#anymore just wanted to rant a lil

[arinmoss]

women and femmes is like. what the fuck r u talking about lol.

like ppl will be talking about shit that effects me but postulate it as something that effects only women and femmes, two things i am not lolol

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[pollyna]

I just hope this fucking month will be done soon because I can't anymore with it. It felt like fifteen months long instead of the normal 31 days long.

[aria0fgold]

I got waaaay too attached to my farmer in Stardew Valley that I can't play a new save without them and I also didn't want to just create the same character (It'll confuse me...) but I really wanna try out the meadowlands farm. So instead, I decided to create a storyline in which my dear farmer dies, reincarnates, and proceeds to dye and style their hair in the same way it was in the past life.

[todayisafridaynight]

grabbing the ichi plush by the neck and death gripping it like 'good things are to come its all going to be ok good things are to come' like its a lucky amulet

[piercethewon]

.

[hsjxishbeoelwj]

tw: vent post, long long rant/vent post lmao sorry :3 im going through it fr fr!!!! 😜 (this is kinda cringe ngl, lol)

god, please let my sister still feel safe and comfortable around me even when I don't deserve it. She deserves so much more than me and my shit attitude and behavior towards her. She deserves to be loved and get out of this house because she's just a kid, my baby, though she doesn't deserve this life we've built for her. She deserves people who won't yell or snap at her for being a kid. I hope she never fears me. I hope she never feels her stomach churn because of the sound of my voice, and I hope she never knows me by the sound of my footsteps. Because, lord knows she deserves so, so much more. She deserves to feel safe in her own room with out me saying to get out (we share a room). And yet, I still can't help but feel that selfishness that screams at me from the darkest parts of my mind, the ones that scream "kick her out before she ruins the delicate system you have built in this room, she doesn't deserve to be here." And yet, I so desperately want to listen to the much, much smaller voice that says "this is her room to, she deserves to feel safe in here to without feeling like shes walking on eggshells. You swore to yourself that you'd never make her feel the way you did when you were her age. But look at you now. Horrible and basically as bad as you feared you'd be." I hate it. I miss knowing my little sister more than I knew myself. She just wants her big sisters attention. She just wanted my love and validation. I see the way she looks at me when she thinks I'm not looking. I hate it. I hate that she looks at me like I'm not the big sister she wants. I miss when she used to look at me with stars in her eyes and awe in her voice as she screamed my nickname so happily, the nickname only she's allowed to call me. It feels weird when she calls me by my actual name, even when it's not that different. Where was I going with this? I don't know. I just miss my baby sister, my baby. My dear sister. And maybe that's my fault. Scratch that. It most definitely is my fault. I pushed her away because I was scared of hurting her, but I hurt her anyway. It's hard not to when you both have shared a room since she was a baby. I've never had my own space. Maybe that's why I do this. Out of my own selfish desire for privacy. She doesn't deserve this. If only she were born earlier. If only she were closer in age. But, would that have changed things? I don't know. I wish I did. God, or whoevers listening, please, oh please, let there be a universe where I can live my baby sister like she needs me too. Where I'm actually a good sister. Where she doesn't fear my mood swings like they're a knife I'm about to stab her with. Where she never finches away from me in fear of what will happen. Where she never gets that long, sad stare when she thinks we aren't looking. Where I can protect her from all the bad, instead of being the bad she needs shelter from. Please, whoever is listening to this. Please, let there be a universe where I'm not a fucked up little kid who will never know whats wrong with me. I just want to know what's wrong with me. Maybe then I'll stop snapping and hurting the ones I love. I don't want to be my grandma. I don't want to be someone who snaps at the smallest things because they aren't how she left them. I don't want to make my loved ones sick of me because of how I am. I don't want to be someone who is feared by my siblings. I don't want my little baby sister (who is taller than me now? when did that happen?) to flea to her room so her big sister to be better just for her to realize I'm the one she's hiding from. I don't want her to feel like she'll never feel safe around me again. Please, lord, don't let me become like my grandma, who makes everyone drained when she starts talking. Instead, lord, let me be like my mother, the kind soul she is, and let me be an open space where I can't help but spill my guts too.

Please let me be a good sister.

Please don't let me become my grandmother and hers before her.

Please, let me be like my mother.

Pleaee let me baby sister feel like she is not wanted because if my stupid mistakes.

Please let her not take to heart what I said when I was angry and had no control over my words and emotions.

Please let her know that she will always have a place in my heart no matter what.

Please let her know that no matter what I say, her big sister will always love her, even if she doesn't love me.

Please let her know it's never going to be her fault for being and acting like a child, for wanting her big sisters approval.

Please let her know I will never, ever truly hate her (I genuinely don't think I can).

Please, lord above, tell me what's wrong with me so I can fix it and be a better sister to my older and younger siblings. If not, then, please, strike me down and send me to hell.

I can not handle hurting them again. I think it will kill me. I can not handle seeing my family cry because of my stupid, reckless, impulsive actions. I can't do this anymore.

Please let my family know that if I do eventually die by my own hand, it was never their fault. It was mine for being so weak.

Please let my sister know that she will never be at fault for what her big sister did.

Please let my baby, my little sister know that her big sister has always been proud of her.

Please, God, tell me what is wrong with me so that I may fix it.

(perhaps i wasn't cut out to be a sibling..?)

[doodlboy]

Need 2 work on getting that therapist

[jerriisspeakingnow]

Ever hear a laugh so scrumptious your brain short circuits ERROR 404 malfunction ??

…yeah no I have no idea what you’re talking about.

[strangersteddierthings]

Here's a lil idea that I simply do not have the time to make a full fic of, but I gotta get it out or it won't leave me alone.

Steve thinks he's in a happy, fulfilling relationship with Eddie, while Eddie's insecurities have him believing he's just a place holder for the future Mrs. Harrington.

