#and bring spork home

[doginprogress]

I miss my girlies

Got home yesterday after a ridiculously long day traveling and picked up Azula and Tansy. But the house feels so empty without Ponzi and Spork. Hopefully my car is out of the shop sooner rather than later 🤞🏻

[captain-hawks]

till one of us caves

atsumu miya x f!reader

In which Osamu asks his brother to keep you company while you're closing the shop alone one night. And it wouldn't be an issue...if Atsumu wasn't the bane of your goddamn existence ever since your stupid drunken hookup years ago.

wc: 3.7k

c: 18+, smut, enemies to lovers speed run, the complete and utter defilement of onigiri miya (sorry osamu), miscommunication, fingering, unprotected p in v, atsumu is down so bad and also he's an idiot, protective!atsumu, miya twin banter, best friend!osamu

“Absolutely not.”

Osamu pauses in the middle of counting cash at the register and glances up to follow where your narrowed gaze is focused—a head of blonde hair on its way through the front doors of Onigiri Miya. 

“I didn’t want ya closin’ alone,” Osamu replies, returning his attention to the stack of bills in his hand. 

“Hey dickhead, I hope yer feedin’ me for this!”

Instant headache. 

Instant fucking headache. 

You let out a long-suffering, exaggerated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re only leaving an hour early. I can handle this alone, Osamu. I promise.”

Osamu closes the register, turning around to look at you with his arms crossed. “It’s a Saturday night. I don’t like you dealin’ with the drunk stragglers by yourself.”

Glancing around, you pick up the only vaguely threatening object within arm’s length—a plastic spork. “I know self defense.”

Raising an eyebrow, Osamu glances from your face to the small utensil clutched between your fingers. “Wouldn’t be the first time Tsumu’s been stabbed with a spork,” he mutters. 

“Fooooooooooood,” said twin dramatically whines, plastering himself across the counter like a fainting Victorian maiden. 

“Get yer sweaty ass offa there,” Osamu grunts, snapping a rag against Atsumu’s arm. 

He yelps, muttering something under his breath before finding a normal sitting position on the stool. 

“Alright, now get outta here so you’re not late for your date,” Atsumu chides, running a hand through his hair. 

It’s obnoxious, actually—the way he still manages to look infuriatingly attractive even with his sweaty bleach-blonde hair sticking up in every direction, his face still flushed and voice a little hoarse from practice. At the very least, he had the decency to toss on a clean black tee with MSBY emblazoned in large gold letters across the back. 

You hate Atsumu Miya and his stupidly perfect face. 

And his calves—who the fuck has calves that nice. 

You also hate Osamu, your best friend and boss, for unceremoniously dumping your least favorite Miya into your lap at 8 o’clock on a Saturday night. 

“It’s not a date,” Osamu yells from the office, walking out with a jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Looks like ya showered for once today, dirtbag,” Atsumu shoots back, mouth full of rice. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Choke,” Osamu deadpans as he heads for the door, “…but not in here. Don’t have time for all that paperwork.”

Atsumu salutes his brother as you stand in the middle of the shop with your hands wrapped around the broom. 

“Can’t promise what kind of paperwork you’re gonna have to do after leaving us alone together,” you mutter. 

Osamu leans in, patting the side of your face. “Just promise me you’ll mop up the blood.”

—

You’ve known the Miya twins for years now, though it was Osamu that you first became friends with after a shared class in your second year of university. 

Atsumu was more like the miserable cold that you accidentally bring home from vacation. 

The miserable cold who you’re instantly, stupidly attracted to from the moment his brother introduces him to you. Who you end up drunkenly making out with in bed after a party one night. 

Who passes out midway through and disappears before you’re awake the next morning.  

Who had a fucking girlfriend at the time, unbeknownst to you. Knowledge courtesy of Osamu, who nearly undeservingly took a textbook to the head when he told you. 

Who, to this day, three years later, has never even acknowledged that it happened. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t been harboring a stupid crush on him for months. And if perhaps you’d been a little more drunk, enough to forget the taste of his lips, the press of his fingertips into your hips. But naturally, that little hiccup drove an irrevocable wedge between the two of you, leading you to regard the blonde Miya in a perpetually antagonistic manner until the end of time. 

Such is life.

“I think you might rile ‘im up better than even I can nowadays,” Osamu had observed once, after Atsumu balked in aggravation when you returned from picking up everyone’s fast food orders and handed him a kid’s meal instead. 

Atsumu, never one to back down from a challenge, met your piss poor attitude in spades, going so far as to barge in on your dates on occasion, plopping right down at the table and obnoxiously stuffing whatever appetizer was in front of him into his mouth like you’d invited him. 

—

Surprisingly, despite the restaurant’s minimal square footage, the two of you manage to avoid one another for the next forty-five minutes—Atsumu quietly sits at a table watching game replays on his phone while you wipe down the counters. 

You almost forget he’s there, until the bell above the door dings to announce what’ll probably be the last customer of the night. 

And—fuck. 

Osamu kicked this guy out last week when he wouldn’t take no for an answer after you refused to give him your number. 

“Hey pretty girl,” a tipsy voice slurs as the man settles down at the counter. 

“Sorry, we’re about to close,” you tell him, not looking up from the pile of receipts you’re sorting on the other side. 

“S’not why I’m here,” he chuckles. 

Take a hint, buddy. 

“We’re closing soon,” you repeat firmly. 

A hand grasps your wrist, and you yelp as he murmurs, “What’re you doing after this?”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of her, and get the fuck out,” a cold voice interrupts. 

A hand clamps down firmly on the man’s shoulder, and you watch the pain flit across his face as fingertips dig into his collarbone. 

“Now,” Atsumu adds, his voice so harsh it brokers no room for argument. 

You may call yourself an expert in Miya antagonization. But as you look at Atsumu’s stormy, furious expression, the tense set of his jaw, you realize that you’ve never seen him truly angry. 

Not like this. 

The man quickly gets up from the stool, putting his hands up in front of him as he stumbles backward and says, “I didn’t mean anything by it, man.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Atsumu replies, his voice low. “I’m sure my brother was a real nice guy when he told ya to leave last time. I ain’t nice. Don’t fuckin’ come back here.”

The silence is deafening when the front door swings shut, broken only by the sound of Atsumu twisting the lock into place and flipping the sign to CLOSED. Your heart, meanwhile, is frantically pounding in your chest. 

Atsumu wasn’t even here when that happened last week, which means Osamu must have told him for whatever reason, and…

“You alright?”

Atsumu interrupts you from your thoughts, and you glance up to find a disarmingly concerned expression burrowed into his features. 

“Yeah…thanks,” you exhale, quickly turning around to busy yourself with anything but staring at the downward curve of his lips. 

You have all of ten seconds to yourself before Atsumu comes to stand beside you behind the counter, idly tidying a pile of napkins as he explains, “Samu was worried that creep might come back, so he was gonna cancel his plans tonight so you wouldn’t be alone if he did. I told him I’d come make sure ya were alright.”

You’re not sure why, but suddenly, you’re angry. 

You’re really fucking angry.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little raw in the wake of the adrenaline rush from that uncomfortable encounter, a little shaken by the stranger’s boldness and the way Atsumu stepped in without a second thought.   

Maybe you swear it looked like Atsumu was about to reach out to you afterward, his hand falling back to his side in an aborted gesture between one breath and the next. 

“Since when do you care if I’m alright, Atsumu?”

Atsumu startles beside you. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you led me on years ago and nearly fucked me at a party—you probably would have, if you didn’t pass out in my bed halfway through taking off your pants. You disappeared the next morning, failed to inform me that you had a girlfriend, and then conveniently acted like it never fucking happened.”

He stares at you, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, I what now?”

You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms, an incredulous look on your face. “You’re joking, right?”

“Was that…oh….” Atsumu scratches the back of his head, trailing off. “That’s the night I blacked out.”

“I mean yeah, you were kind of trashed.”

“No, like that’s the night that made me realize I had to cut back on drinking. I’ve got no memory of what happened. Zero. Haven’t drank that much since.”

“So was it not concerning that you woke up in my bed?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“I hardly knew ya back then. Didn’t even know that was your dorm room, and you were hoggin’ all the covers. Couldn’t even see yer face before I panicked and crawled my hungover, half-dead ass back to me and Samu’s.”

Well, this is certainly news to you. 

“…and Osamu never told you.”

Well, why would he, after you spent two hours bitching to him about it and then threatened to never speak to him again if he made the situation even more embarrassing by telling Atsumu you were upset. 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p for emphasis before sobering a bit as he says in a more serious tone, “I’m sorry. For doing that to you, and for forgetting that it happened.”

You reach out, punching Atsumu in the shoulder. 

