was interesting. Considering there's a door there, I suspect I go back there at a later level??? I could go back to Stage 1 during Stage 2, so I suspect I do. The infinite enemies was an interesting mechanic.

Also, first time I went around (before I got easy mode), didn't know you could get Alastor before the ghost fight thing? The ghost that comes out of the paintings? I fought those things with the regular blade and didn't have too much of an issue, but I suspect it would've been much easier if I had Alastor the first time.

CAN I JUST SAY, THAT ALASTOR ANIMATION WAS INSANE??? Getting stabbed by the blade, then Dante just rising up, even with the big ass guard on the blade (that likely went into his throat), completely unscathed. Honestly, this feels like an edgy teenage dream, it's so fascinating.

Besides my thumb hurting, I'm having a pretty decent time! Am I confused half the time? Yes, but I don't mind. It's not exactly like the game is guiding me, so I can't fault myself for being lost sometimes. I plan to play through the series (except DMC2, I was told it's not worth it), and imma be playing them in order via release instead of the chronological timeline I was told about.

I know Netflix's DMC and the game DMC are VERY different, so I wasn't hopping into the game expecting the anime. Besides, I only saw one episode (I do plan to continue, I just got really invested in the DMC music), and it's crazy how one episode led to this.

[fiapartridge]

4th of july! -> beckett x hazel 🇺🇸💛✨

pairing: beckett sennecke + hazel summary: hazel introduces beckett to his first fourth of july, filled with hotdogs, fireworks, and of course, kisses... warning(s): kissing, fluff author's note: okay im a little late but i had to write about this LOL also someone requested a little makeout 👀 so i tried my besttt; i might do a hotter one in the future idk -- this one was like cutesy wc: 2.3k

is this really a tradition? —

“There is no way you guys do this on the fourth of July.”

Hazel and Beckett stood around the dining table in Beckett’s apartment, five hotdogs and a tiny American flag sat on the wooden slab in front of them as Beckett questioned the validity of this “apparent” tradition.

“We do it every single year,” Hazel shrugged.

Beckett nodded, eyeing the hotdogs like they were his sworn adversaries. “So, every American tries to eat a hotdog in less than a minute? Like, this is a real tradition?”

She smiled, nodding. “Yes, and you wouldn’t know that because this is your first fourth of July. So, c’mon,” she scooted him closer to the table. “Eat up, it’s tradition.”

And Beckett, being the innocent and oblivious angel he was, dove in headfirst. Hazel set the timer, her fingers trembling with barely suppressed laughter, and watched as he grabbed the first hotdog. He closed his eyes and stuffed the food into his mouth with the confidence of a boy determined to honor a tradition—or the confidence of a boy who wanted to impress the pretty girl he was with. But Hazel’s stomach churned, not from the sight itself—well, yes from that too—but from the absurdity of the situation.

Beckett attacked the hotdog, his jaw working furiously as he chewed. His cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s, and Hazel had to press her lips together to keep from giggling. She could see him struggling to chew quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Ketchup dribbled down his chin, and a piece of bun stuck to the corner of his mouth, causing her hand to fly up to her mouth, trying not to gag.

She nearly lost her composure when he started on the second one. Beckett’s eyes were still closed, his face a mask of determination as he forced the second hotdog into his mouth. Hazel’s eyes widened as she watched him stuff the entire thing in, bits of bun and mustard smearing across his face. His fingers, slick with condiments, fumbled with the next hotdog, but he for some reason, perhaps because he’s a hockey player with a girl watching him, didn't give up.

Her stomach twisted in knots—not from nausea, but from the effort of holding back her laughter. Hazel glanced at the timer, watching the seconds tick down agonizingly slowly, her heart pounding with a mix of amusement and a sort of affection for the poor guy. No guy has ever eaten two and a half hotdogs in less than a minute for her.

When he finally managed to swallow the last bite, she couldn’t contain herself any longer. 

“OKAY, OKAY, OKAY! YOU DID IT!” she shouted, barely able to contain her laughter as Beckett put the hotdog down, ketchup smeared all over his once pristine face.