It comes to light when Steve does something cheesy and romantic and Eddie, not able to handle it because it's too romantic, tries to joke about it like "why would you bother to put all this effort in just for me?"

And Steve like "what do you mean? You're my boyfriend and I wanted to"

And then Eddie like "yeah, no, I know that. I just don't understand why." And then he goes on a little self-deprecating rant, explaining all the ways he's not good enough for Steve, all while Steve just stares at him, brow furrowing more and more as Eddie speaks.

When Eddie finally runs out of words, Steve says, "I don't understand? What have I done to make you think this?"

And Eddie kinda blue screens. Because Steve hasn't done anything to make Eddie think this; he's been a perfect boyfriend. It's just... it's inevitable, isn't it? That Steve'll move onto to bigger, better things? Eddie says as much.

"Why?"

"Because it's- because you're Steve Harrington!"

Since Steve's brow can't possibly furrow anymore, he starts to frown now. "I still don't understand?? Why did- do you think I'm just going to be going through the checkout at Melvald's and just decide I want to marry some random woman instead of being with you?"

"What? No. It's not- I don't think you'll intentionally decide you want someone else more just randomly but, like..."

"There's no 'but' here, Eds. I asked you out because I want to be with you. You said yes because, I assume, you want to be with me, too! Was I wrong to assume-"

"NO! No! I do want to be with you!"

"Then.... you think I don't want to be with you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sorry, it felt like you were implying it. So. If I haven't done anything to make you think I don't want to be with you, and you just said you want to be with me, then what... I don't understand where these thoughts have come from. Have you- were you just going to go through our whole relationship waiting for something bad to happen?"

And Eddie can just look down and shrug because, well, yeah. He had been thinking that. He has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And now they're having this conversation and he's ruined Steve's sweet, romantic gesture with his own bullshit. So, even if the shoe wasn't going to drop before, it will now, because he's gone and fucked it up by putting his insecurities onto Steve and-

"What can I do to help you believe I'm in it, for as long as you want me?"

Eddie looks back to Steve then, because that's not what he expected to hear. "What?"

Steve steps closer, the furrowed brow and the frown gone, replacing it instead is the sappy look he catches on Steve's face every now and then, when Eddie's doing something particularly Eddie-ish. "Tell me what I can do to help you believe in this. In us. And I'll do it. Every day until we die."

"Steve," Eddie warbles out, surprised by his own watery voice. "I-I'm sorry. I-"

"Hush," Steve says, gentle and sure as he takes Eddie's face in his hands. "No apologies. I get it, so you don't have to apologize. Just. Talk to me, okay? Because I'm not holding out for something better. Not when you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Besides Robin."

"Besides Robin," Eddie agrees, nodding his head as much as he can in Steve's grasp. "But, uh, things like this. This helps." He gestures at the romantic candle-lite dinner slowly getting cold. There are flowers in a vase, and a cheesy little Garfield plushie sitting on the table, leaned against Eddie's wine glass. It's a Tuesday night in June and nowhere near a birthday, or holiday, or anniversary. Steve's just made him a sweet, romantic dinner just because.

"Oh good. You have no idea how much I'm restraining myself by not doing this weekly," Steve whispers before placing a kiss to Eddie's forehead, nose, then lips. "Now. Let's eat dinner before it gets too cold."

And it might take a while, for Eddie's insecurities to fade, but Steve keeps being Steve, which means perfect if not a little snarky, and then the next thing Eddie knows, it's been several decades and Steve will walk with him hand in hand to the courthouse and stand in line for hours to quickly get married. (They'll spend another two years planning the actual wedding because Eddie's dramatic and Steve's a perfectionist.)

[nfr-girly]

hasan finding out ur pregnant on stream 😭🫶🏼

AHH I’ve literally thought of this before - but then I remember I write and I can literally do it myself 😣

————————————————————————

-you’d probably have found out a few days before you tell him, just so nervous to say anything

-he’d notice too, ur mood changes a lil and he gets a bit worried

-you’d decide to show him on stream, and I can guarantee he’d be going off about a political topic and just FUMING at all the idiots he’s watching

-you slightly open the door and he stops to look at you, he’s still red after ranting for almost 10 minutes, while you’re there all nervous 🥹🫶

-“you okay baby?” He’d ask, which does settle you a bit and you walk over to him, not even saying anything and handing the test to him

-chat can see it’s a pregnancy test and already starts FLOODING the chat before Hasan can even react, just a bunch of “OMG STOP” “IS THAT A TEST??!!??” “Hasan in his dad era”

-Hasan actually takes a minute to figure out what it says, partly because he’s still coming back from his outburst earlier, but also because of all the emotions going through his head.

-you do start to get worried seeing how long he takes to respond. you whisper a “Hasan?” to get his attention, already preparing to take whatever harsh words he has to say, cause you’re starting to think this isn’t what he wants

-but when he looks up your heart actually melts, all the red in his face now gone and now replaced with tears in his eyes

-“is this real?” He asks, begging that it is

-“yeah it’s real” you giggle a bit, knowing now he’s not mad

-all of a sudden you’re hugged by a 6’4 man who’s bursting into tears, literally almost knocking you over, mans literally bolted into you

-you laugh and play with his hair, now crying yourself 🥹

- “so you’re okay with this?” You ask

-he looks at you and wipes his eyes, “are you kidding me? I’m gonna be a dad of course I am” he laughs and kisses you

-bro everyone’s crying in the chat now cause of you two lovebirds

-SPEAKING OF CHAT the amount of emotions that went through everyone ??