“The fuck was that for?” he exclaims. 

“So why have you been such an insufferable jackass all these years?”

Atsumu raises his eyebrows, looking affronted. “You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine either, sweetheart.”

Well, true. 

But still. 

(You try to ignore what the stupid pet name does to your heart, which is currently in the midst of a traitorous backflip inside of your chest.)

“At least I didn’t barge in and ruin your dates for no reason,” you glare. 

“That was like, twice,” Atsumu defends himself. “Maybe three times.”

You stare at him. 

“The fourth time doesn’t count, that guy was a dickhead. Samu wanted to punch ‘im, too.”

“You ate an entire basket of breadsticks.”

Atsumu shrugs, taking a step closer to you. “They’re bottomless for a reason.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but you’re pressed up against the prep counter in the back of the shop, and one of Atsumu’s hands is resting on the cool metal surface beside your hip. Not quite touching you, but you swear you can feel the heat of him all the same. 

“You ruined my dates for breadsticks?” you ask quietly, holding his gaze. 

Atsumu’s thumb twitches, and you feel the featherlight touch through your jeans. “I ruined your dates because I was jealous.”

Blood rushes in your ears, your mind struggling to comprehend the rush of emotion flooding through you. Embarrassment, elation, shock, annoyance—and something else, something with a darker, richer edge. 

Something that has the next words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them, “Did you think doing that was going to make me take you home and fuck you instead?”

Atsumu has the decency to flush, but he only further closes the gap between your bodies, his nose brushing against yours as he replies, “I hated how much you hated me. And I hated how much I still wanted you.”

“You’re an idiot, Miya.”

He laughs. 

He laughs, and it’s a low, rich sound that dances down your spine and curls up low in your belly.

“Yeah, yer probably right,” he exhales, his breath hot against your lips. “I should probably find another tactic.”

“I’ve heard drunken hookups work wonders,” you sigh, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

His free hand comes to rest on your other side, effectively caging you in. “I’d have to be a fuckin’ idiot to fumble the bag with you twice.”

“Who said I’m still interested?” you reply, putting an inch of space back between your mouths, if only for the sake of your own sanity. 

Atsumu hums. “I do have eyes, ya know.”

You don’t miss a beat, “Maybe I’m secretly dating your brother, and I just objectively like the look of your face, as his twin. Like a natural, biological reaction.”

“Yer not datin’ Samu,” Atsumu replies evenly. “He couldn’t handle ya.”

You glare at him. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Atsumu smirks at your indignation. “You’re outta his league.”

“And what exactly is my league?”

“Some stupid, sweaty pro volleyball player whose got it pretty damn bad for ya, who would settle for a hate fuck at this point if that’s all ya wanna give him.”

You know Atsumu clocks the way your breath hitches in your throat, the slight widening of your pupils that you can’t disguise at the bald, shameless truth of his words.  

The look on his face is so ridiculously endearing, you want to kiss it right off. 

Pushing yourself upward with your palms, you sit up on the counter, and Atsumu shifts forward to stand between your legs.

“Osamu would kill us.”

His nose caresses yours again, and he rests one hand on the side of your face. “For doing something other than fightin’? He’d throw a party.”

“For turning Onigiri Miya into a house of ill repute.”

Atsumu chokes.

“But there’s just one little thing, Atsumu,” you continue. 

“What’s that?” he asks carefully, each word a huff of warm air dancing across your mouth. 

You exhale, shuddering at the feeling of Atsumu’s other hand idly tracing the exposed sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. “Can you handle me?”

Atsumu’s thumb skirts across the bottom of your chin before he leans in, mouthing his next words against your lips, “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you’re mean to me?”

Your answering laugh is swallowed by a kiss, an all-consuming kiss that has you gasping into Atsumu’s mouth as he licks his way into yours. 

There’s no preamble for the way Atsumu’s tongue dances across your own, the thorough way he tastes you—the groan that rumbles in his throat as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

Kissing Atsumu Miya is like setting a wildfire loose in your chest, all the oxygen swallowed up by his greedy, hungry heat. Your nerves thrum, the vibration rattling to the tips of your toes, and you’re helpless to resist the urge to pull him closer.

The second one of your legs begins to hike up around Atsumu’s waist, he grabs both, urging you to wrap your thighs around him, and he groans into your mouth as you find yourself flush with the solid proof of his arousal.

“Ya have no fuckin’ clue how bad I’ve wanted you,” he murmurs, drawing a keening noise from your lips as he hotly mouths his way down the side of your neck.

On the court, Atsumu Miya is an indomitable force. He’s unwaveringly confident and effortlessly sure of himself as a setter, always in control.

The crowd falls quiet, the ball follows his trajectory.

It’s a practiced dance, and he’s the conductor.

But here, pressed up against the counter in his brother’s restaurant, with your fingers tangled in his hair and his warm, soft hands sliding up beneath your shirt to clutch your waist, there’s a lawless, frantic edge to him. For every precise, focused move—like a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear that he somehow just knows will make you gasp, and the dizzying way he cups the back of your head when he kisses you deeper—you can feel the wild, barely-restrained desire in the unfiltered chorus of groans you’re not even sure he’s aware are falling past his lips.

It’s slipping—his control.

And you don’t want him to stop.

“Atsumu,” you whine into his mouth when he finally, finally slides a hand up under your bra, cupping your breast and teasing at your sensitive, pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing his way around the curve of your jaw, only pausing to help you in your endeavor to take off your shirt.

He wastes no time in unclipping your bra, his deft fingers making quick work of the clip, and his expression is nothing short of lustful reverence when he takes in the sight of your naked breasts before him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly, taking a breast in each of his palms while he leans in to press a kiss to your sternum, and whatever you were going to say promptly exits your mind a beat later. Wet, hot heat engulfs your nipple, and you glance down, nearly choking on your own spit at the sight of Atsumu sucking on your breasts.

Rocking your hips into him, you let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your cunt, the fabric of his athletic shorts doing nothing to hide his thick, throbbing insistence. 

Atsumu moans against your tits, and the filthy, wet sound of him shamelessly lapping at them sends a fresh gush of arousal between your legs, your underwear now soaked with it. You reach between your bodies, doing your needy cunt no favors at all when you feel just how thick Atsumu is as you wrap your fingers around him.

“God, I’m gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he lets out a low, ragged sound caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“I’d rather you come somewhere else,” you tell him, pulling down his shorts and boxers to let his flushed, leaking shaft spring free.

Atsumu takes your face in both hands, kissing you hard and filthy as he unbuttons your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear and leaving both in a forgotten heap on the floor. And when you wrap your legs back around him and rub your slick folds down the length of his cock, you’re already dangerously close to coming from that alone, too. 

He slides a finger into you, muttering a string of expletives under his breath when he feels the sopping squelch of how wet you already are for him. One digit soon becomes two pumping in and out of you, and while it’s still not enough to quell the greedy desperation he’s ignited, he’s barely begun rubbing circles into your aching clit when you’re already shaking in his arms and moaning in the throes of your climax. 

And then he’s stroking himself, groaning softly, like he thinks this is what he has to do now to take care of his throbbing cock. 

Like you’re satisfied already, as if you’ve somehow had your fill of him.

As if two fingers between your legs would ever be enough to encapsulate all that you want of Atsumu fucking Miya. 

(And really, it’s a lot, quite frankly. Now that you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.)

“Fuck me, Atsumu,” you plead.

He pauses, chest heaving, voice rough as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you exhale against his lips, and his mouth slots against yours as he notches his shaft at your entrance and sinks his cock into you.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you’re reduced to moans and whimpers while he stretches you open as your entire body floods with pleasure, your mind hazy with desire. Once he bottoms out, you feel so full you want to cry. You want to keep your legs wrapped around his waist and cockwarm him all night. You want him to fuck you stupid. You want to ride his cock until you both can’t move.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, hips rocking as he thrusts in and out of you, your walls fluttering with pleasure at the rhythmic push and drag. “Wanna take you home and do this again and again.”

“Me too,” you tell him, and you can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you at your admission, his fingertips tightening around your waist.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, grinning against your mouth. 

The pleasure is rapidly building up inside of you again, the filthy slide of Atsumu’s tongue in your mouth only further fanning the flames, one hand trailing back up to tease at your hard nipples.

And you want to tell him, “Same,” because you’re dangerously close to the edge already, years of studiously ignored desire all spilling over into a crazed, insatiable need that’s making your pussy throb.

But instead what you whine is, “Harder.”

Atsumu groans, the noise nearly as lewd as the continuous sound of his cock pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the only warning that he heard you before he picks you up off of the counter, plunging right back into you the moment you’re lying flat on the floor.

