#and there's no reason for anyone to remember this fic

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad. but what is the perfect way to leash all your anger out?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing (joel's kind of a perv, ay), dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that?"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car" "Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentslly slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite the beating of your heart. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car, except this time, there's something darker lurking in the corner of his eyes.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop your heart from beating fast.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses; as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gwans your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? If you don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trai. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, entertaining your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. He whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his overstimulated lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth; nothing you couldn't take. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted him to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you likea kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little mix, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that? Fuckin' brat. That imagination of yours is somethin' else, sweetheart. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time? Greedy dirty slut"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits.

He finally pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, pushing above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick, yet the tight outline helps the picture in your head. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch of hair.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk and under your insisting stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts loudly, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in an out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[flusteredfools]

(Summer Daze again- sorry!!!) Was there ever a moment where Sun or Moon genuinely hurt Reader's feelings, or upset them that caused them to back off or avoid the boys for a while? How did Sun and / or Moon react?

First, please don’t be sorry!! I love answering asks and ones for my Fics/Au’s are especially delightful as well as help me flesh more of them out if it’s not something I’ve already focused/touched on so it’s really really nice and helpful!! I’m not sure how close I am to starting the main fic so I’m not too worried about spoiling things that will be in it; though for those who do mind, you might not want to read this if you have good memory and will most likely remember it later in a few months or so XD

(included some rough doodles before I start the next batch of ych prizes XD)

Moon, not so much, but only because conversations were already so few and short between him and the reader; his silence slowly lost its edge as Reader accepted he just is soft spoken and short with his words. So even if/when Moon wanted his silence to bother them, it never hurt too much after the first few times. 

Sun, though, made it crystal clear that he didn’t like Reader from the start, and while not quite bullying (as he would NEVER let that happen to anyone under his watch) he certainly tried his very best to make things as difficult for them as possible. And while it did make them feel sad (after all it's not fun to have your new coworkers not like you) they accepted there had to be a reason for his actions and tried to work through it while hoping the two would eventually come around and the three would be friends one day.

That friendship became a bit of a double edge sword though, as once they started to get closer, Sun had started to lash back out and at that point, Reader couldn’t help but take it personally; friends one day but not the next makes for a confusing struggle. 

The final wound that broke their hope was an overheard argument Sun was having with Buck (The human counselor from Team Fauna), where Sun (who still couldn’t be honest with himself) shared what he claimed were his true feelings before Moon could stop him as Reader turned the corner to where they were standing. 

The immediate hurt that washed over their expression as their eyes filled and overflowed with tears had both bots’ processes stuttering in panic as Reader turned to run away, choosing to hide in the woods to cry their heart out alone. Moon shouted after them but couldn’t get himself to move out of his frozen shock, and Sun was still just as equally frozen; he’s said plenty of borderline mean things but he’s never made you cry before, it was the first time in his whole existence he truly felt such a deep regret over his actions.

Once they manage to get themselves moving, the two try searching for the Reader and despite knowing the trails and forest well enough to map every path without looking, fail to find them. Eventually Reader leaves the woods and quietly stumbles back to the shared cabin at night; only entering once they believed the two bots were charging in their sleep mode to hide under their blankets for some restless sleep. 

The next day both celestials were greeted with short and forced pleasantries and awkward smiles that they knew held no real joy. Moon had attempted to smooth things over, to at least help rebuild the foundation of the shared relationship; but it seemed you had resolved yourself into believing none of it. Even though the ‘truth’ shared was only by Sun; Moon wasn’t spared from the cold distance, excuses Reader would make to stay away and keep themselves busy with tasks that didn’t require either co-counselor. 

Neither liked it, not after knowing how sweet all the shared moments could be. The hurt Moon had felt only worsened and festered, turning into small fights with Sun over the loss of a wonderful friendship, let alone the loss of a budding love neither would now get to experience. It only took one moment to break everything, and now the two will spend every moment trying to fix it. 

[wouldasprenhelp]

Welcome to Would A Spren Help!

The ancient oaths must be spoken again, but it's not just inhabitants of the Cosmere that can bond with a Spren this time! No, in this timeline, the floodgates have been opened! Anyone and everyone is eligible. Tony Stark/Iron Man, Mario "Jumpman" Mario, Izuku Midoriya, Frodo Baggins, even Darth Vader, any character from any piece of media has the opportunity to become a member of the Knights Radiant!