-the excitement upon seeing the test, the worry at Hasans reaction, and then the support after he hugged you

-chat needs a break cause wtf

-but after you guys calm down you guys go outside in the corridor to talk for a sec, you tell him about when you found out and he feels so bad he couldn’t have supported you when you did 🥲

-you don’t care anymore you’re just so happy

-you let him go back to the stream and you guys agree to talk later

-he’d come back to the stream and need to take like 6 minutes to get back into it

-he actually does forget what he was ranting on about 😭 chat has to go through it with him

-trust though he does go back to full on RAGING once he reads something stupid

-but all that’s on his mind is this new journey you two will be on <33

[notjustjavierpena]

Eat

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Pussy? Eaten. Stomach? Butterflies. Hotel? Trivago.  Think this takes place short after Gush.

Summary: You tell Joel that you cannot come from getting eaten out, but he isn’t convinced. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, soft soft soft and patient joel, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, intense orgasm, pet names , bit of praise kink and body worship

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49669783

Eat

Joel has you completely naked and pinned to his bed. It’s a Saturday afternoon, sun is pining in through the curtains and heating up the room that’s already warm from your bodies being entwined. You have yet to get out of bed despite needing a shower, perhaps some food for your growling stomach, and maybe a glass of ice water from how sweaty your body is when you are in the older man’s proximity. He makes your heart pound.

He hovers over you whilst on his knees between your legs, hands on your wrists and gaze hungry as he contemplates what he wants to do with you. Your stomach drops as he asks, “Will you lemme have it? Lemme eat your pussy, princess?”

It’s not that you don’t think this is sexy. It is just that. Though, despite how many times Joel has made you come during the summer, he actually hasn’t gone down on you yet. 

He has tried a million times though, but you have always playfully pushed his head away every time he has tried to descend on your body, distracted him with a blowjob, or made him finger your cunt instead. At this point, you still haven’t told him that the reason is that you simply don’t like it. 

“Joel,” you avoid his gaze, turn your head away, “I—“

Joel hasn’t heard hesitation from you before, only the jokes that he hasn’t taken to heart. He lets go of one of your wrists, takes hold of your chin, and guides your head back so you face him again. He furrows his brow at the uncertainty in your eyes that meet his, “What’s a’ matter?”

“Nothing,” you play dumb, avoiding his curious look once more but he snaps his fingers in front of you to regain your attention. You groan at how well it works, “Why would anything be wrong? It’s just… I don’t really like it. I can’t come from it.”

Joel narrows his eyes slightly, not convinced, “Why’d you think you can’t come from it?”

“This guy I was with,” you begin and it’s Joel’s turn to look uncertain. You want to roll your eyes; doesn’t he know that he has ruined everyone else for you by now? 

“Years ago,” you add, “He told me I took too long, so maybe I just, you know, couldn’t. I didn’t want to try again.” 

Joel doesn’t get pissed at the guy or start a rant like you expect him to do (something about that boy taking this sort of experience from you and turning it into something negative). Instead, he starts laughing to the point where he needs to rest his forehead against your shoulder to calm himself because the pout you give him just makes him laugh harder. 

“What?” You push at his head in annoyance. He cannot even hold onto your other wrist anymore. 

“Took too long. Jesus,” his laughter is interrupted by a cough. You can feel his chest vibrating against your own, “He was bullshittin’ you, baby girl. What a lazy piece of shit, and what range of stupid lil’ fuckers you’ve allowed to have what’s mine.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I hate it,” you squirm underneath him at his choice of words, reaching for his hair with your hands to pull at it gently, “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“It is kinda funny,” he looks up at you through his lashes. There’s something sweet to his voice whilst his eyes darken, “Hey now. It’s just… ya said ya didn’t squirt either, and then fuckin’ wet the bed.”

You go beet red, “Joel. God.”

“I’m merely a man just tryna prove a point,” he jokes, earning a glare. Something shifts a little in the air and then he isn’t playing anymore, “Will ya lemme try? Just f’me? We can stop anytime you want.”

“I don’t know,” you sound unsure. 

“We’ll go reeeal slow,” he pushes.

“O-okay,” you say. What’s the harm in letting him try? It’s not like it is uncomfortable for you, but rather just slightly boring and awkward. 

“Okay’s not a yes, princess,” Joel crawls up to try to kiss your uncertainty away. He pecks your lips over and over again, switching not long after to pepper your face with more gentle kisses instead. They’re scattered across your cheeks, lips, nose, above your eyebrows, soft eyelids, and chin. He doesn’t let up until you giggle sweetly. 

“Yes!” You squeak and mess up his hair, “Eat some damn pussy, if it means that much to you.”

“Try to relax for me,” he instructs and pushes himself to sit up again. His eyes have darkened further, “How do you want ya legs?”

You bend your legs, planting your feet firmly on the bed and spreading yourself open enough for Joel’s broad shoulders to fit between your thighs. He doesn’t go down yet though, keeping his promise of taking things slow in case you want to stop before it gets too intense. 

His lips connect to where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing his nose firmly into you to inhale your scent. It must be nothing but sleep and sweat by now. He opens his mouth against your skin, sucks across your collarbone until he reaches your jugular notch. He dips his tongue into the dent, and licks off the sweat before murmuring, “I can feel you not relaxin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a pounding heart and you mean it, curl your toes, but he shushes you immediately. 

“No, no. This ain’t on you, baby. Tell me what I can do to make ya relax,” he pulls back to look at your face. He looks so gorgeous with the sun hitting his body like this. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper without knowing why. 

“My baby wants to hear how gorgeous she is?” He asks as he goes back to putting his mouth on your throat. You tip your head back, and he hums against you, “How perfect ‘n beautiful ‘n sexy? Perhaps a little spoiled too?”

“Mhm, yes,” you rest your hand on the back of his neck when he starts to descend. His lips trail down between your breasts, and his huge palm covers one of them whilst he sucks on the other. He is eager, cheeky enough to tug your nipple into his mouth with his teeth. You moan softly.

“Fuckin’ love your tits, Jesus, look at you,” he mumbles absentmindedly to himself before going back in. He dares to suck a light purple mark onto your skin just close enough to your nipple so that you can cover it up and keep it a secret between the two of you even if going to the lake with friends and wearing your skimpy bikini.