With the ground beneath your bodies for purchase, Atsumu begins to roughly pound into you, the fingers of one hand tangling with your own as the other trails toward your clit.

You moan his name repeatedly, like some fucked up carnal prayer on the floor of Onigiri Miya, and as he rubs circles into your swollen clit and whispers your own name just as desperately, you come so hard everything goes white, every sensation in your body drowned out by the sheer downpour of pleasure that you’re uncontrollably shaking with. Atsumu follows suit a moment later, pulling out of you and furiously fisting his cock until hot, thick spurts of cum are splattering all over your chest, groaning as he watches his seed paint your tits.

And just because you’re fairly certain what it’ll do to him, you reach down and swipe a glob off of your nipple while you both try to catch your breath, holding eye contact with him as you lick the cum off of your finger and swallow it. 

Atsumu’s lips part as he stares at you, eyes widening a little bit before he looks down at his cock, which is already twitching again with interest. 

–

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in Atsumu’s sheets, his phone lights up on his nightstand—

Samu: congrats Samu: there is literally a security camera in the shop Samu: also you’re disgusting you own a whole fuckin apartment to fuck in Samu: die slowly

-

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated<3!

[sage-lights]

with you, there's no pretending

word count: 2165 chapter: 1/? Ever since freshman orientation, when Angela first noticed Amanda sitting in the gym bleachers, she’d been head-over-heels in love with her.

Angela was going to kill Arasha.  

Earlier that week, Arasha asked Angela if she could interview her about playing Grace Chasity in their high school’s upcoming production of Nerdy Prudes Must Die. Arasha eagerly volunteered to write this article for her journalism class, hoping that Angela’s insight would help her assignment stand out. Angela knew her friend had been working all year to impress her teacher and secure the position of Editor-in-Chief for the next school year.  

Just for fun, Angela made her best friend beg, playfully acting stubborn and difficult about the request—much to Chanse's amusement, who had a blast recording the whole thing and laughing at the two of them. In the end, Angela agreed, and the girls made plans to meet at their favorite local coffee shop on Saturday.  

That morning, she took Spork to the vet for a routine checkup, which, thankfully, hadn’t taken longer than anticipated. After making a quick stop to drop him off at home, Angela arrived at the coffee shop just in time to find a table near the back before the usual afternoon rush filled the place. She sat facing the door so Arasha could easily spot her when she arrived, then mindlessly scrolled on her phone to pass the time.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Angela noticed a girl with long, wavy brunette hair enter the coffee shop. She looked up, expecting to see her friend rushing over to greet her. But instead, in her place stood Amanda Lehan-Canto.  

Ever since freshman orientation, when Angela first noticed Amanda sitting in the gym bleachers, she’d been head-over-heels in love with her. She remembered leaning over and whispering (a little too loudly judging from the pointed looks the kids in front of them had given her) to ask Chanse who the new girl was.  

“Who are you talking about? There’s like a million people here,” Chanse responded, wildly swiveling his head around trying to figure out who Angela was referring to.  

Angela slapped his arm and pointed discreetly to the girl a couple of rows above them, “Over there, idiot!”  

“Oooooooh, someone’s got a crushhhhhh!”  

“Stop it! Could you be any more obvious?” She sunk further into her seat, “Do you know who she is or not?”  

“Nope, but I could find out.”  

Later, Angela learned her name and that she’d just moved to Los Angeles from Boston. Despite Chanse’s insistence that Angela should introduce herself and befriend her, Angela just hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it.  

That was almost four years ago, and even now in their senior year, Angela was no closer to Amanda than when she first laid eyes on her. Even when they’d been in the same AP Psychology class sophomore year, Angela had always been too nervous to say more than a few pleasantries. She didn’t want to come off as overly eager or that she was scaring Amanda away.

Angela admired Amanda from afar, how she greeted a table of friends with hugs and a “How are you?” and how freely she chatted and laughed with the baristas. The coffee shop seemed to brighten with her presence. 

But then Amanda turned and met Angela’s gaze. Shit, she’d been caught staring. Angela tried her best to recover, her face reddening. She turned in the other direction, pretending to search through her tote bag for something. She fumbled with her AirPods and pulled out a book, quickly flipping it open to her bookmarked page.  

“Hey! Angela, right?” Oh no, Angela recognized that voice. She glanced up at the girl speaking to her. Thank goodness for all those acting classes that taught her how to mask her emotions. She hoped her face looked calm and nonchalant, but also friendly and inviting. Oh, and maybe cool and suave as well. Honestly, Angela would take anything over looking overwhelmed at the fact that her long-time crush was now talking to her.  

“That’s me!” Just be cool.  

Amanda sat down in the seat across from her, and that’s when the panic really set in. “I’m Amanda. We had AP Psych with Mr. Hecox together.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right!” She prayed that her voice wouldn’t embarrassingly start cracking, “His class was definitely an interesting one, especially with the random dark jokes he’d thrown into the middle of his presentations.”  

Amanda chuckled lightly at her comment, and Angela felt her smile widen and her shoulders loosen. But when there was no indication of her leaving, Angela got nervous again.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude, but is there a reason you sat down? Not that I mind talking to you. Not at all. It’s just, um, I’m meeting my friend, Arasha, here in a little bit—oh, you might know her from Journalism then. Since you’re the Editor-in-Chief this year, right? Well, so you probably know that she’s writing a piece on the school’s musical, and she asked to interview me. So, I don’t think you can stay here for long. Oh my god, I sound super rude right now, don’t I? Shoot, I swear I—,” 

“Angela, breathe,” Amanda leaned forward and placed a hand over hers, interrupting her rambling. A thousand questions began spinning around in her head. Can she tell I’m freaking out? Is my hand abnormally sweaty? Am I making a fool of myself right now? Is she this touchy with everyone? Why. Is she. Touching. My hand?!

So much for keeping it cool.

“Did Arasha not tell you? I’m actually filling in for her. She messaged our class on Slack this morning asking if someone could take over because she woke up super sick,” Amanda explained.

“Oh shoot, maybe I missed that text from her,” Angela opened her texts with Arasha and briefly scrolled through to check even though she knows for certain that this a certified Arasha prank.

angela: you’re kidding me arash no way you’re sick

Immediately, Angela got a response. She could just picture Arasha’s smug face.

arasha: oh yeahhh i’m totally sneezing up a storm rn

angela: arasha lalani more like arasha lie-lani

arasha: lame but you’ll thank me later now go have fun on your date! but not too much fun ;’)

angela: NOT A DATE i hate you sm

arasha: you’re welcomeee

Amanda raised an eyebrow playfully, “Everything good with Arasha?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Angela fumbles with her phone again, shoving into the pocket of her zip up hoodie without even turning it off.

“Okay, good.”

“Good.” Oh no, did I just make it weird?

Amanda pulls her laptop out of her purse, “Ready to get started then?”

“Let’s do this thing.”

Amanda readied her fingers over the keys and looked over at Angela, ready to take notes like a professional journalist. “So, what can audiences expect from your performance as Grace Chasity in Nerdy Prudes Must Die?”

“Soup,” Angela answers cheekily.

“I’m sorry, soup?”

“Yep, soup! I mean who doesn’t like soup? A classic chicken noodle? Or a butternut squash soup?” Angela gasps animatedly, “What about a garlic tomato bisque? With a grilled cheese?! Come on, how could anyone hate soup?”

Amanda chimes in with a grin, “Broccoli cheddar though? Very divisive, I will say!”

“Ugh! I do secretly love a broccoli cheddar!”

“So do I! But have to ask again, Angela, what does this have to do with Grace Chasity?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. I will say though, Grace’s preferred soup is definitely dirty.”

Amanda laughs, “I feel like you’re purposely trying to confuse me now.”

“Gotta sell tickets somehow, Amanda!” She winks, to which Amanda laughs again. That sound, the resonance of it, settles into Angela’s chest and fills her with a blooming warmth. 

As the interview progressed, Angela’s initial jitters fade away. Each question Amanda asked felt less like an interrogation and more like a conversation she’d have with friends. By the time they reached the final question, she realized she’d very much enjoyed Amanda’s company.

“Alright, I think that’s everything,” Amanda closed her laptop and slipped it back into her bag. “Thank you again for doing this interview with me. I know I’m not who you were expecting, but I’m glad I got to chat about the musical with you anyway.”

Angela shook her head bashfully. “Of course, it was no problem.”

They both gathered the rest of their things and stood up, though Amanda suddenly moved in for a hug. Angela returned the embrace, even though she was still a little shell-shocked from the whole afternoon. Note to self: Amanda’s a hugger.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Amanda pulled away. “I always forget not everyone’s down for physical touch, and then I go and make it uncomfortable by hugging you.”