However, the Spren aren't entirely sure about some of these. After all, they barely know these people. So they've come to you all, the fair people of Tumblr, to give them advice on who should be allowed to join!

On this blog, you will see a series of polls! Each will have a character's name and franchise. The four options that you will have available will be as follows!

The Nahel Bond Would Help Them

These are the people whose lives would be genuinely improved by bonding with a Spren of some Order. Your reasons for saying this can be as varied as you want. Would the person be able to work through things they have a hard or impossible time working through in canon? Great! Would they just like the company? Awesome! Do you just want to see them fly? Heck yeah! If the character ends with this, the Spren Will Bond with the character! More on that in a moment!

The Nahel Bond Wouldn't Affect Them

These characters would be fundamentally unchanged if they had a Spren. Whether this is because they don't really have a need for a therapy fairy, or they're able to work through their issues just fine without them, you're the judge. If the character ends with this, the Spren Will Not Bond With The Character. No need to bond with someone who doesn't need you.

The Nahel Bond Would Make Them Worse (Positive)

These characters are the ones that, for some reason or another, you think would be chaos incarnate as a Radiant, but it would be funny. Maybe they'd be an absolute menace with Surges, maybe they'd corrupt their Spren irreversibly by being an absolute gremlin, who knows? This one was very divisive among the Spren, the Highspren, Honorspren, and Peakspren were very against accepting these people, but the Cryptics managed to convince the entire council that they should accept these. The Spren Will Bond With These Characters! Even if it's reluctantly on some of them!

The Nahel Bond Would Make Them Worse (Negative)

These characters should not be given a Spren under any circumstances. Whether this is because they would use the power for malevolent means, would only be broken by any attempt to help them through their traumas, or some other reason, The Spren Will Not Bond With These Characters.

For the sake of this poll, we are assuming that every character would be able to speak the Words and at least become a Radiant of roughly 2nd or 3rd Ideal. If they're the kind who would excel as that Order, that's up to you to decide in whatever means you have (No but seriously if you do fanart or write a fic about the resulting character as a Radiant you have my full permission to @ this blog and I'll reblog it).

If A Character Manages To Be Accepted

If a character is accepted, a follow up poll will be held for the same amount of time as the original poll. This will have all orders available, listed in order of Stormlight Archive book. That means the order will be as follows. If you're new to the Cosmere, these have their main Ideals listed as well.

Windrunner - I Will Protect Lightweaver - I Will Speak My Truth Bondsmith - I Will Unite Willshaper - I Will Seek Freedom Skybreaker - I Will Seek Justice Edgedancer - I Will Remember Truthwatcher - I Will Seek Truth Dustbringer - I Will Seek Self-Mastery Stoneward - I Will Be There When I'm Needed Elsecaller - I Will Reach My Potential

This will be recorded on the spreadsheet for this blog, if you want to search for a specific character later.

SUBMISSIONS

Submissions will be entered through THIS GOOGLE FORM

There are a few rules, though!

NO RADIANTS These guys already have a Spren. They aren't getting another. Submissions for characters with Spren will be discarded.

NO REAL LIFE PEOPLE We are not here to analyze the mental state of Benedict Cumberbatch. If you want to submit BBC Sherlock, that's fine, but real people are off the table.

ONE SUBMISSION PER RESPONSE You're allowed to make multiple responses, but if your response has more than one character, even if they're characters from a group, it will be deleted. If you want to find out if the Wiggles could be Radiants, you need to submit each individual Wiggle.

BE CIVIL Or at the very least be rowdy in a positive way. I don't want to see anyone yelling at other people for voting a certain way.

Outside of that, it's fair game! This blog will post two polls a week, one on Mondays and one on Thursdays, both at Noon EST (5 PM GMT)! Life Before Death, people of Tumblr!

[hermiones-amortentia]

Its my biggest dream that someone would write the books solely from Hermione's pov and I know someone on AO3 doing it. They posted on reddit. They are done until book 5 or 4 I guess. I even tried to read them. But.... I just can't because of one reason.

I. Can't. Stand. Mione. I can't stand any fic where Hermione is called 'Mione' it's dumb, repulsive, illogical and completely out of character. Ron would NEVER and I repeat NEVER call her 'Mione'. And she would never call him 'Ronald'. Urgh. Whenever I see 'Mione' and 'Ronald' I quit reading the fics.