You groan and arch your back when he switches to the other one of your tits, cupping it still whilst lapping at your nipple. He flicks his tongue across it just when you think he might pull away, causing you to let out a long drawn-out whine. 

“You fuckin’ love that, don’t ya?” He kisses the swell of your breast, tugs a little with his hand. You close your eyes, bolts of arousal shooting up your spine again when he suckles once more. 

Slowly, you find that much of the nervousness is seeping out of your body with every kiss, lick and suck of your salty skin. It may be the time to admit that Joel knows just which buttons to push to turn you into putty. It may also be the time to admit that you are starting to get excited about what is going to happen. Nervous but excited.

“You’re so soft… like damn silk,” he admires whilst he goes lower. His nose brushes along the length of your stomach, tickling a little to the point where you shiver and let out a soft sigh. He relishes in it, “Damn, baby. Listen to that sound.”

You rake your nails across his scalp when he nips at your skin. Heat is pooling in your belly and you can feel slick drip onto the sheets, running down the cleft of your ass, “Touch my pussy, Daddy.”

Joel tenses visibly at the nickname. He grips your hip, and somehow becomes a little rougher in everything he does, “Gotta wait. Maybe your disaster college boyfriend didn’t get ya worked up enough. I definitely ain’t gonna make that mistake.”

He crawls further down, kisses open-mouthed and hot right below your belly button several times. Even places the flat of his tongue against the skin there to lick long languid stripes, “Won’t start until you beg me to kiss your little twitchin’ clit.”

“But I’m so wet,” you pout, flexing the muscles in your stomach. When you try lifting your hips to find some kind of friction, he pushes you right back down into the mattress. 

“Stop,” he warns sternly. The hand on your hip runs across your belly, teases over your mound and ghosts over your clit until you cry feebly for him, “Do you want me to just touch ya between your pretty legs?” 

“I told you I don’t like the other thing,” you reply to spite him and egg him on. He smacks one of your thighs, wiggling the flesh after. 

“Liar,” he breaks eye contact to look right down at your cunt. You are sure that he can see how you clench around nothing, clit so hard that it is exposed from underneath the hood. You are so ready for him to follow through, no matter the nervousness in your body, “The anticipation wouldn’t have you this excited if yadidn’t care. You’ll fuckin’ let Daddy live between your thighs after he’s done eating.” 

“Fine,” you huff, spreading your legs further to punctuate your sentence, “Put your mouth on my pussy. Prove it.”

Joel groans at the sight of you giving in to him. He gets comfortable on the bed, legs hanging out over the edge. One arm scoops underneath you to curl around your right thigh and the other rests on top of your left. He splays his hand across your sternum, and almost automatically, you reach for it and tug at two of his fingers as if needing something to hold onto for dear life. 

“Now we talkin’,” he smirks. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt, heart almost beating out of your chest with how horny you feel. That, and the fact that what Joel is about to do to you seems to be the most intimate thing you can think of. It feels dangerous, exciting, and scary.

You put another pillow behind your back and head, so you can watch him over the top of your tits and his hand. He grumbles but waits. 

“Go,” you say with an apologetic smile, “Just wanted to see you.”

“Ain’t you adorable?” Joel gazes up at you to follow through on your wish, “Ready?”

“Just wanna come now,” you promise, “‘m just nervous. Makes me fidget.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, breath ghosting over your pussy as he lowers himself down slowly, “Makes ya toes curl too.” 

You cannot quite believe that you have Joel Miller’s face between your legs right now, and even less so believe the hungriest smile in history that he is sporting. It is enough to make you blush, letting go of Joel’s hand and reaching up to cup your face when the anticipation becomes overwhelming. You rest your pinkies in front of your mouth, palms burning from being clasped around your cheeks but it feels like you might lose it if you let go.

The simple brush of his tongue that he chooses as a starting point has you squirming on the bed. His tongue is warm and flat against you, licking how he had done it against the sensitive skin of your stomach. 

Your stomach muscles twitch. It feels… good. Better than the first time you did it. 

“Okay?” He asks in a hum, looking up at you through his lashes with genuine eyes. You nod slowly, and he lowers again to press a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. 

And then another.

And another. 

You make a noise best described as a soft sigh. 

Then he goes lower, the kisses becoming more sloppy and wet. He stops when he reaches your quivering cunt, lets out his tongue to scoop up some of the slick that has gathered and is spilling down between your cheeks. He then licks a long stripe all the way up to your clit, and laps at it like he is eating a damn ice cream cone. 

“Mhmm, tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, like heaven,” he continues with his small licks, the hand on your chest finding your left nipple. Tugs like he knows you like. 

You moan for the first time, not sure if you have repressed the urge to do so. He takes it as a sign to keep going, stiffening his tongue to run it between your folds repeatedly and eventually settling on your clit again. He flicks the tensed-up muscle against the nub, setting up a pace that suddenly causes you to whine.

“Ohh,” you swallow thickly, part your lips and breathe heavily. A muscle in the thigh that Joel is holding flexes involuntarily, and you can feel him smirk against you when he moves back to open-mouthed kisses. 

“No, go back,” you demand, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Joel pulls back instead to tease you. He removes his hand from your thigh to suck his thumb into his mouth. He makes you tremble at the sight, but even more when he circles your clit with the pad of the finger after, “You like Daddy’s tongue on your pussy, baby?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Say it,” he still draws lazy circles.

“Feels so good,” you admit finally with a groan, “You’re always right.”

“Know I am,” he kisses your inner thigh. The hand on your breast moves to rub soothingly up and down your belly, “‘bout time you realized.”

“I want you to keep going,” you say with a shy smile, blinking down at him, “Please, Daddy?”

His hands still on you, but then he reaches to place both hands on your inner thighs to spread you out a little further. You fall back into the pillow, and he sinks into you again, “Whatever baby wants, baby gets.”