“No, it was alright. Don’t worry about it,” smiled Angela, reassuring Amanda. Neither of the girls said anything after that, leaving them staring at each other in awkward silence for a little too long. At least, it was awkward for Angela, given the whole “I’m in love with you” part. She really hoped she wasn’t smiling too much like an idiot. Maybe she should stop smiling. No, that would be off-putting as hell to randomly stop smiling. Maybe she should say somethi—

Amanda cleared her throat, “It was nice talking to you. I hope to see you around sometime.” Phew.

She waved to the retreating Amanda, “Yeah, I’ll see you around.” But there was still a voice inside her that urged her to say something more. This is your chance, Angela!

“Wait!” Angela called out, causing Amanda to turn back around. “You should, um, get my number. You know, just in case you have any more questions while you write the article.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Amanda handed Angela her phone with an amused expression. Angela carefully entered her information on the new contact page and passed it back to Amanda before saying a last goodbye and letting Amanda walk out.

Angela blinked a couple of times, hoping to snap back into the present. It didn’t help—she was too dazed from the whole interaction. Amanda Lehan-Canto had just talked to her. Holy. Shit.

After collecting herself a little more, she hopped in her car and drove home. Every moment of their conversation replayed in Angela’s mind: the answers she had given, the stupid jokes she had cracked, the way Amanda had sounded when she laughed. She pinched her arm over and over again to prove to herself that this all really happened.

As she pulled into the driveway, her phone lit up with a notification from her group chat with Chanse and Arasha—it was unfortunately named “ANGELAAAAAAA!” after the way her friends often called her name in disappointment.

arasha: your location says you’re home angela spill how did it go

angela: wtf are you stalking me

arasha: that’s beside the point

chanse: explainnnn pleaseee

arasha:  i set ang up on a date with amanda lehan cantooooooooo

chanse: A DATE?!

angela: NOT! A! DATE!!! it was an interview that arasha FLAKED ON

arasha: semantics

chanse: HOW DID IT GO

angela: it was chill she asked me about nerdy prudes and i gave her my number in case she had follow up questions

chanse: you gave her your number???? damn ang is finally make some moves took you long enough

arasha: YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME MAN she would still be sitting on her ass pining away if it weren’t for me

angela: jeez it was just a casual thing calm yourselves

chanse: why don’t you text her and say you forgot to mention something earlier just to get the convo rolling

angela: um bitch i’m tryna play it cool here don’t wanna seem too eager plus i just realized i didn’t get her number…

chanse: angelaaaaaaaaaaaaaa dude you fumbled that big time

arasha: i put in so much work to make that happen and you fucked it wasted effort

chanse: you idiot i cannot believe you

arasha: you got no game fr

angela: Y’ALL I WAS PANICKING CAN YOU BE A LITTLE MORE GENTLE

chanse: no you don’t get a pass for this arash do you have her number

arasha: nah we text on slack also it would be hella strange if ang had her number without asking directly

chanse: ugh true i guess

At this point, she had made it up the stairs and into her bedroom. Frustrated with her friends, Angela tossed her phone onto her bed before promptly flopping down and burying her face into the pillows. And then, she screamed. So loud and so long that she barely heard the “ding” of a new notification.

Angela rolled over and felt around for her phone, already groaning at what she expected to be another annoying message from her annoying friends.

unknown number: hey this is amanda

Her eyes widened.

unknown number: i realized way too late that i never gave you my number so i thought i’d shoot you a text so you could saved it too :)

Angela threw her phone again and went back to screaming.

a lil author's note: i started this amangela high school au a longggg time ago, practically when this blog started because it's one of my favorite tropes to mull around in my mind. funnily enough, this first chapter was written for the smosh girlies week back in feb, but i deleted the whole thing because i hated what i wrote, so the first draft has been lost to time. then, i wrote it again and abandoned it again. it wasn't until my wonderful friend @babychosen asked me about it recently that i decided to revisit it and finally finish it for all y'all to enjoy! this is for @babychosen, @unknownteapot, @poppyfamily, and @shesmore-shoebill. thanks guys for always yelling about amangela with me <3

[dracowars]

Hi! Since requests are open can you so this? (Reader has a laid back persona)

Headcannons or one shot fred wealsey x muggleborn slytherin reader that smokes? YOU DON'T HAVE TO WRITE THAT PART IF UR UNCOMFTARBLE THO,,, she visits the burrow for like the 1274939th time cause they all love her‼️‼️

The scenery at the burrow is up to you but I just wanna add this little thing- she and Arthur get along well since she's a muggle. Atleast for an hour each time she's there she introduces Arthur to her mini muggle toys (lego, race car kit, UNO) and they play til she has to go home

Hope this isn't too complicated;; take your time if you decide to write this!

visiting the burrow as fred's girlfriend

pairing: fred x muggleborn!slytherin!reader

a/n: arthur weasley has my whole heart <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

Coming back to the Burrow - Fred's home - has developed into one of your favorite things to do since the beginning of your relationship

It always feels like coming home, even though it technically isn't your home

The first time, you were extremely stressed out

Fred had to assure you at least a hundred times that his parents and siblings will love you and that you have nothing to worry about

He was correct, however, entering their Gryffindor household as a Slytherin made you freak out

Usually, you are very laid back and there is not a lot that can stress you out, but that day turned you into the complete oppositie of what you thought you were

The more you went there, the more you were integrated into the family

Now, you are seen as an equal member and an integral part to the weasleys

It warms your heart every time when Fred's mother, once again, cooks the most delicious dinner for her big family, always considering your likes and dislikes as well

She even went ahead and bought you your favorite muggle snack

How she knew that? You have no idea

All you know is that it's not only you who loves the snack, but Arthur Weasley does so too

And whenever he gets the chance, he will ask you about everything related to the muggle world

What is a spork? Why do you have signs across the street for cars? Or what even is the real use of a broom?

You heard all of these questions before and you were always more than happy to answer every single one of them

Seeing Arthur being this interested in your world makes you feel kind of proud

And it makes you feel appreciated in some kind of way

In addition, he always seems really happy whenever you can bring some light onto the mysterious things the muggle world produced, thus you gladly tell him everything you know

That one time Fred thought his father was asking you enough questions, but he didn't even listen to him and just kept asking why rubber ducks are such a big deal in the human world

A different time, you even got Arthur a Hot Wheel and he couldn't stop talking about it the whole evening, making every single one of his family members - including you - play with it at least once

He was so fascinated and since you made him happy with it, it made you happy in reverse

You don't know what you did in your previous life to deserve to have these amazing people in your life

But you couldn't be more glad

And you are sure that you will never leave this family

At one point, you are a Weasley

[for-the-sake-of-color]

Teaser #2 for chapter 2 of The Den

[Teaser #1]

After a fantastic couple nights visiting The Den as relief and a reward for spending his daylight hours defending his pride at the Medical Conference, Kix decides to leave his massively hungover cousin Coric at the hotel and head back to the night club by himself. There was a certain shorter man that had refused to leave his thoughts. He's just lucky the Vampire was as eager for his return as Kix was to see him.

Excerpt #2 under the Cut! :D

Dr. Brek and Kix bicker at the conference some more, Coric just raising an eyebrow at his side like ‘can you believe this guy?’. Though his interrogation seemed a little less... pointed today, as though the shorter Doctor was distracted by something. Still, his criticisms of Kix’s idea of diagnostic procedure was no less annoying by the fact that Dr.Brek liked to assume instead of figure out.

Thankfully the Doctor was a researcher and not a primary physician, was Kix’s conclusion of that conversation.

Kix himself was distracted, of course, needing to step away every couple of hours to change the bandage on his leg. He should have been paying more attention to the presentations, not like he wasn’t still taking notes, but he couldn't help that his thoughts kept drifting back towards what tonight was sure to bring, and the sheer pleasure the night before had brought him.  He hoped he could impress, it had... well despite the fun that Coric had poked at him the other day, it had actually been a while since he’d gotten laid. 

He really didn't want to be the only one receiving, as well. Because while sure, that blowie had been amazing, he wanted... he wanted Nihlus to know his attraction wasn’t as one sided as it had sort of seemed these past couple of nights. Kix wanted to give him as much as he had received, if the Vampire would let him.  

He half considered bringing Nihlus some of the desert from the event's catering. This was, as Kix sat on his bed that evening eating his meal across from Coric, probably the best damn cheesecake he had eaten in his entire life, silky and sweet with a dark cherry topping that had him of course thinking of the Vampire.

“You going to finish that?” Kix asked Coric consideringly, pointing at the man's own slice

“Take my cake and I’ll take your hand,” His cousin replied, spork on the defensive

Kix snorted as he took another bite, “Fair enough.” 