Once or twice she is calling him Ronald is fine. She did once in DH. esp when she is angry. But using his full name even in normal conversation is out of character.

I don't want to bash anyone who uses these two names in their fics. I am saying how I personally feel. I hate Mione and Ronald.

I remember reading a fanfic where Hermione was extremely angry because Ron called her 'Mione'.. though that was just p*rn but still in character lol

[shinakazami1]

Rhysothy Week 2025, Day 2: Second chance

"What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do." "I thought it was self explanatory, Mr. Lawrence." It was hard to act this way. Especially towards a man who could kill him with a gun he made for him. Rather a stupid mistake on Rhys part. But - it was all a part of a bigger plan. And he thought Timothy understood it. Seeing how the man yanked his favourite suit he still somehow fit in after all these years. Good thing he ate the frogurts instead of ice cream! But - none of the frogo magic would have helped the metalic hand he, once again, gifted to the man before him. "Rhys. I am a patient man - trust me. I worked my ass off for nearly a decade for a psycho. I've done stunts no man should ever think of. I cut my own hand off for a good reason." "I also cut my arm off, Timothy." Rhys felt the shivers on his spine as the hold on his black shirt became tighter. Deep breaths. Deep, long breaths. Shallow, so the enemy won't notice the shakiness of his exhale. "Then look at me. I didn't want to lose all I've got, to have to redo it all again. I might want my life back. I want to see my ma again. So why. What the fuck did you shoot us with!" The piercing, drilling stare of the heterochdomic eyes was too strong for Rhys. He felt he would regret it in a moment but, he couldn't keep the eyecontact anymore. He felt like a rooky again. Rhys worked his ass off for so many years and he would not let it go to waste. "This is a second chance. And if you decide to be ungrateful... Remember who gave you that hand, kiddo."

I got a silly plot idea for this plot :^] maybe i should use this for a fic or just explain if anyone would be into it jdhssh

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sentences For WIPs Game

I was tagged by @ulchabhangorm (thanks lovely! 🩷) to participate in this little game where the idea is to make a 24-hour poll including every WIP you want to work on, and have people vote for one of those WIPs. Then once voting has concluded, you write one sentence for every vote of the WIP that received the most votes.

Thing is: I have so many WIPs that I hope to write within the year (if I can!!) that I'm going to offer as many as the poll will allow, AND, I'll "cheat" a tiny bit and write a sentence for ALL of the WIPs that get a vote. ;)

No Pressure Tags: @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @returnofthepineapple @dragonrider9905 + @lonewolflupe @the-bad-batch-baroness @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @eternal-transcience

I'll put what's cooking under the cut so anyone who's interested can get a taste of what's to come, only if you're so inclined~ Those marked as request fics will have the details purposely sparse or vague to keep a bit of the surprise alive.

Lost on Life Day: *Request fic. Combination of bad weather and a "small" natural disaster leads to a bit of Huddling Together For Survival between a certain cobalt blue captain and the trusted friend he's harboring feelings for. Because he's put her in danger, Rex thinks it might be best to let a certain loth-cat out of the bag... (Oh, and he should probably mention that it happens to be Life Day, too.)

Cyber Crush: *Request fic. While doing a bit of the ol' “slightly questionable research”, Wrecker and the reader “meet” each other over the galaxy-wide-web, where Wrecker answers a few… concerning questions. Worried he’s accidentally helped a Seppie, he asks Tech to run a thorough background check and finds out that the reader isn’t a Seppie at all. She’s just a writer!

Stuck in the Stacks: *Request fic. Modern AU, where the reader and Wolffe live in the same, small mountain town that is no stranger to the odd bout of bad weather. They've been passively flirting for so long, but never seem to make much progress... When a truly bad storm rolls in the first time Wolffe comes to pay her a visit at her job—hoping to check out a few books for a "little project" he's working on [C'mon, it's Carol's request fic, of course I'll give this reader a fitting job!]—it forces them to stay after-hours. Alone. ;)

No Foxes In This Hole: Longform story I started 10/10 of last year, series link here. Reader's new to Coruscant after seeking a big life change, and boy is she gonna find one. The crimson commander will too, for that matter!