He looked at Hazel, breathing heavily, his hands on his hips. “Every American does this?”

She laughed as she took in his big, sad puppy eyes. Ignoring the mess of hotdog juices and ketchup, she wrapped her arms around him, and he hugged her back instinctively. “No, I’m just messing with you, but this was definitely entertaining to watch,” she said, looking up at him as he slowly broke into a grin.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Beck–”

Before she could finish, he scooped her up and tossed her onto the plush couch a few feet away. He loomed over her, planting messy, ketchup-flavored kisses all over her face.

“Beckett, I’m gonna gag!” she managed to get out between fits of laughter. Hazel began to cough, making Beckett feel instantly concerned. He sat up, pulling her close, and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. His eyes watched hers, cursing himself for putting her in this situation.

But before he could feel too bad, she wiped her ketchup-covered hand across his cheek, smearing it all over his face.

Beckett paused, his mouth wide open in surprise, before scoffing. “I’m gonna give you five seconds,” he declared as Hazel yelped, her laughs bouncing off the walls as she ran off the couch, Beckett chasing after her.

Best 4th yet.

fireworks and kisses —

The beach was littered with Ducks players as Hazel talked with Amanda, discussing all of the questions they had queued for the next coming weeks. 

“We could ask for their skincare routine,” Amanda suggested.

Hazel laughed, watching the boys try to do handstands in the sand. Trevor egged on Beckett, telling the boy he couldn’t do it. In sheer willpower, and not wanting to bruise his ego, Beckett stepped forward, went down on his hands, and tried his best to do a handstand. It looked more like a sad downward dog position.

“They’re all gonna say they just use water,” Hazel replied, thinking back to Will’s interview with Bauer Hockey.

“What if we ask for their celebrity crushes?”

“Already know it: Livvy Dunne, Megan Fox, and Margot Robbie—ask any of them.”

Calling Mason over, Amanda asked him, to which he happily responded with, “The queen, Margot Robbie.”

Hazel’s hand shot up. “Called it!”

Sneaking up behind her, Beckett’s arm snaked around Hazel’s shoulder as he smiled down at the girl. “What’d you call?”

Holding the hand that drooped over her, she smiled proudly. “Mason’s celebrity crush.”

“Oh, Margot Robbie, right?” Hazel laughed upon hearing Beckett’s response as Amanda rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay. That one doesn’t work,” she sighed.

Staring at Hazel, Beckett smiled. “‘Mind if I steal her for a sec, Manda?”

Sighing, Amanda began walking to the other guys. “Keep her, I need a drink.”

They both laughed as Beckett dragged her closer to the water before plopping down on the sand. Hazel followed, sitting beside him as their knees knocked together. Her head rested on his shoulder as they watched the night sky. There weren't many stars out, not like out in the woods in Washington where Hazel and her family would go out every year for Fourth of July. It was the best place to watch fireworks because you could see the stars, too. It felt special and safe and she just missed her family. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a bit homesick.

“How’re you feeling’?” Beckett asked, watching the rushing water in front of them.

“I’m okay,” she whispered softly. “Just missing home.” She didn’t have school during the summer, but her work continued during the draft and the development camp, doing more interviews and social media work than ever. This was her first summer without her family and to say she missed them would be an understatement.

Beckett’s heart ached for her. He also got bouts of sadness where he wished he could just be back home, watching movies again with his dad, cooking with his mom, and driving around Toronto with his sister. If he didn’t have Hazel, surely he would have been on the first flight back to Toronto right now.

“Did you facetime them today?” he asked, genuinely curious. He’s met Hazel’s sisters through facetime and Instagram comments. They’re funny and loud and unique—and they argue all the time, but it was hilarious. They felt like a big, close, tight knit family and he couldn’t wait to meet them in person someday.

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“What’d you guys talk about?”

“What they’re doing to celebrate, Marcy’s going to the fourth grade, and,” she stammered, her cheeks growing pink. “You.”

Beckett’s smile grew wider as he gently pinched her side. “Oh, you talked about me?” he teased.

Hazel laughed, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t say if it was good or bad.”