You have never actually thought about how big his mouth is before. In fact, it is huge in comparison to everything about you. He is able to stretch his lips over every inch of your cunt, and he gladly does.

Your breath hitches before you let out a drawn-out moan. Joel eats you out enthusiastically; he licks, sucks, and even dips his tongue inside of you for a moment too. You can feel the world closing in on you, shrinking to nothing but the pressure that builds. 

“It’s—“ you want to say something that makes sense, because whatever you had done in the dim light of your college dormitory a few years prior was definitely not this, but there are no words that describe how overwhelming his slick tongue is, “It’s— oh God.”

You squeal pathetically as your cunt teeters on the edge of an orgasm. You try to press your thighs inwards to make the intensity go away, but Joel is so much stronger than you.

It hits you then. Fuck, it’s going to happen; you’re going to come with his mouth between your legs, and he is never going to let you live this down. This is not what you had planned. There is a little part of you that knows you would have relished in being right for once, but there’s a much bigger part that thanks the Gods that you aren’t going to live forever without coming like this. 

You close your eyes as you groan, but it makes Joel slow down, “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart, look at me.”

He sucks again, and your hands fly to his hair, but it only goes on for a second, “Ya doing so well. Does it feel good, princess?”

“You’re being mean,” you whimper, tugging at the strands of hair that you have between your fingers, “Make me come.”

Joel follows through then. He buries his nose in your mound and sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks with how much effort he puts into it. When you start thrashing on the bed, he wraps his arms around your legs and holds you tightly in place until you fall apart right below his mouth. 

You shriek as your cunt spasms. If not for Joel’s strength, you are sure that you would have accidentally kneed him in the face, because your legs lose control of themselves as if the orgasm has severed any connection to them. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” you break the swearing rule as your orgasm peaks, pushing and pulling his head away because you don’t have a clue whether you want more or less. Your back arches as Joel keeps licking through your drenched folds, you think you might have started to cry too. 

Shaking breaths echo through Joel’s bedroom as you come down. Joel has removed your hands from his head, and you have slumped into the mattress with a whimper. Nothing has ever felt more dirty. 

“Are you okay?” He asks after crawling up the bed to lay beside you. He rubs your stomach with his broad hand, and even that makes you let out a feeble sigh. 

You laugh with exhaustion, but don’t reply. 

“I do good?” He asks with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his hand over his soaked mouth and chin. 

You turn your head to look at him but then start giggling, pointing to your own nose, “You got a little… you know.”

He doesn’t get it when he wipes his hand over his nose the first time. You laugh harder due to the dopamine flowing through your system, and he grumbles, “Well help me then, kiddo.” 

When you beckon him closer, he moves without hesitation, and as you run your index finger down his nose to catch your own shiny arousal, you try to push down the feeling of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

It’s a feeling that needs to go away. You can’t possibly love Joel Miller and survive.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[cloudsontherainbow]

Vox Tickle Headcanons!!

Because my art has been making itself at a very slow rate, have some Vox headcanons that rot my brain while you wait

These are mixed up with lee and ler because I was just going on a rampage

my lil guy @hype-blue-fixation was most of my inspiration for this

WARNING: Some might be a bit intense for some viewers so keep that in mind!!

———————————————————————————————

Can NOT say tickle when in a lee mood, replacing it with “tiggle” or “tword”, however in a ler mood he’ll be sure to make the lee crumble by just that word

Absolutely bullies the lee if he’s the one wrecking their ass, there will be zero mercy

He’s a evil teaser, that is his weapon 

“Ohohoh look who just found a bad spot~”

“Let’s see how loud I can get you..that way I don’t have to tell everyone how ticklish you are, you’ll be doing it yourself~”

Will not stop till safe word is said, he wants to saver every single second he has to drive the lee crazy

Instead of “soft to rough” tickles, he likes doing “rough to soft” tickles 

When in a ler mood, he likes scratching his claws on anything (ex. On his desk, edge of his sleeves, running them on the walls)

When in a lee mood, he will hang around his pet sharkies a lot, getting subtle cuddles from them<3

He’d rather burn in hell twice than ask for tickles.

In a lee mood, he’ll be extra sensitive to any sort of touch; flinching away from hugs, pat on the back, even handshakes

He’s a runner and will try to escape if even a mention of him getting tickled is said 

Bratty.

Even while getting his ass wrecked, he’ll say bratty comments 

“Is this all you got??”

“And here you said you were gonna have me breathless, where’s all that talk?”

Except once you really get him cackling, he will be begging for his life 

He’s a stomper

And of course, a squirmed too, this man WILL NOT stay still no matter what you do

The back of his head/tv panel is his worst spot. No one will convince me otherwise.

You can very much trick him to admit to wanting tickles; teasing him the whole day with slight touches, subtle teases, anything that resembles tickling will drive him insane to the point where he will burst

“STOP IT with the stupid fucking teasing, you’ve been fucking with me the entire day. Just t-t-t-…fuck-“ Just imagine the ler smirking down at him, getting the tv man flustered as fuck and realizes it was a trick all along~

“I don’t want it anymore. Get AWAY from me!!-“

Has ticklish palmmmssss

He actually doesn’t mind when Vel/Val just trace his palms, using him as a fidget toy

He rants to his sharks about the tickle scenarios in his head, and it’s a lot

When he gets too flustered, he has to release it in some kind of way; whether that be punching the floor, kicking his feet, insulting (with no real heat) to his ler, and etc, anything you can think of

When he wants to cover his face, he just rotates his tv head 360 degrees and lays it on the ground

But that exposes his tv panel so it’s a big gamble to hope that his ler doesn’t know that’s even a tickle spot

[vesperane]

dirty little secret

cw: age gap. leon is 21 and reader is in her late 30s. sooo. yeah. potential cheating? probably. awkward flirting. no beta reading. idek what to add ;(

a lil note: controversial topic but listening to artemas’ song i couldn’t help but think of re2 leon and the reader in her late thirties who is an aspiring milf... so yes... here it is the first chapter of the series and idek how many chapters it will take me to finish this bc lately im just feeling intense disorientation?? anywayz i just want some angst and some yearning and it’s all about rookie leon with his questionable mommy kink & his sad big blue eyes.

chapter 1

“Leon, ventilate your stinking room!" 