Seaglass in the Surf: Hiding out on a remote, backwater planet, Din Djarin makes the acquaintance of a woman who frequently makes trips to the shoreline just to scour through the sand for something. He offers to help, thinking she's looking for something she lost. Turns out she's looking for things that others have lost, for a rather different reason than the one Din initially suspects.

Your Body Remembers: Experimental fic without a single line of dialogue where you as a local living in hardship on an Imperial-controlled planet find a little more than just hope in the man who, at first, will tell you nothing more than he's a Mandalorian is the only person who has answered your desperate plea for help.

Yellow Blankets, Yellow Blades: Reader makes their favorite Jedi fugitive something rather special to keep in the room he's always been offered whenever he needs a place to lay low from the Empire. While the item brings up many memories that are perhaps a little too bittersweet, Cal, who hasn't seen a lot of genuine kindness like yours since the start of the Purge, can't believe how lucky he is that you went through all that trouble, just for him.

Like Family: Star Wars AU. Feral asked you a very important question recently, and he's been riding on Cloud 9 ever since! Trouble is... he's having difficulties finding the right time to tell his brothers the happy news. The way you and him go about letting the loth-cat out of the bag together isn't exactly what you had planned, but hey; you're still warmly welcomed once they know you're officially going to be part of the family!

Hunting the Nexu: An absolute mess in the outline stages right now, HtN is a TBB AU that covers events from both season 2 and 3 between Crosshair and a mysterious hired gun that agreed to help his brothers and sister with rescuing him from Mount Tantiss and the Empire.

Glory In Gold: Hired to teach Cody Mando'a under false pretenses for an Imperial mission, it isn't long before it's revealed to you the real reason you're here once, sometimes twice a week, on the Empire's dime, is personal. But it's not long after that that the reason changes again. To something more... intimate.

Loving A Lazarus Species: You've been mourning Tech's death for close to a year. Maybe more. The denial that this death is real runs deep; chasing down the ghosts of ghosts when it comes to rumors your love still lives. Lucky for you, the brown-eyed, bespectacled man proves you have no need for the morally murky research you've turned to in your desperation: proving he's harder to kill than initially believed... [We're doing a Tech Lives AU!!]

Dressed to the Ninety-Nines: You and the bandana-wearing sergeant have to feign being on a date for a "special assignment". Hunter effectively proves that he sure cleans up well and behaves like a perfect gentlemen, the whole nine. But is there really a "special assignment", or is this all part of some elaborate bet?

[overlordraax]

I chose the cartoon Galvatron as my example cos it feels to me he's the version that the fandom remembers and judges him by. Like, yes, the Marvel version is way superior but that's not the version anyone talks about or tends to appear in fic.

And it's from the G1 version we get all these jokes about him being crazy and a violent asshole who has no idea what he's doing and hits people for no reason. And like the previous person stated, characters like Starscream and Megatron have gone on to have more indepth and nuanced portrayals, but Galvatron has never really had that. Certainly nothing that has overridden that original fandom impression of him. Even those more bland Decepticons from G1 mentioned have been given that over the years and are much more beloved.

My ultimate complaint isn't even about how he's portrayed in the canon. My concern was more about how the fandom reacts to him. I've seen blogs openly talk about how they hate him, and then fics which only portray him as a one note abusive crazy person. And considering other characters have gotten better portrayals over the years and Galvatron never has that's the image that sticks in the fandoms mind, and I wish it could be a little different.

Being a Galvatron fan is weird, cos like, there's a lot of potential hidden in his character and you want to see him as a really cool villain, but in the original G1 show all he ever does is get angry and hit people. So then when you go to read fics and all everyone ever writes him as is an angry guy that hits people and you're like "I know you're being accurate to the source material but Hey!"

[aitadjcrazytimes]

[kettlefire]

A Panic in Time (DP x DC)

This is all thanks to the awesome @tkiesai for basically being the foundation of this idea! This is probably going to be long, and probably won't delve that deep into my ideas about this idea. Largely so it's not insanely long. But here I go!

°•°•°•°

Bruce's head felt like it had been shoved through a straw and spit out on the other side. The throbbing was annoying, but it wasn't anything the man couldn't handle.

His mind was muddled, memories of what happened prior to him awaking was blurry and unsure. Bruce knew it wasn't something good.

He vaguely remembered a league meeting, a threat, something looming. It wasn't world ending, or at least that's what Bruce remembered. It should have been something they could handle.