“Oh, well, knowing me, it was probably good.”

Shoving him, he fell into the sand as Hazel chuckled, her smile going from ear to ear. “You’re such a smug piece of shit.”

Beckett laughed, pecking a kiss on her cheek. “If it counts for anything, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Beckett—” Hazel started.

“OKAY, I’M STARTING THE FIREWORKS!” Trevor yelled, a smoldering stick in hand. “GET BACK, GET BACK, GET BACK!” he shouted as everyone laughed at him, yet staying at a safe distance because, well, it’s Trevor. Something bad is bound to happen.

Hazel and Beckett scrambled to their feet, their laughter mingling with the chatter of the Ducks players chirping Trevor. They made their way to a safe distance, watching as Trevor lit the first firework.

The fuze sparked and fizzed, casting an orange glow on the sand. A moment later, the firework shot into the sky, a trail of light streaking upward. It exploded with a loud boom, cascading into a shower of red and gold sparks that illuminated the beach below.

One after another, the fireworks followed, each one better than the last. Green comets burst into shimmering emeralds, blue stars scattered across the pitch black sky, and purple chrysanthemums bloomed in mid-air. 

Hazel watched in awe, her eyes alight with the show ahead. Her homesickness momentarily forgotten. Beckett stood beside her, his arm casually draped over her shoulder, their closeness and the laughter from everyone beside them being another comfort amidst her missing her family.

As the last embers faded into the night, Beckett turned to Hazel, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of the dying fireworks. There was a warmth in his eyes, a mix of safety and love and affection and a thousand promises that she knew he would always keep. There was a sort of “home” feeling she felt with him and everyone else on this beach, like maybe you could be in two places and still be home.

He gently cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded, smiling softly at the boy before whispering, “I’m okay.”

Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between them. Hazel’s eyes fluttered shut, her heart racing as she felt his breath against her lips.

Then, finally, their lips met, and it was soft and familiar and sweet. As the seconds ticked by, it deepened, becoming more confident like their lips fit together like a lock, or a puzzle piece. It felt…perfect. 

Beckett’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as she slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as she responded eagerly. Their breaths came in quick, heated bursts, the world around them fading in oblivion. The sound of the waves and laughter of their friends were distant memories as they lost themselves in each other. 

Beckett’s hand roamed from her back to her waist, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Hazel’s heart pounded in her chest, her entire being focused on the sensation of Beckett’s lips and the warmth of his hands and the closeness of his body.

As they broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Hazel opened her eyes to find Beckett gazing at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache in the best way possible.

“I really like you,” Hazel beamed.

“Next book’s gotta be about us, okay?” Beckett whispered as Hazel laughed.

“Okay.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer, savoring the closeness between them. With a gentle kiss on her forehead, Beckett took Hazel’s hand in his, their fingers intertwining. 

“Come on, Hazy,” he smiled, leading her back to where their friends were still celebrating. “Gotta tell the boys were the next great romcom.”

As they walked hand in hand, Hazel couldn’t help but feel this tightness in her chest—a good tightness. Not just because of Beckett, but because of everything. Because of the world around her, the people around her, the boy next to her. She felt something special here. Something worth staying for.

taglist! @bunbunbl0gs @crazy4smitty

[grandlinedreams]

You’re like the main reason why I’m active again on tumblr. Like, a billion thumbs up for all your really good work.

I had in idea stuck in my head (blame book Instagram) where YN x Law where YN comes back to the polar tang from spending time with Nami and Robin, and they borrowed some books to read. Law doesn’t think anything of it, until he somehow finds out they’re ✨spicy ✨ books.

Waugdjsns pls you guys have been so nice i'm 😭😭😭 but also bookstagram is always two opposites of an extreme with either inspiration galore or just kind of a '...i'm just gonna...leave these people to it' for me but that's okay!! Everyone is entitled to like what they do but anyways!! Of course I can work with that idea though!! I hope this is to your liking 🥺

[Heads up!: implied suggestive book content, a little suggestive in general]

In terms of people you could hang out with when around the Strawhats, Law is glad you choose to hang around Nami and Robin. Neither seem to attract the same level of chaos as the rest of their crew seems to (neither does Sanji, but there are obvious reasons why Law isn't particularly fond of him) and though he knows you love your crewmates, having familiar faces outside of the Polar Tang seems to keep frustration based squabbles with them at bay.