The morning routine begins with a refreshing shower and Leon’s combing his hair when the voice of Giselle, the biweekly working housekeeper, jars him out of his thoughts. He huffs and puffs since the song he was humming got halved halfway through. 

“Jesus, man. It’s not like I’m running away,” he rants to himself. He dumps his comb on his bedside drawer, barely finding a gap between the volumes of books. Careless and haphazard.

The morning breeze caresses his face when he reaches for his window and cranes it open; the zephyr brings a sweet repose after his long slumber. 

The fresh aroma of autumn rain wafts through the city. It rained non-stop last night while he slept soundly all night. The best time of the year—Leon’s absolute favorite season—had come barging through the door. Lovely morning. Gives him a certain contentment. 

Leon’s eyes, lit by the pale blue and cerulean purity as he surveys the block, fix on the move-in truck. It had been rumored for a few days that there would be other residents moving into the neighborhood. His curiosity about this new family was naturally piqued, considering he hadn’t personally heard much about the new family moving in next door. But all he could see were men working, packing things into the lift, and a few weary groups of old and some young faces. 

Maybe he should go down and help them. Sounds like a good idea. 

He didn’t have much to do on the weekend anyway. Except that the rumbling, fluttery growl of his stomach thwarts his plan of introducing himself. Breakfast time. Shouldn’t be too much trouble to grab a bite to eat right now, and head downstairs, he thinks to himself as he flaps the window shut. 

In the kitchen, he helps Giselle with breakfast, pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, and there’s an empty seat at the table. Somebody is out of the usual, all-too-cloying family picture. His dad is the missing part. 

It doesn’t take long. Leon knows his dad has already gone out, probably to the station. 

“Wasn’t dad on patrol yesterday?" 

“Yeah, kid, but he didn’t show up yesterday. Tried ringing him, sure, but Mr. Kennedy didn’t pick up the phone.” Giselle ruffles Leon’s hair as she always does before she settles the breakfast plate in front of him. 

With a gruff retort, Leon smooths back the hair that has fallen in front of his eyes. God, he hates when they fuck up his perfectly washed hair.

Now don’t get him wrong, Leon sees Giselle as the granny he never had—she’s a part of the Kennedies and a sweet aunty who knows some good cookie recipes, but this kind of cuddly gesture is starting to grate on him now that he’s all grown up. It’s been like this for the last couple of years, since he hit puberty, so to speak. 

“Why are you talking to me like I'm a 12-year-old kid?” It’s hard to comprehend, really. Leon isn’t a 12-year-old kid anymore—he’s a goddamned adult, and he thinks he should be treated like one. 

“Because your hair is always soft, my sweet boy.”

“Whatever.” He waves it off abruptly, but his cheeks do flush. 

“The folk moving in the next door got a boy just like you. Oh, how adorable. Unlike you, he thanked me when I brought some cookies and didn’t pout at me like you always do." Giselle grouses to herself as she walks over to the sink, to the dishes. Typical and ungrateful grandma. 

“Giselle, have you ever heard of the term first impression? The guy probably did that so he’d paint himself as a good neighbor. Jeez!” Leon bites into his morsel of food with a know-it-all lecture. So dramatic, as per usual.

“That still makes him a better boy than you, Leon. Have I ever told you before that you’re growing more like your father as you get older?" 

“Oh, come on. Don’t play the granny card with me now,” Leon says facetiously, but inwardly he knows Giselle’s making a valid point. It’s as if it’s Leon’s instinctive nature to emulate his father, even if he doesn’t want to, not necessarily anyway. But the motivation to be a cop just like his dad is pressing, driving. Knowing that the world he lives in is laden with acidic and poisonous clouds in lieu of rosy skies, Leon never lost his dreamy streak; he was welcomed into a warm home by this very cop when he was a little boy, before he even knew his own name. 

Little by little, Leon treads a path he has decided to take so that every person in trouble, not least kids without a mother or a father, can emerge with that feeling of penchant. Sure, it makes him uneasy; sometimes it’s hard to walk, but it’s always better than nothing. For many more Leon’s to save, to protect. Call it Pollyannaism, call it overly optimizing, even a White Savior complex—Leon wouldn’t mind. He has a solid goal, and that’s it. 

The pandemonium he encounters when he comes downstairs after breakfast is more chaotic than he expected.

“Jesus, a hell of a mess,” he maffles, sotto voce. 

Leon paves the way towards a burly man carrying a vast television set, its screen packed securely in bubble wrap. His eyes, searching for the owners of the apartment, fell on you for the first time—a woman he had never seen before—when he was watching this blight from his window this morning. 

With your back straight to him and a notepad in your hand, you’re recounting something to another staff member. Pencil skirt, button-up shirt ensemble. Ohh, professionalism is talking now.

You must be the daughter of the proprietor of the house or something, in Leon’s opinion. Maybe he should introduce himself before jumping into the conversation. 

Without further ado, he approaches you from behind and calmly pays a detached ear to your conversation with the second worker, who listens to your every word with a perpetual tartness on his face, as if he’s constantly sucking on an acerbically godawful lemon. 

“As I said, the leather on the canapés is authentic, very very prone to ripping. All I ask for is your undivided attention, sir.” 

“Of course, ma’am,” the worker sheepishly gives partiality to the subject, and, relieved that at least your belongings are safe, you look over at the... boy who stands next to you. His powder blue, beaming eyes are the first thing you notice. 