But now, here was Bruce. Waking up in the grass of some random park. He was dressed in casual attire, something he'd wear in public as Bruce. Although last he remembered he was in the Batsuit.

The sun felt too bright in the sky. The sound of families filled the air and children's laughter. No one seemed to blink twice at Bruce as he pulled himself together.

It took a moment to steel himself, to gain composer again. It took a few sweet lines, and a charming smile for a nice mother to slide him a few painkillers. The lies rolling off his tongue like second nature.

To his luck there was a newspaper at the top of the trashcan. He was in some town called Amity Park, and the year... the year was the problem.

It was 1996. Whatever had happened had sent Bruce back in time. There was a few suspects Bruce can think were the cause of this. But something in his gut kept drawing his train of thought to the Flash.

It seemed like each time the League had any time related problems, Barry was in the center of it. Which also leaves Bruce with the question if he was the only one sent back in time.

God, he could only imagine the nightmare if the others were sent back in time. Yes, they can be professional. They understand the risk of changing things in the past.

But Bruce also understands that his team can be less than... intelligent at times.

Despite that, Bruce needed to find a way to get back to Gotham. He might not know for sure where everyone was right now, but he knew Alfred was the safest bet.

A plan laid out in Bruce's mind, a list of people he knew wouldn't be a risk to approach. He just needed to find a way to get to them. He had barely made it to the gates of the park before a shrill cry pierced the air.

There was just one loud outcry, before it quieted down. Bruce glance around the space, spotting a young boy curled on the ground. Tears streamed down the boy's chubby cheeks.

And no one even moved to the boy's aid. Not a single mother spared more than one glance in the kid's directions. No parents came rushing over to the boy's side.

Bruce almost walked away, he really did. This wasn't his time, anything he does can cause immense damage to the timeline. But when Bruce caught sight of blood bubbling from a scrape on the boy's knee, Bruce couldn't ignore him.

Maybe it's just the father in him, but Bruce barely even notices when he's crossing the small distance. His mind zeroing in on a hurt child that needed help. Kneeling before the small boy with a gentle smile, and pulling his handkerchief free from his pocket.

"You're alright there, buddy. It looks like you took a bit of a tumble there." Bruce slipped into the same tone he used to use when his kids were young. Gentle and understanding, as he pressed the handkerchief to the small scrape.

The boy sniffled, tears slipping from his eyes. Bruce was more focused on the way the kid was looking at him. Like he couldn't fathom someone coming to his aid.

That look had Bruce's heart breaking slightly. He's seen a similar look before. The few times he's come to the aid of a hurt child that wasn't used to getting help.

Something no child should ever feel or experience.

"Where's your parents, kiddo?" Bruce asked after a moment of silence from the boy. He had waited until the kid's breathing settled down when the boy's chest stopped pumping so quickly.

Except his question only seemed to bring a new wave of tears to the boy's eyes. The small child just seemed to curl into himself further, ducking his gaze away from Bruce.

And as much as Bruce didn't want it to be true, it was clear the kid didn't have the support he needed. It might not as be as far as some of Bruce's kids have had in the past.

But it was clearly not good.

"That's okay, it's alright. What's your name?" Bruce tried again. The boy's silence was leaving an uncomfortable pit in Bruce's stomach.

"D-Danny..." The boy spoke out his name between sniffles, and Bruce felt a wave of relief hearing the boy speak.

In hindsight, Bruce can see how strange the scene might look. A slightly disheveled man comforting a lone young boy in a park. It wasn't exactly perfect.

But with the lack of reactions from the parents around, Bruce had a feeling the town had an idea who this boy was. The whole situation just didn't feel that right for him.

It took a few more comments before Bruce managed to get the boy to crack a smile. A laugh had felt like breaking a massive wall.

Before long, Bruce had Danny actually like any other boy he's known. Carefree and happy, just like a child should be.

"You didn't tell me your name, mister." Danny had suddenly cut down the relaxed moment they were in. A pout laced the boy's lips as he looked up at Bruce, almost accusatory.

"I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne." Bruce responded without missing a beat. He knew this might cause problems in the future. He wasn't supposed to be here.

But when his gut is telling him something, he can't just ignore it. He checked his pockets, finding no business cards anywhere. So, Bruce fell back in plan B.