He did have to admit to himself, showing up with a single serving of cheesecake would have been very strange, even if the strangest part was actually his mind's insistence on considering sharing with Nihlus at all. Kix was absurdly infatuated with him. Actually, he was far too infatuated already when he thought about it. 

It was a slightly sobering thought, that in a week he would be leaving Nihlus behind, to return to his own home and his actual job damn near across the country. He couldn't afford to continue to get attached to him as fast as he currently was. But Kix was never really that good at ‘casual’ sex, or, well, at keeping it casual. At least it helped that he didn’t truly know Nihlus at the moment.

He would just... make sure he didn’t know. Surely that would do it? Help make sure he couldn’t miss what he never really had.

“Dude what crawled up your ass and died?” Coric startled Kix out if his dwelling by asking

“Wh-what?” 

Coric raised an eyebrow at him, “You just got this look on your face like you stepped in dog shit, something wrong?”

Kix shook his head as if to clear it, “Yea just thinking too hard about something that really isn't that serious.”

“Well you wanna go out tonight about it? Ah though I think I’ll refrain from the drinking, personally.”

“I...” Kix trailed off as he stared at his cousin. How did he completely forget to tell Coric that, “I have plans, tonight. Uh, in a couple hours.”

Coric narrowed his eyes, “What kind of plans, and with who?”

Kix chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “Okay so you remember that Vampire-”

“No fucking way, you’ve already planned on going back to the Den without me?”

“No! Well, not really. I’m picking him up there but uh, he got a hotel room for us? Should I explain the birds and bee’s part of it with you, too?”

Coric snorted at that, “No I think I can figure the rest out myself,” and then he sighed dramatically, flopping back in his chair, hand over his forehead, “I should have known you were going to abandon me here, all alone, for a hot piece of ass.”

With a roll of his eyes Kix replied, “Yea, uh-huh, sorry that I forgot to tell you, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out with your night.”

Knowingly, Coric asked, “are these plans just for tonight or?”

Kix barked out a laugh at that, “I sure hope not! Gods Coric, this guy has a stranglehold on my-”

“You know I don't really need to hear that.”

“-On my mind, thanks.” Kix replied acerbically, “As if you deserve the fun details.”

“I had enough of your fun details in college, thanks. You sure about this though? Meeting him alone? You did just meet the guy, no matter what you two were up to a couple nights ago.”

His concern was... touching, actually. “I think it’ll be fine, if you're worried I can text you the location when I get there. I mean, I think he’s just after sex, he’s still the one paying for everything.”

“Yea I’d like you to text me,” Coric nodded, and then he smirked, “I mean, what the hell am I supposed to tell Rex otherwise if you turn up missing? ‘Sorry I let your nepotism hire get eaten by a vampire’?”

Kix crumpled up and threw his napkin at his cousin, who didn’t even bother to dodge it, “Stop calling me that, you’re in the same boat, anyways.”

Coric just tossed it in the trash with a shrug, “At least I can admit it. Still, be careful alright?”

“I will,” Kix replied, fully knowing he would do nothing of the sort.

-

They’re mostly silent on the drive to the hotel Nihlus had chosen, after Kix picks him up at the back of the Den and they exchange greetings and a quick kiss.

Once they get to the entrance of the Hotel, some place on the edge of town, Nihlus does most of the talking to a rather skeptical looking Attendant who kept glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes as they were checking him in, though they didn't say much more than “Please, enjoy your stay!” as they handed him the keycards.

The walk up to their room was mostly silent as well, with a quiet “Thank you.” From Nihlus as Kix held open the door for him. From there the Vampire just turned to watch him.

The room was... really fucking nice, actually, as Kix stepped in and looked around. There were separate rooms for the couch and tv set up, though it looked like the bedroom area had a tv in it as well. Though Kix knew the television wasn’t quite why they were here. He decided to give the bed a try, entering the room to hop on it, walking past the bathroom to get there, when he realized there was a whole jacuzzi behind a shoulder high wall separating it and the bed. 

Kix’s eyes widened as he saw it, and he was thrilled when he hopped onto the bed and realized that not only was it memory foam, the sheets were soft as hell too. He’d even bet a tenner the pillows were much the same.

This place was luxury.

-

Nihlus was giddy as he watched Kix explore the room, the younger man's face going from nervous to excited as he surveyed the area. The way his expression lit up as he saw the jacuzzi, the biggest reason Nihlus selected this room in particular, was nothing short of breathtaking.

“You like it?” Nihlus asked, though he thought he could probably already tell the answer

“This is so nice!” Kix replied as he practically flung himself across the bed, “Oh this is really nice!” 

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, “Only the best for you, of course.”

Nihlus gave him another minute of looking around before he tentatively asked, “Are you ready to... begin our night?”

Kix flushed deeply, “Yea- I- yes, I’d love to uh... begin? I want you, I keep wanting you, however I can have you.”

“Of course you do.” Nihlus says with a flash of his fangs, “I’d expect nothing less.”

-

Nihlus pauses, and then states to Kix how he feels ridiculous keeping his mask on while they were in private, so he gives Kix the option of knowing who he is now, or perhaps... wearing the satin blindfold Nihlus got for him?

It was a damn shame though because besides the highly personal nature of his identity, Kix wanted to see... all of him. Tip to toe Kix wanted all that soft skin on display for his eyes and not just his hands. But the attachment... he really did have to keep at least this bit of distance between them. Anything to keep from prematurely breaking his own heart.

“Can’t you just keep the mask on for a little while?” Kix asked from the edge of the bed, putting on his best pleasing expression as the Vampire slid the first of his numerous layers off across the room, exposing that shapely ass once more as he tilted his head in Kix’s direction, placing his hands on his hips, listening as the to-be Doctor finished with, “I would really like to see the rest of you, at least, for a bit.”

“And what do I get out of it?” 

This again? What else could Kix possibly offer other than, “My mouth, on you, in the proper places?”

Nihlus snorted at him as he removed the next layer, revealing his wonderful freckled shoulders once more, though while his back was also smattered with freckles there were countless well-faded scars crossing his back that implied a story that sank something of a stone in Kix’s guts.

Quietly, he got up, and ran his fingers along them. 

He wanted to ask. He knew he shouldn’t, of course. That seemed like it could be even more private than seeing his face, to a serious degree, and so he didn't ask. As it were, though, he never had to.

“I am old, Kix.” Nihlus stated softly, “I’ve lived a long life, and little of it has been kind.”

And then he turned, so his bare torso was flush with Kix’s own, who had yet to start undressing, and finished slowly with, “But my past matters little, now, as the last few decades have been much more... freeing.” 

Kix wasn’t quite sure what to say, so instead he just leaned down and kissed the vampire deeply, pressing his lower back into the table he had been laying his clothes on. After a second, once Nihlus slipped his tongue past Kix’s lips, the resident lifted him up and onto the table for easier access, having a great time mapping out the contours of Nihlus chest and shoulders with his fingers.

Nihlus started to tug Kix’s shirt off, beginning to work on his belt in the process, when Kix made the executive decision to start ridding Nihlus of his pants.

As he tugged on the waistline of his dress pants, Kix asked lowly, “I think it’s about time I repay you for the other night, huh?

The vampire tilted his head to the side and the back, and Kix took the chance to nibble at his neck, nuzzling the surprising warmth of his pulse, sending a deep rumble through Nihlus’ chest as he chuckled at the contact.

“I suppose I could let you have your fun,” the Vampire replied, lifting himself off the table enough to pull his pants off the rest of the way, exposing a trail of short dark hairs leading down into a pair of.... Some really nice black lace panties.

Kix scoffed as he kneeled down, resting his cheek on Nihlus’ inner thigh, sliding a finger under the waistline of his hip and giving it a gentle pull, 

“Did you wear these just for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Nihlus replied dismissively, trailing a line down Kix’s face, a smirk crossing his lips as he finished with, “that’s my job,”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Sweet Home Alabama

Series Pairing: Linley Floyd (Mitchell) x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Linley Floyd (Mitchell)

Series Warnings: Infidelity, Mentioned Miscarriage, Lying

Series Masterlist

INTRODUCING: BRADLEY BRADSHAW

It hasn't been easy becoming the youngest Housing Secretary the State of New York has ever seen. Bradley loves what he does - truly, wholeheartedly. It hasn't been quite so easy to find a woman who can accept that. Until he met Linley. She hadn't been what he was expecting. But she's his everything. It's supposed to be a woman's dream to get married, right? To have the pick of their engagement ring from Tiffany's of all places and see that robin's egg blue box with it's delicate lettering and pure white ribbon. But that's not how Linley reacts. Maybe she's just nervous about the family she's marrying into? Maybe it's his mom - because Bradley loves her, he does, but she can be a bit much. Or maybe it's because he hasn't met any of her family. Any which way, Bradley's sure he can bring her around. Love is supposed to conquer all, isn't it?