“Hey,” he begins, confidently, to say the least. A sweet attempt. Who could this be? 

“Do I know you?” 

“Oh, yeah— I meannn...” He opens his mouth, and with your proverbial raised eyebrow and probing gaze, Leon simply freezes. He should have known from the start that he was about to engage in a conversation with a hard-ass girl. 

He clears his throat. Awkward tension is killing the both of you, but you do a better job of hiding your emoticons than he does.

“As a matter of fact, yeah. Say hello to the boy next door. I’m Leon Kennedy.” Undeterred, precocious Leon still does what he has in mind: cracking a more sophomoric joke with a raised hand for a handshake. 

“Oh!” You draw on. No need to get rude now. 

His eyes twinkle and agleam. And you give your name to the boy you consider to be the next-door neighbor’s son, shaking his hand cordially. Piece of cake, baby; he knows your name now. 

“It’s been an exhausting day, Leon. Please forgive me if I started with a rude attitude.” You release his hand and then smack your forehead with the hand holding the notebook. Leon thinks it’s very amiable—the moue on your face and the way you switch off the bitching mode almost immediately. 

“No problem, no problem.” Leon raises his hands, palms open and facing outwards. 

“Man, where are your parents? Are they running off with all the work on you?” 

Your parents? Parents?

Aww, that boy’s got it all so wrong. Normally, if you weren’t so knackered, you would have burst out laughing. Anyway, keep it as a memory that you will remember later and laugh your head off. 

“My parents are on vacation in California, Leon." 

“What?” His jaw slacks open. “That’s cruel, damn.” He shakes his head in negativity, as though he has heard the world’s most insipid news. 

“Sure, of course, dear. Only, I must tell you, as the woman of the house, I can take care of a small house relocation.” You cross your arms beneath your chest, tucking them close. 

A pause.

Okay, did you really call him dear and, oh, so randomly? And why are you talking like you’re a character out of those grievous novels?

He’s tense. You’re making Leon reconsider everything he’s done and endured as the numskull he believes himself to be.

The what? The lady of the house? What’s a what? 

You’re married?

...

You’re married.

And most importantly, was Leon mindlessly flirting with a married woman? A chick, actually, just look at you! That, however, isn’t the point. 

His pupils are pinpoint; his blues are narrow and indigo spheres. The poor boy is in a state of sheer perplexity. 

“Holy shit!” His reaction doesn’t last long to be blurted out of his plump lips; it’s visceral, and the picture is unbelievably ridiculous to follow. 

“You’ve got to be kidding. You barely look in your twenties. Ahem! Well, you look great, ma’am.” He mumbles again and again; he’s rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Where is his initial and boyish verve now? 

Alas, you let him compose himself. Let the poor boy take a breath, right? 

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” you interrupt, so that the boy who’s fiddling uneasily with the fabric of his jacket sleeve will feel a little better. You don’t want to look like a scary and heartless witch in his eyes, anyway. 

“Heh,” he snorts, but futilely. It’s not a pleasant feeling—the guilt wracking fumes swelling deep inside his belly and clenching his muscles in a huge balloon that will eventually implode and burst. 

“Anyway,” he says resolutely; there’s no need to drag it out any further. Let this little talk be a funny, unforgettable, and endearing first impression for both of you. 

“There seems to be a lot of stuff here. Thought I’d drop by to help you out with those,” Leon smiles, all warm and sincere. Playing the role of a wonderful and helpful neighbor, a hero, is his favorite sport. 

“I never turn down a kind helping hand.” 

And you’re up for it. 

With your hands on your hips, you take a cursory glance around and tip your head at the rows of plants in large pots on the floor. 

“I’d be truly grateful if you could help me take these up to the living room. I’ll need them watered, those poor, poor lovelies.” Your eyes fall on his blues again, and it feels gratifying to capture that sheen of sparkle in them. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He... salutes you.

Alright... Boy with a goody-goody attitude. 

You don’t have to tell him twice. Carefully and effortlessly, Leon lifts two heavy pots (show off!), almost child-sized, and you follow him into the elevator with the tiny cactus succulents in your hands. 

part 2?

[scho17]

@hibiscusseaart

Ren Nohara

Ren and Kks doodles + me yapping ab this AU bc the brain rot has me in a chokehold

close ups so yall dont have to zoom in

I JUST REALIZED THIS WOULD MEAN THAT NARUTO IS TECHNICALLY ALSO THE HATAKE CLAN HEIR URAGHHHH

I NEED TO DRAW HIM WITH ALL THE NINKEN SO SO BADDDDDD

KAKASHI SHARING CLAN LORE BC HE HAS PACK TO CARRY ON HIS CLANS HISTORY AND TRADITIONS BC IT ISN'T JUST HIM ANYMORE SAVE ME SAVE ME

Hatake 'the line ends with me' Kakashi BUT NOT ANYMORE BABY HELL YEAH!! having a spouse and child will do that to you

Now does he really gaf ab tradition? Honestly, probably not but the idea of him not being alone in terms of family/clan is what he deserves (along with a lot of therapy).

HE MAY STILL BE MENTALLY ILL BUT NOT AS BADLY AS THE FIRST TIME AROUND 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Also, the consequences of Naruto having two parents who are both some of the most elite shinobi in Konoha is probably one of the best 'fuck off' deterrents he could have in terms of curbing harassment over his being the nine-tails container.

ALSO ALSO, "I'm gonna be Hokage!" oh and he's wearing those little blue goggles and carrying around the weight of a dead boy's dream without really knowing just how heavy that burden is but still carrying it all the same in the way only optimistic children can. Oh bitch I'm throwing up everywhere. Like yes he's going to bring peace to the shinobi world but he is also giving both his dad's the worst type of heart ache. Seeing doubles because he's so much like Obito but blonde and four times as stubborn.

kkrn trying so hard not to see ghosts in their kid but he's literally a mash up of Minato, Kushina, and Obito. Minato's kindness, Kushina's vitality, and Obito's pure will to be good.