"No matter how long it's been from now, you can come to me for help. Just look for Bruce Wayne in Gotham City, and when you find me... just say Fairbanks sent you."

Bruce wasn't sure if he'll ever see Danny again when he goes back to his own time. Wasn't even sure if this was the same universe as his own. But he couldn't walk away without at least offering the boy help in some way.

When Danny's eyes filled up with tears again, Bruce thought he said something wrong at first. That was until the boy was suddenly clinging to his shoulders in a tight embrace, muttering 'thank you' over and over again.

Bruce felt himself almost close to tears just from that alone. His heart was aching for the small boy. Even if Bruce couldn't help Danny anymore than this, he was hoping the boy would have a better life.

One where he wasn't clinging to a stranger for comfort that family should be providing him.

THWAMP

It didn't hurt, but it did cut their hug short as Bruce suddenly pulled away. Turning his head to see a young girl wielding a wiffle bat, and another young boy standing behind her.

Her purple eyes glared at Bruce like he had done the worst thing in the world. Her grip on the bat was threatening and ready to swing again. Her knuckles white from the tight grip alone.

Maybe leaving this time era might not be as easy as Bruce thought as the young girl probbed him with angry and scolding questions. Not that Bruce could blame her.

He just hoped this hiccup didn't get back to the league. They'd have a field day hearing about how Batman got scolded by a child with a wiffle bat.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Danny wasn't sure if this was the best idea. It's been years since he met Bruce Wayne. So many years. Danny had just been a kid, not even ten, when Bruce had introduced himself.

When he had an adult, actually check in on him. Yet, it was a memory Danny couldn't forget. Maybe it was just the kindness that Bruce radiated.

Or maybe it was when Sam came to his "rescue" near the end. Regardless, it was cemented in his mind. A core memory that Danny cared with him through the years.

Now, here he was, roughly seven years later. Standing in front of a manor that put even Sam's place to shame.

It took a lot of courage for Danny to knock. Barely a second later, an old man answered the door, an accent Danny was certain Bruce hadn't had.

A stuttered explaination of being here to see Bruce Wayne, that the man knew him, barely left Danny's mouth before the old man ushered him inside.

The man, Alfred, told Danny to wait by the door before vanishing further into the manor. It took a lot for Danny to not just vanish.

Being half ghost nowadays had its quirks, Danny could just vanish, and no one but Alfred would know. But he couldn't.

It had taken a lot for Danny to make the journey to Gotham City. He hadn't even thought to look up a current picture of Bruce either. Which was probably a big mistake on his end.

Danny didn't even know if Bruce was offering this kind of help. But Danny didn't have many allies to turn to. He needed help.

Not just for himself but for his family. For Amity Park. He couldn't be afforded the ability to run away. Not now.

Danny felt all the air leave his lungs when Bruce entered the area. The man didn't look a day older than what Danny remembered. Bruce looked a bit more put together, not like he had just jumped out of a moving car, but it was Bruce.

"Uhm... I don't know if you remember me. But my name's Danny... we met when I was a kid." Danny started trying to explain himself before Bruce could speak. He recognized that confused look anywhere, and Danny didn't have the guts to go through with this if Bruce asked any questions.

"You told me if I ever needed help, to come find you. Bruce Wayne in Gotham City... you, uh, told me to tell you Fairbanks sent me?"

That came out more like a question than Danny would have liked. But it did ease his nerves a bit as he watched Bruce's slightly confused expression turn to alarm and surprise.

Danny wasn't sure what this would do. If Bruce could truly help him. But he was out of options. Just seeing Bruce recognize something he said was enough to calm the teen's anxiety slightly.

"I'm sorry, Danny... I don't remember you. But I believe you and I want to help you. Come inside, have a seat, and tell me what's going on."