That being said, you like to test the limits of how long he tolerates your absence before he's reaching out to you via transponder snail. "We do have things to do," he reminds you, and though he does his best not to sound like he's sulking, he can hear the smile in your voice.

"I'll be back before you know it, Captain. Don't worry." He does worry even though he tells himself that he doesn't, tension easing from his muscles once you're back aboard the Polar Tang. This time you have a two bags in hand, ones he eyes with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"This is for all of us," you say as you hold up the bag of neatly packed food, "Sanji insisted on sending me back with some new recipes for us to try and said I should let him know what we all think."

"And the other?" Law points and you pull it out of his reach.

"They're books," you say simply, "for me. Nami and Robin had a few recommendations."

And then you're walking past him, conversation apparently finished. He doesn't think much of it after that, would never scold you for wanting to read when he does plenty of it himself, both for studying purposes and not.

It becomes a problem when he realizes that in having new things to occupy your time and attention outside of your job, you've severely curbed time spent with him.

So when you settle yourself on your shared bed with a book in your hand and seemingly no intention to pay attention to him from now until you inevitably go to sleep, he sets his own plan into action.

"Coming to bed on your own for once?" You ask when he settles behind you, long legs bracketing your own as he settles his chin on your head.

"Something like that," he answers, and you turn the page of your book even as his arms wind around you. He frowns when you don't react, now settling his chin on your shoulder. "Is that book more interesting than me?"

This time you reach up, patting his cheek absentmindedly. "Of course not."

It's not the answer that Law wants, far from it ㅡ and so he switches gears, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the slope of your neck. And then another, and another ㅡ and if you've noticed what he's doing, you do a damn good job of ignoring him.

Until he starts nipping at your skin, little pinches of his teeth to worry small blooms of strawberry pink on your skin. "Did you need something, Law?"

"Your attention," he says simply, lets himself be petulant like a child behind the safety of a closed door. He reaches for your book, tugging it free and angling himself away from you when you swipe at it. "What is in this book that's so interesting?"

"Law, no! Give it back, please." He has half a mind for a moment to simply shut it without a bookmark just to annoy you (it's the teasingly mean streak he's had since childhood days with Lami) but instead, he decides to scan the page you'd been on himself.

Oh. Oh. So that's why you'd been so interested in these books as of late. He turns towards you, raising an eyebrow. "Never would have thought you to be one to read these kinds of things, [Name]."

"Shut up," you hiss, swiping the book back, though your glare is ruined by how red your face is. "I'm a grown adult, I can read what I want."

"Never said you couldn't," Law fires back before he's reaching, pushing you back until you're beneath him. His gaze flicks over his handiwork from earlier, smirk tugging at his lips as mischief shimmers in his eyes. It's rare that he's in one of these kinds of moods, and he plans to take advantage of it. "It's pretty rude of you to tell me to shut up, though. I was going to suggest we try out some of the things in that book of yours."

[honey-minded-hivemind]

idea

Imagine a Au where Mutants and Vampires are somewhat one and the same, and like- imagine it's an au with a reader kinda like mocha(Rewind!Reader) in personality and all that-

They're living in an apartment with their roommate (✨Kevin✨) who sometimes invites people over at night, tho they always are gone the next day, probably just left while reader was asleep- though the people never visit again... Huh-

Maybe another odd person moved into the apartment and decided to introduced themself to people in the apartment(actually just Reader and Kevin for- Reasons(probably another one of the X-Men)

Strange how people who come by that Kevin apparently knows ask to be invited inside tho-

Cube Anon

Oh... I LOVE IT!!!

This Reader (let's call them Malt or Cinnamon) is an overworked, tired teen/young adult, who shares an apartment with their co-worker, Kevin. They're a swell person, they make dinner for Reader, and accept Reader's gifts of cool rocks and sketches and little bits of jewelry, so they're cool in Reader's book.