Not saying that ghosts are all they see cause it's very much not. Naruto is still Naruto but sometimes there's that outline of an old memory that just doesn't fade. A little like deja vu I guess. Kakashi and Ren are so glad it's peacetime because even the thought of dandelion blonde beneath a too-big boulder makes breathing that much harder.

I imagine he gets trained an insane amount because both Kakashi and Ren want him to be able to defend himself. Even while it's peacetime, they're shinobi, there's always a risk. So long as Naruto is on active duty he'll always be in danger. With both of his guardians growing up/serving in the third war when they were barely older than Naruto it's practically a given.

Not that I think Naruto would complain about being able to learn jutsu/shinobi skills. He'd probably be stoked about it until he has to spend like four hours straight throwing shuriken and reading survival guides about edible plants. He complains about it. Loudly. mb lil bro half of ninja training is literally just ingraining reflexes and learning the land.

mmm academy-era Naruto going to the memorial stone and ranting about his day to it in the way he's seen both Ren and Kakashi do in the past. That's so cute and sad like "and then Shikamaru slept the whole time but it was supposed to be a GROUP project! Can you believe that!" and Obito is in the bushes nodding his head along like the good uncle he is. (He literally tried to murder Naruto when he was less than an hour old.)

Naruto just talks and talks and talks. About everything and nothing and its probably like the least depressing one-sided conversation Obito has ever heard in front of his grave (looking at you Kakashi, Ren).

I imagine that Naruto kind've treats the stone/Obito's memory fondly. Both Ren and Kakashi talk about him in warm tones and with growing up hearing stories of him it's hard not to feel like he knows him. He's not there, obviously, but if Naruto closes his eyes and imagines that scowling boy in his parent's team photo while he talks it almost feels real. (Honey, you've got a big storm coming.)

To their family, Obito is forever thirteen. He's passionate and has a short fuse. He loves sweets and has eyes and hair darker than the night, he's a sucker for a sob story and helps old ladies with their groceries. Naruto finds it hard not to see a friend in a ghost he's never met.

AA and then post Uchiha Massacre, Naruto just stares at the stone and wonders that if Obito were still here would he be gone too? Man I need to see what's going on in Obito's head during that.

On an unrelated note i wonder where the fuck Jiraiya is in all this. Bro is just out and about doing fuck all as two fourteen year olds take care of his godson and he's running from responsibility😭 i bet he sends guilt money. Ren literally doesn't give a single shit because even if Jiraiya did try for custody he would literally be getting his hands chopped off. No way in hell is Ren letting a pervert like that raise a kid that's a recipe for disaster. The money is nice but Ren could not give less of a fuck ab that mans guilt. Like "oh, you feel bad for not owning up to your God Father title that Minato, my late sensei, entrusted to you? Good."

I need to see Ren and Genma + Anko and Kurenai friendship. They would be a horrible terrible no good amazing friend group. Terrifying when together. Four horsemen of the apocalypse when they have an idea and put their mind to it.

Anyway, what are our opinions on ANBU Ren and Ren meeting 'Sukea' bc that all i've been able to think ab today. Okay, I'm done yapping thanks for listening.

[i-need-a-slurpee]

My best friend and I came up with a stupid little concept for our silly little "akechi lives don't ask how though" persona 5 AU

So you know how middle school and high schoolers use codenames with their best friends to talk about other people in public. Like referring to someone's crush as "pineapple" we were thinking that akira does that but since they already have codenames he just switches everyone's codenames down one in order of who joined. We used a whiteboard to illustrate what kind of shenanigans could ensue

I'm gonna write down everything that was on the board in case it's difficult to understand when looking at the picture

A key to all the symbols

-> are Akechi's thoughts

On its own are things that are said

Codenames: Akira - Violet, Ryuji - Joker, Morgana - Skull, Ann - Mona, Yusuke- Panther, Makoto - Fox, Futaba - Queen, Haru - Oracle, Akechi - Noir, Sumi - Crow. The only people who know and understand the codename switch are Ann, Akira and Ryuji and they use it to gossip

The fun begins when we decided to torture Akechi by having him accidently overhear almost every conversation where these confusing nicknames are used.

Akechi overhears:

Akira: omg Noir is so cute

-> cries and calls Ann

[This is the phone call Akechi has with Ann, which is labeled with 3 on the whiteboard:

Akechi: heyyy Ann so funny story um does Akira like...yknow...like Noir? Haru?

Ann, knowing the truth and thinking this is the funniest thing ever: omg yea girl he totally for real likes Noir

Akechi, wanting to die a lil bit: haha cool thats great thx bye]

"Queen is gonna ask out Crow"

-> gag, ew, distance from Makoto bc omg WHY

"Fox and Oracle are dating"

-> ?? I thought Oracle was a lesbian??

"Shujin is gonna fall apart now that Fox left"

-> he went?? to Kosei?? hello??

Akira: "Skull is so heavy T^T like he decides fo sleep right on my ribs it hurts"

-> ?????

Akira: "so yea I'm gonna ask Noir to go to the jazz club tonight, since it's like, our place, yknow"

-> WHAT THE FUCK.

-> (gets a text from akira to go to the jazz club 2 minutes later)

4. Akechi rants to sumi about it cause he doesn't trust ann anymore

☆ has a detective board with w/ quotes ect.

☆ sumi also tries to help (even more confused than he is)

Ann: violet needs to ask noir out already

Ryuji: I know dude, like I love the guy but, c'mon

-> SUMI'S IN ON IT TOO T^T

Akira does this needlessly complicated name system just to be messy. He doesn't plan on akechi finding out but he keeps it complicated in case any of the others overhear him. He didn't think the possibility of akechi overhearing was very high but Akechi loves to eavesdrop.