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @horseshoegirl

[esthyradler]

Is Zim ever afraid to be alone with Tallest Miyuki and or Spork?

Does he ever bring someone along with him like Skoodge or the Membrane siblings if he knows he'll spend time with them?

What does Miyuki think of Skoodge and his friendship with Zim?

What do Spork and Miyuki think of Zim's "friends?"

A little bit nervous, that he tries to hide by acting better than themXD

But when they are home ,he usually have the Computer there to keep things getting too out of hand(since Spork is under "house arrest"and can't leave for a while lol)

And for outside, who would mess with him while Minimoose is around?

And for the friends thing, Miyuki definietly doesn't have nostalgic feelings at all

[rayrayor]

Hey Kat! @mybrainismelted

Here is Drabble challenge 34 , as asked.

“ You work for me. you are my slave “

Please note, GILF ( Ginger I’d Like to F@*k )

Ian was finally home after ten years in the military, two Purple Hearts, and a Medal of Honor. Gnarly chest scars and nightmares about the brothers he could not save. He was not ready to go into EMT work yet but needed routine.

Mandy Milkovich. Bestie and Beard since freshman year. Flew out to Walter Reed and held his hand, making sure he wanted to still live. Now a regular at his and Carl's apartment. Her brothers owned Kings of the Southside Ink and her brother Mickey, the star tattooist, temperamental shit and hot beyond the dirty, angry older brother who would flop on the couch and give him and Mandy crap.

He was also in need of an assistant and receptionist, and somehow Mandy talked Ian into the job. After two weeks, he understood why the position was open. The appointment book was a mess, their insta needed an upgrade, and the complimentary beverage and snack service reminded Ian of the psych hospital.

And then there was his direct boss, Mickey. Surly and sexy, the man had no filter and no boundaries. Hard working for a man you either wanted to strangle or suck off. It was also harder as his phone blew up each day with the requests, demands, and ramblings of the raven-haired thug.

He had just come back from his run when the phone vibrated.

Pocket Jefe: Hey, is the place you get coffee the place with the coffee I like?☹️

GILF: You drink it black; literally, anywhere I go has the coffee you like.

Pocket Jefe: That’s what I pay you for; how the fuck would I know which shop? I never go to any.

GILF: That’s because your ass was banned from like 9 by the shop because of your donut tantrums.

Pocket Jefe: What, you don’t care about donuts?”

GILF : Well, I am always a fan of a glazed hole.😜

Pocket Jefe:🖕🏻

Back at the shop, Mickey was beet red, grabbed his coffee, and fled to his station.

——————————

Ian was enjoying the quiet of Staples, which he knew would not last. His phone lit up with photo of a sleeve of gears  and lilies, Mickey.

Pocket Jefe:🎤 Whips and chains excite me.

GILF: Are you asking or telling me? 

Pocket Jefe: Keep up the Gallagher. Song. What’s the name of the song with those lyrics?

GILF : Ok, again, I cannot read your mind; I need a little more than your professing love of BDSM for me. Which FYI , I am a fan. You a power bottom by chance? Also, it’s Rhiana, S&M.

Pocket Jefe: Jeez, this assistant of mine makes my dick twitch.

Pocket Jefe: Shit, did I send you a text by accident? FYI, not about you.

GLIF: What text, Mick? 

Pocket Jefe: Don’t worry, your pretty head, sweetheart, just get back here, oh, and bring me a big ass snickers. 🍫

Ian smiled and filed the information he had just given away for a later date.

———————————— 

Ian had just settled after a long day of explaining to Iggy that if he did not write down appointments, Ian could not add them. He had ice cream, jacked off to a certain pair of blue eyes, and was about to watch Drag Race. He had just settled in when his phone almost vibrated off the coffee table.

Pocket Jefe: WTF, Gallagher! You asked Colin about ink?

Pocket Jefe: What you don’t trust me, that stings, man. ☹️

Pocket Jefe: I do much better scar coverage.

Pocket Jefe: not being nosy, but saw those when you changed into a skin-tight tee. This is a semi-professional atmosphere Army, not a rub-in tug.

GILF: I never asked you cause last time I mentioned your work, you were your usually grumpy prick self and threatened to stab me with your Taco Bell spork. You were watching me change; I used to charge guys to see that. So you think of yourself as my pimp? 

Pocket Jefe: Fuck you, is what I think. Enough of this touchy-feely bullshit. Enough chitchat; my appointment is running late. Can you go feed Carl Barks and Noodles for me? Oh, and get me some Pringles, a BBQ, and a pack of smokes. You know the code to my loft.👍

GILF: You know I am off, right?”

Pockey Jefe: You get off when I tell you to get off. You work for me. You are my slave. "C'mon, please.“

GILF: Fucking fine, you need me to peel you a grape too?  🤬

Pocket Jefe: I mean, I wouldn’t say no. Seriously, when you get there, just text me and let me know everything is fine. If you want to stay, we can maybe talk about a coverup piece or something.

GILF: Ohhhh, can we have pizza and a sleepover too?

Pocket Jefe: Your pushing it, keep talking back, and your going from slave to sex slave.

Pocket Jefe: Umm, damn autocorrect, sax slave, not sex 🎷

GILF: Whoring me out to Kenny G? 🥹Bummer.

Pocket Jefe: 🖕🏻

Ian grinned. He was about to get either fired or fucked; he hoped for the latter.

————————

Mickey was just cleaning up his station, and his focus was not on his big fat tip from this work.

Ian Gallagher.

He secretly crushed on the gangly redhead when he would hang with Mandy. He knew about Ian’s history as a medic and the almost-life-ending injury that ended his career. But he saved five that day, who, by accounts, should not have survived the firefight. Deep scars were over that broad chest and hard abs. The story made those scars beautiful. He was always flustered around Gallagher, but he thought he hid it well. 

His phone vibrated, he glanced, his mouth went dry, and the warm tingle went to his crotch. Gallagher sent a photo.

Tight Kings tee, a truly Godzilla-size cock trying to break out of blue boxer briefs. A motherfucking collar. And on a silver platter no less, a small whip, a chain, grapes, and a big ass tube of strawberry lube. 

A text 

GILF: Waiting for you to tell me when I can get off; may I peel you a grape in the meantime, sir? 🫦

Mickey grabbed his keys and jogged out to his car, eager to go blow Ian’s sax. 

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (7-13 Apr 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 If This Is As Far As We Go (BeauRadley) - 124K, stucky no-powers AU - after a year of being phenomenal hookup buddies, bucky ends their arrangement & throws steve into a tailspin - slow burn, angsty, oblivious steve slowly realizing his true feelings, good supporting cast

😊 Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid (Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert) - cute graphic novel about art students forming a softball team to exploit a financial aid loophole

😍 Death in the Spires (KJ Charles, author; Tom Lawrence, narrator) - historical murder mystery set in 1905 Oxford - another KJC absolute banger: incredible sense of place, fantastic characters, perfectly done 'whodunnit' tension and a HIGHLY SATISFACTORY resolution. Loved every word

💖💖 +76K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

The Man, the Myth, the Legend (sparklyslug) - Check Please!: gen, 2.9K - Holster's beatboxing skills brings all the a capella groups to the Haus - a short, fun, funny, outsider POV fic

Say it louder for the people in the back (redhook) - MCU: shrinkyclinks, 14K - reread, forever fave - sometimes you just get a yearning to reread the best glory hole fic ever written

In Focus (sparklyslug) - Check Please!: zimbits, 6K - Jack's photography eye knows what's up before his conscious brain does

Entering Orbit (museaway) - Star Trek AOS: spirk, 30K - good post-AOS canon-divergent fic where Jim goes home to Iowa to escape the press & Spock joins him

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Hot Ones - Conan O'Brien

QI - series S, ep 13

Game Changer - s6, e5 {Bingoception}

Um, Actually - s9, e4

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Dawn of Justice" (s21, e14)

D20: Adventuring Party - "We're Running on 200%" (s16, e14)

Death In Paradise - s11, e4-8; s12 e0-8, s13 e0-8

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Working - How to Be Both a Critic and a Creator

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #10: Of the Reaching Green

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep10 "Of the Reaching Green"

Short Wave - How Climate Change And Physics Affect Baseball

Consider This from NPR - Bad Omens Or The Cycle of Nature? How The Ancient World Viewed Eclipses

⭐ Armchair Expert - Anna Kendrick [Rerelease from 1/9/23]

Today, Explained - Is college still worth it?