That response was enough to have Danny's eyes fill with tears. His chest filling with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in weeks now.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

[luna-loveboop]

I love Legend sick fics because they all boil down to: "no amount of emotional stress will make him crack so let's give him a fever and see how that works"

[chaosandwolves]

Hello lovelies

I was lucky enough to snatch a commission from @bucksketch

This is something that has been on my mind for so long and I could finally ask one of my fav artists to bring this to life

Everyone,

The Stucky Buddie AU

There is no fic (yet)

But I think they fit them so well

Buck with his trying to save everyone, trying to always do the right thing, burning down the world for his loved ones

Eddie with all the trauma that hardened him on the outside at first glance but he'll do everything for the ones he loves

Buck with the whole transformation he goes through while the core of his heart never changes

Eddie with all that grief but slowly making his way through healing

The friends to lovers

The always having each other's backs

The saving each other

Yeah I love them all

[triglycercule]

can the mtt commit more crimes that just murder please i know theyre the MURDER time trio but ppppleasse,,,, please,,,,,,

they'd be terrible to be next to on the highway. horror's going 160 mph amd has long past gone over the speed limit. dust's out for BLOOD and by blood i mean your tires. he's somehow sniping those round rubber wheels from the high moving vehicle with the precision of a master fruit ninja player. if your car explodes or flips over in the process that's not his fault. and then to make matters worse for everyone on the highway killer's in the backseat scratching up the doors and windows of your car with a knife everytime horror gets close to another car and oops he accidentally just disfigured your face also did i mention theyre all drunk during this

ok so theyve all got the classic face WHY DONT THEY ABUSE IT!!!! horror gets to do a little paper mache to cover up his head hole and then wearing glasses. killer i dont know what the FUCK he can do to get rid of his perpetual tears but let's just pretend that theyre conveniently gone for now. and then all dust has to do is put down his hood! anyways identity theft is cool. imagine how much they could totally fuck up classic's reputation with this. set up fake tinder profiles and then scam people for their credit card info/free dates (while ordering every expensive thing) and stealing wallets. walking into various grillby's's around the multiverse and telling terrible jokes. like ACTUALLY bad jokes. and then of course just being a huge piece of shit at the bar. god theres so many things they could do pretending to be classic. which one of us is hikaru looking ahh except the only difference between the three is the color of the stains on their clothes (either gray (dust) black (killer) or red. well faded red (horror))

ROBBERY!!!! ROBBERIES PLURAL!!!??? train robbery gas station robbery bank robbery GOVERNMENT robbery (what would you rob the government for?? documents??? idk) anyways. mtt robbing a train except its just a really shitty plan and they dont know jackshit about what theyre doing. killer's taken over the conductor's cabin and now he is booking it. how fast are trains allowed to go idk but the maximum. anyways meanwhile horror's on the tracks fucking up the rails with his strength or whatever (listen i know he's weak but picking and choosing what hcs i believe in is my art) and dust is there to teleport him away before the train crashes into him and turns him into a trolley problem victim. and then of course that shit doesnt fucking work and the train just ends up flipping over and catching on fire or something (killer survives because of course he does he's killer). and then in the end dust just has to flip the entire train over and they just stroll into the part that actually HAS the money

and then they go out and get ice cream. sometimes the murderers need to take a break from murdering and just do NORMAL crime yk???

[bagheerita]

So I read A Stitch in Time and one result of that which I was certainly not expecting was that I feel so much sympathy for Enabran Tain. Garak's life is a tragedy, but Tain's is a fucking black comedy.

I mean, he's a terrible person and an absolute shitbag, but can you imagine? You have this kid. You go to all the trouble of arranging for him to be raised in a family situation where he won't be rejected from society for being your bastard. You get him into the nicest indoctrination school where he can hobnob with plenty of uppercrust kids. You get him a job in your Order and all the proper training. And he's actually, like, really good at it. But he has this fatal flaw of being completely incapable of not making stupid, short-sighted, emotional decisions.

A scene I imagine has to have happened just prior to Garak and Tain's confrontation at the end of part II:

Like goddamn. When Tain asked "what's your plan for getting rid of her husband?" and Garak's just like "plan what plan." Dude. I'M disappointed, I can only imagine the guy who's job it is to know and plan for everything isn't at least as disappointed.

I know he didn't actually, but do you think there was ever a time when Tain wanted to be like, You know what. Just go back to Tolan and become a gardener. Join that illegal hippie cult. It's fine.

[pokemon-radical-red]

I hate it when I headcanon a character who’s canonically a girl as a trans man and make ships of him and a character who’s canonically a guy and I refer to it as a gay/mlm/guyxguy/whatever ship and someone gets mad. Like omg let trans people have FUNNNNN. Why are queer headcanons and genderbends cool until they’re saying that the character is trans???