Of course, Kevin is always up at night, but so is Reader, it's when they're usually working. So they tend to sleep during the day, when the sun doesn't sting their eyes and their mouth feels less achey, just curled up on the mattress or the couch, wrapped up in a nest of blankets-

Kevin invites friends over sometimes, who always ask to be invited inside, which Kevin always laughs off, saying they aren't in the 1800s anymore~! Reader fell asleep soon after, but notes Kevin is very fond of a few different visitors, namely one they call "Logan", another they call "Jubilee" and a few others with odd nicknames such as "Storm", "Beast", "Gambit", "Rogue", and a few others with more normal names like "Scott" and "Jean"... The funny thing is, Reader never sees them... Theyvusally fall asleep before they arrive, with Kevin saying they left before Reader woke up...

It's all a bit odd, but Reader decides not to dig deeper than that. They don't know what weird cult or possible relationships Kevin has, but as long as they aren't sacrificing Reader or burning the house down or spilling blood on the floor, then it's fine. They have bigger problems to deal with than weird friends of Kevin...

(Kevin grins at Reader while they sleep, they never though they'd see their old buddy, their little fledgling, again-!)

[iscdisc]

I am wondering I know you mentioned you ship jonetello and such. I was wondering what is your opinion on Raph? And what’s your favorite ship with him?

I like 2012 Raph ! I find his character relatable a majority of the time and I wish his anger issues were handled differently / written better- 😭👍

If you're asking me if I ship 2012 Raph and Casey, I don't-! Nothing against people who do, of course ! I just personally don't see it, and I think how their dynamic was handled in the show plays a part in that perspective-! But ultimately I just see those two platonically ! (I apologize if you weren't asking this though-! I just thought maybe you were because you brought up my enjoyment of 2012 Donnie and Casey, so I assumed you might've been wondering if I shipped 2012 Raph and Casey also since I get that question a lot-!)

However, I do ship 2012 RaMona and 2012 Raphril (Fanonly, since my enjoyment of this ship is primarily founded upon April's character being written better / her character being handled very differently-) a lot ! I enjoy his relationship with Y'gthba ("Mona Lisa") a lot + I find 2012 RaMona to be the most tolerable canonical pairing (Though, I will admit I think a big reason for that is because they had the least amount of screentime compared to the other pairings the writers were trying to push, therefore they had the least amount of opportunities to ruin it in my opinion- Lmao), and I enjoy thinking about a relationship between Raph and April because of how similar they are !

2012 April and Raph are both very temperamental, they both have a strong sense of justice, they both have a difficult time expressing themselves / being vulnerable at times, they both aren't the most physically affectionate people (I know April gave Donnie kisses a lot, but that doesn't count to me since the writers were treating this like an "average girl behavior" which I disagree with completely + these were meant in a platonic way apparently since we see her get physically uncomfortable with hugging from Donnie or Casey, so- 💀), they both are very cocky and prideful, they both are very snarky and sarcastic, they both love animals (Raph with Spike / Chompy / and pigeons, and April with Ice Cream Kitty before she got mutated / a lone rat she encountered in, "I, Monster" / technically Dr. Rockwell before he regained his sense of self / etc.), they both have pretty reserved dispositions overall, they both are incredibly skeptical-

I just feel like Raph would have respected April the way that she deserved to be respected (Especially as a fighter, if that's truly what she wanted to pursue-), and April would have helped Raph feel very seen and understood as a individual (Especially with her psychic abilities, given how difficult it is for these two to express themselves, at least in my opinion-). I also think this growth in their relationship would have been substantiated by Raph not liking April right away because she was a human / him just being very distrustful of humans- Even though April turned out to not be entirely human, she's still very human passing (so to speak), so I feel like that wouldn't really matter to him, you know? Lmao

There's also the fact that I think they're very pleasing to the eye together design and color scheme wise ! I'm not sure if this point is as easy to convey though-? I feel like this might just be a me thing, since I feel the exact same way about 2012 Casey and Donnie- 😭👍✨