The Sporkful - Jewish Food Is More Than Matzoh Balls

WikiHole - BEYONCÉ (with Zoë Chao, Nat Faxon and Poppy Liu)

⭐ All Songs Considered - Songs to make you laugh, with 'Weird Al' Yankovic

In Defense of Fandom - Season 2 Episode 2: Putting my theory to the test

Dinner’s on Me - Orville Peck

⭐ Switched on Pop - Chasing old sounds: Djo's "End of Beginning" with Joe Keery

⭐ 99% Invisible #577 - The Society of Ambiance Makers and Elegant Persons

⭐ Vibe Check - A Special Conversation with Ada Limón

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Brown Mountain Lights

Short Wave - The Order Your Siblings Were Born in May Play a Role in Identity and Sexuality

⭐ Code Switch - How Frederick Douglass launched generations of Black and Irish solidarity

⭐ Decoder Ring - Can the “Bookazine” Save Magazines?

⭐ Imaginary Worlds - African Sci-Fi Looks to a Future Climate

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #11: Promises Promises

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep11 "Promises Promises"

What Next: TBD - Does Google Suck Now?

Short Wave - What To Know About The New EPA Rule Limiting 'Forever Chemicals' In Tap Water

Code Switch - Reflecting on the legacy of O.J. Simpson

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Atlas Obscura Live: Two Places And A Lie

Dear Prudence - I Lost a Lot of Weight and Now I Enjoy Being a Mean Girl. Help!

It's Been a Minute - The car culture wars; plus, the problem with child stars

Endless Thread - RIP Lil Miquela

Shedunnit - You Probably Imagined It!

Armchair Expert - John Cena

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - [One Shot] A County Affair: Prologue

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Presenting Bonnie Raitt

Lowrider Oldies

Huge House Anthems

Djo

Classic Soul BBQ

A LA SALA [Khruangbin] {2024}

Presenting Khruangbin

Happy Beats

'80s One-Hit Wonders

Feel-Good Classic Rock

[crowofjudgements-blog]

Heyy!

I saw your posts about your spidersona (?) Bonnie, and I wanted to ask if you have random fun facts about them (things like they usually dress their cat in cute clothing)!

I found you character really interesting, so I'd like to know more about them :)

Hi!! Thank you so much for your ask. I'm literally fiending for any reason to talk about this crazy cat lady

Bonnie grew up in and out of the foster care system up until her father went to prison when she was 14.

She took on her mother's last name because their father refused to sign the birth certificate of a daughter.

She raised her two younger twin siblings from the time she was 14

They had the entirety of her undergraduate degree (philosophy, housing, and Juris Doctor in New York paid for in scholarships and bursaries (she's a damn smart cookie).

During their post-secondary education, Bonnie worked as a cam girl to help support her siblings back home and would frequently make trips back to New Orleans to make sure they were taken care of.

She had a deep, irrational fear of clowns.

Bonnie's world and New York are harshly polluted and damaged to the point of no return. The age expectancy is like 50 years old because of how bad it is. There's literal acid rain every once in a while.

Bonnie lives in a tiny studio apartment with barely a pot to piss in. The contents of their apartment are as follows; an air mattress, a fold-out chair, a box television, ALL the cat necessities, and a spork. (This lady is destitute)

She takes better care of her cat than they take care of themself.

Fenêtre's full name is Fenêtre Maximilien Alexandre-Beauchamp Soileau and he is a distinguished little gentleman (street rat).

Bonnie, as it stands, is not currently working at the age of 32. They took bereavement leave after the death of her fiancé and could just... never bring herself to go back, couldn't stand their coworker's pity.

Bonnie was bitten by her spider later in life, around 31, around the time when her fiancé died and she had to terminate her pregnancy (that's right!! They were briefly pregnant)

She mainly survives on fiending and gambling.

The judicial system never gave her justice for the murder of her fiancé so, well, they had to take it into her own hands (she killed his murderers in cold blood).

Her New York thinks they're a villain.

Bonnie nearly beat the daylights out of Peter when they first met because he interrupted a poker game she was about to win big on (prick).

Fenêtre is just as sassy, if not more so, as Bonnie.

Bonnie never really celebrated holidays as a child so as an adult they go all out, but their decorations are always ass. Think of a bald Christmas tree. Literally no one tells them though, they just let her live in their delusional happiness.

She does, in fact, dress Fenêtre up in little sweaters, especially around winter cause they don't want their baby to freeze (he's a Serbian cat, a literal ball of fluff).

Bonnie has a terribly weakened immune system which only got worse after they were bitten so she's frequently sick and bed-bound.

Bonnie LOVES ferry boats, to an unhealthy degree.

Bonnie instantly became friends with Hobie Brown and those two are menaces together. They cause absolute chaos in the Spider Society and laugh about it over tea and buttered biscuits.

That's all I have for now!! Please let me know if you want any specific information or if you'd like me to dive into any part of this character. They're my passion project, I foam at the mouth for her. Thank you for your ask :) In the meantime, enjoy this image of a very happy Fenê.

[doginprogress]

Spork

Spork is a teensy tiny ten month old Silken Windhound who was a completely unexpected but lovely surprise. A friend reached out to me in December about a spunky little girl who needed placing in a sport/show home. She had heard I was interested in Silkens and I told her I hadn’t planned on bringing home a puppy while I was still raising another puppy, I let her talk me into a trial run. And that trial run became permanent. Everyone who has met Spork has loved her. She is an incredibly endearing little bandicoot who loves people and dogs alike. She’s tough enough to hang with the beezer girls and hold her own, but she also loves to cuddle and snuggle and has the best settle. She has also managed to charm not only her BFF Ponzi, but also Azula and grumpy little man Tansy. She’s on a vacation with a friend currently, but when she’s back we’re going to start looking for some UKC shows and planning for her to start some sports this fall after she turns 1.

[happyanderes]

🍴🍰Sweetheart, Sweet tooth 🍰🍴

Yandere cakeverse project prologue

Quick explanation to cakeverse. It’s a spin-off of the famous Omegaverse, but instead of the Alphas, betas, and Omegas, we got Forks, your everyday normal people, and Cakes. Forks lose their sense of taste gradually as they grow. Cakes are just like normal people, except they smell and taste (both flesh and bodily fluids) like cake to Forks, which drives Forks crazy. Cakes aren’t aware of their own identities, which makes it even more dangerous. I did a little bit of modification to this setting and even if they’re called Cakes, it extends to all sweets.

Holding a suitcase, you look up to the sky of this city, just not long ago, your taste disappeared completely, slowly faded out like the end scene of a movie.

Desserts were your favorite things in the world, having the sweetness melt away in your mouth brings pure happiness to your heart. Yet now, everything is bland, like this gray, gray world.

After accidentally biting a chunk out of your friend who, apparently is a cake, you escaped and moved to a new city, hoping to find help as they say they have ways to help Forks.

Even though you know there isn't medication for Forks yet, you still moved in, in hopes of retaining your sense of taste and going back to being normal.

The moment you step into the town, your sense of smell was flooded with sweetness, you feel your stomach sink when you do. It’s a familiar yet overwhelming smell, the sickening smell of the forbidden fruit. Your body tense up, your hands shaking. You should escape, you don’t believe in your self control, but the fee for breaking your lease is way too high and you don’t have any more money, not after that little bottle of cake blood.

You curse at yourself for giving in to that Cake’s offer.

Slowly, you follow the map on your phone, to your new place. You applied for a job a while ago, a night shift for a fast food restaurant, no matter how much it pains you to work with food, it’s the best paying one you can get. This is your life now, you think bitterly.

Days went by painfully slow, but a month has passed since you got to this town. As you hand out food through the drive through window, you see the child in the back seat staring at you, his lips are moving, you don’t know what he said, but you have an idea when the child’s finger points at you, his mother quickly pulling his finger away.

You look terrible, your hair is a mess, there are dark circles under your eyes, and no matter how hard you try, the wrinkles between your brows are unable to smooth down.

In summary, you look like you’re on the verge of insanity and/or death.

In this town, for some reason, you smell Cakes here and there, even when they’re supposed to be rare, your hunger for tasting something sweet again often leads you to trail off to follow the sweet scent they emit until you manage to pull yourself out of it. You are often afraid of the time when your sanity returns a little too late, and something you’ll forever regret has been done.

After what felt like forever, your shift ended, you head home, to a small castle made up of four walls, big enough for only you to curl up inside.

As you open the door and kick your shoes off, you find a letter laying right behind your door, it looks strange, you bend down to pick the letter up and look at it. An alluring sweet scent emits, wafting into your nose and tickling your sanity.

Like you’re under a spell, slowly, you tear the letter open.

Here is a list of the sweets I plan to do. I also take requests!