“OMGGG you’re so misogynistic I can’t believe you would erase FEMALE representation!!!”

and like half of the characters in the franchise are women, and a total of… NONE of the characters are trans men. Also, my headcanon doesn’t change the source material. If my stuff upsets you, you can block me and go engage with the source or maybe every single other fanwork, since mine is the only trans man hc for this character that I’ve ever seen.

or when people are like “WTF??? this is so transphobic!!! how dare you imply that a character who looks like that could be a trans man?!?! do you think that trans men are women or something??? she uses she/her, and you’re misgendering her!”

No, I don’t think that being a trans man makes you a woman or vice versa. That’s why it’s a headcanon, and the headcanon is that this character is actually a trans man and not a woman at all! You’ll never guess what pronouns most trans men had to use at some point in their lives, and you really won’t like it when you find out about pre-(or no-)transition trans men… or trans men who are in the closet… or trans men who don’t know that they’re trans yet.

“But the character is a kid!!! Saying they’re trans is sexualizing them.”

I’ve seen this one from other queer people. Like did you miss when all of the homophobes said this about your identity, or do you think that bigotry is only bad when it’s directed at you?

“Why would you say ‘testosterone could fix her’??? Are you trying to call her a delusional woman?”

Why would your brain even go to that first? This literally has to be a bad faith reading, because there’s no way that someone could see what I said and get this unless they were specifically looking for something to be mad at me for.

(Note for anyone unaware: “Estrogen would’ve fixed him!” was a meme going around at the time I said this. I’m not sure if it’s still super big, but this was a joke to the effect of that.)

“So girls can’t be tomboys anymore? You just wanna trans everyone?”

This is like actual real life transphobic rhetoric. This isn’t even just shitting on my headcanon, but in fact, sending transphobic hate to a trans man. Thanks 👍. Maybe you should go send JK Rowling another message about how much you loved her essay instead of bothering me.

[tojiscrack]

how i feel knowing that when your ‘liar, liar’ fic gets big (and it WILL), i’ll get to say that i was one of your og readers, laughing as the new readers (peasants) wish they were here during the chaos - when people were shipping malakai with EVERY CHARACTER EVER or when people were making predictions about future chapters or everyone collectively losing their minds over the angst tag etc etc:

we’re going to look back at this time and feel nostalgic when the fic’s over. i need megumi and y/n together RIGHT NOW but i know that when that happens, their story will be over ☹️

liar, liar masterlist here:

AHHH NOT THE TIKTOK PROUD EMOJI LMAOOO 😭 fun fact: it’s my fav emoji in the world and if apple doesn’t find a way to let me use it outside of tiktok, i’m gonna combust on the spot 😀

‘and it WILL’ — your confidence is what i’m gonna hide behind, ty 🌝

DON’T CALL THEM PEASANTS OMG??? 😭 THEY’RE NOT EVEN HERE YET 🫨 i’m trying so hard not to laugh rn 😟

it’s already been, what, a couple of months since the first ever malakai x y/n ship started by that anon who, like, never returned after causing all that chaos? 🫢 so it’s already becoming an old thing the ogs would know about, and don’t even get me started on the panic the angst tag has everyone in LMFAOO, my fault, honestly, but idc i like it 😋

and girl, we have a LONGGG way to go before mercupine’s story is at a close. we’ll worry about that when we get there, i’m just glad the small family we’ve got are still here after nearly an entire year with such slow updates (i’m sorry 😭) <3

and ofc, i’m well aware that you are one of the og’s, sending a cute (albeit weirdly confident/funny) message about it was not necessary ‘cause ANY time i see ur user in my notifs, i remember that you were the first ever reader of SOANO (which i’ve yet to update but i’m working on it if you’re still interested 😔). your support has meant, and still means, the world to me. idk how to speak in such a sappy way, i’ll pocket that for when i’m done writing liar liar 😤💘

[jadecantcreate]

am i the only person who tends to think of pain in pitch?

as in, pain can be “high pitch” or “low pitch” — if its sharp, like a paper cut or heartburn or aching, its high pitch; if its like a stubbed toe or sore muscles or a headache, its low pitch

high pitch pain is when you hiss, low pitch pain is when you groan, etc etc

i dont know if this makes sense to anyone else?????

(because everytime im writing fanfiction i have to hold myself back from describing it that way — and im not even sure i could fully, effectively communicate that w/o breaking immersion — but me saying “sharp pain” has become. a problem. probably. i really need alternatives)