Chocolate ganache

Macarons

Mint chocolate ice cream

Scones

Red velvet cake

Spork

[askiireplacements]

Welcome to The Blog (Links)

Right now, the blog is in Beta. As such, you can only ask the Replacements questions for now.

(I had to bold the first part and color the links because someone immediately disregarded that. And the bios. Don't disregard the bios.)

Read More has the Synopsis for the Blog. Grief is a big theme, since a lot of the living (non-replaced) objects are going through a lot.

Rules are located here. And here are three separate links to each character pages. It'll be updated as time goes on.

"MePhone4 had died again. But this time, it was much worse than that. When he died, 16 other contestants died afterwards. Which meant that they couldn't be brought back to life. All the other 15 deaths were caused by Yang, after he was once again split apart from Yin. This was only ended by Candle's intervention. But now the still living contestants had found a way to bring MePhone4 back to life. Which required resting him in a lot of dried rice, as he attained water damage from the fall. Next was to replace the screen. And lastly was to perform a factory reset.. which they fortunately didn't have to do.

Because of this, MePhone4 had to find a way to replace all 16 of the dead contestants. By going into the 'real world' using the Replace App. Which, oddly works almost like the Reviving app? He brought over Gumdrop, Switchblade, Quarter, Rugby Ball, Ketchup, Mustard, Soup, Present, Boombox, Medal, Cross, Spork, Gauze, File, Teacup, and Bamboo. Before closing the app, he accidentally tapped Bow's icon instead of the home button, and brought in one final replacement. Bow's replacement: Ribbon. Instead of bringing Ribbon back into her world, everyone decides to keep her there. Might as well! Even if she is 'replacing no one'. Well, she is replacing the original Bow (and not Bot).. but that's besides the point."

[enden-k]

Although I had to max out the fate points on the weapon banner to get the staff of homa, I finally managed to bring home the almighty spork for our dear geo peepaw;w; zhongli once again sucked up all of my primogems, but it’s ok;7; I’m happy that I also managed to snag the aqua simulacra as well!! It looks so nice with Ganyu ❤️ Regardless, ty for wishing me luck Youn!! May you be blessed in future wishing sessions and win your 50/50s 🙏

-snow fox anon

congrats on both weapons !

i hope this blessing will bring me dehya without problems shdksj

[engbergsinfinland]

Hello everyone and happy Saturday!

We had a really nice Saturday. It started with a too-early wake-up (for a weekend, in my opinion), at 7:00, so the kids could get to their ice skating training at 8:15. It was the "far away" rink today (which is actually two rinks, totally underground -- like, a bunker!). But, we got there with plenty of time and they only had a 1-hour session today and it went well.

On the way home, we stopped at the skating shop (also a ballet and gymnastics shop, called Pirouetti) to put in an order for one of the team's skating jackets. I found another one through the WhatsApp group for their skating club; someone was selling one that her child had grown out of.

Once we got home, we had about an hour before we needed to be at a classmate's house, actually two classmates' house: siblings. One is a classmate of Rowan's (Joakim, pronounced sort of like "Yokam") and one who is a classmate of Cece's (Hertta). The kids had been invited the kids over for a hobby-horse race. It turned out that a lot of kids in school have come down with beginning-of-the-school-year cold, so it was just our kids and these two siblings. Eric and I went too, and ended up visiting with the parents the whole time; they were so gracious and wonderful and encouraged us to stay, too. We ended up being there for 4 hours! The parents have lived in the US, in North Carolina, and in China. They returned about 2 years ago. Anyway, the kids did do some hobby-horse jumping in their backyard and then they did other playing in the house -- and candy eating. It seems to be an international phenomenon ;)

After we were at their house, we went to Ikea like to pick up a couple of things: a pan lid, and then (like at Costco, where you just can't seem to leave without many more things than you planned to get) a miscelanous assortment of other items (including a set of four metal sporks for 59 Euro cents).

For, dinner I fed the kids some homemade refried beans and rice, now that I have procured pinto beans from the Mexican grocery in Helsinki! Hallelujah! I also got dried hominy and dried red chiles. There is nary a pinto bean in all of the "Tex Mex" sections of the super-abundant grocery stores in our town or other towns! I have a lot to learn about their impression of what "Tex Mex" cuisine is.

Eric and I went on a walk while with Cece while Rowan read at home. He is trying to finish the Oz series. He's on the last book that we have here, but when Alia comes in about 11 days, she's going to bring the rest of the books, which I'm going to give him for his birthday on September 9th.

There are a few things that Eric and I wanted to be sure we mentioned in this week's post. First, last night we happened upon a television show called Naked Attraction Suomi ("Suomi" is how Finnish people say "Finland," in their language). Apparently, there are other versions in Sweden and Norway. This is the most bizarre television show I've ever seen. It is a dating show with four people standing in obscured boxes where you can see them from the hips down -- and they have no clothes on! The primary contestant and the host are standing facing them, analyzing the naked bodies that they see before them.

The first episode we watched was all in Finnish and had no English subtitles. Eric said, "this is a very weird way to learn Finnish." Haha! Anyway, the bottom line of this show is that, incrementally, the other parts of these naked contestant-bodies are revealed and the main contestant then decides on one person to go on a date with. It is such a weird way to arrange a dating show and I am just not sure whether this would be something that would be viable in the American television marketplace. I can tell you that my inherited Irish Catholic prudishness was very much scandalized by such a television show!

Another thing we wanted to note was that while I was in Helsinki and the kids and Eric were back here, the kids finally got their bikes! They have been thrilled to have them.

As I noted in my last post, I was in Helsinki without the kids and Eric from Tuesday night through Thursday night. The rest of the Fulbright orientation was as exhausting as the first few days, but it was very fulfilling and I am so lucky to have been able to glean all the information from the guest speakers and the Fulbright Finland Foundation staff. We also had many university representatives, government officials, and former Fulbrighters speak to us. The settings for these talks were universities (Hanken School of Business and Aalto University), a very fancy law office (White & Case) that made me say, "wow, we are definite not in a university conference room anymore!," and the national art gallery -- plus other spots. We also had a reception at the US Ambassador's house! It was such an honor to be there, but also exhausting. My face literally hurt after so much looking interested and half-smiling and I was emotionally/mentally taxed afterwards too.

After the orientation wrapped up at Aalto University on Thursday, I went with another Fulbrighter (another Julie! She is at Oulo University this year) to the Mexican grocery, with a few graduate students along for the adventure, and then we also popped into Hakaneimen Market Hall and I went into the Rosebud Bookstore. I have got to get back to Helsinki soon; there are so many places I was hoping to get to this last week while there, but there was absolutely no time.

I will write again on Tuesday -- the day before my teaching starts! I have so much to do before then. Hope everyone is having a great weekend!

[everythingsinred]

rant. please disregard

INDIVIDUAL SERVING TREATS SHOULD NOT TAKE AS LONG TO PREPARE AS A 6-SERVING TREAT.

what do i mean by this? if u are advertising a dessert for one, it should be an easier treat to prepare, otherwise why wouldnt i make a dozen of them? ESPECIALLY if it is advertised as being "in a cup"... which brings me to what im really mad about:

MUG CAKES SHOULD BY DEFINITION ONLY REQUIRE THE MUG. if your recipe asks for a small bowl, you have failed. stop trying to catch on a trend u clearly dont understand! mug cakes started for college students who didnt have full kitchens at home, just a few ingredients and a microwave. the idea was that this recipe was simple and easy, just combine a few things in a mug, mix it with a cafeteria spork, pop it in the microwave for a minute, and done. complicating the mug cake recipes with multiple bowls and--god forbid--OVENS is missing the whole point and misrepresenting the name!

if your dessert recipe calls itself "__ in a cup" or "-- in a mug" then it better BE MADE in a cup or a mug. that better be the premise. bc the recipes didnt get popular bc u made urself a cake that u then served in a mug. who cares what its served in? the point is that its MADE in a cup or a mug!

and oh my god if i have to make and roll out dough for one single serving cinnamon roll, i might as well make a typical half dozen! why the hell would i go through all that trouble for one single cinnamon roll when i live across the street from a cinnabon? if im already gonna spend forty five minutes on a treat i might as well make the whole batch which takes just as long to make (my point is that these recipes shouldnt exist, bc theyre just rerationing of ingredients for a regular recipe and i can do that math on my own without you pretending like youve invented a whole new recipe).

idk i feel like some recipe makers latch onto these treats trends made to appeal to single, busy, or poor people and then complicate them bc they miss the point entirely. the appeal of these treats isnt just that u CAN make a single solitary serving or that a treat CAN be served in a mug. the appeal is that theyre simple and quick to make, easy, and w a small output, using very few ingredients and materials.