#both like to take advantage of the other though. so not gonna play it off like daffy is some poor begotten victim of bugs' wrath

[that-rackin-frackin-varmint]

#41 — 07/31/2022 9:28 AM

And here’s domestic Baffy fuel for y’all

Present day thoughts:

See, I like that they can have these moments where they just banter. It adds some background on what they get up to beyond their competitive rivalry/antagonism in their classic shorts.

Also Bugs can actually be quite open about casual things when conversing with Daffy. "How would you liked to be remembered?" and he gives a genuine response. He's willing to be sincere with Daffy, and this is a consistent aspect to his character whether or not it's Daffy. He's sometimes very blunt and childishly naive, other times he's deceptive and feigning innocence.

Even though in some portrayals he can be deliberately obtuse that it feels like he has some vendetta against Daffy, this other casually open and frank side of him is not gatekept from Daffy. So you can see why Daffy sometimes lets himself be vulnerable around Bugs. Sometimes Bugs can be a simple sweetheart, which makes it all the more devious when he uses that disposition while tricking his adversaries.

[r1elle]

for my peace of mind i want to live in the belief that miya atsumu has AT LEASTTTT got to be a candidate in the “pretending to be nonchalant but horrendously failing at it” trope.

like can you just imagine ..

a just freshly out of the change room miya atsumu, —who, by the way, has his brothers clothes on. (he wants to make a cool impression, and unfortunately, it’s his brother who always has the better outfit choices between the both of them. though he’d rather die than admit it.) anywho, he’s outside of the gym on standby to see if you had already walked past the building at your usual time. (he knows because he’s timed it.)

and when he realizes you already did, and that he had missed to take advantage of that one time slot in your routine, he’s BUMMED. he’s bummed out like a bum in bum central. but it happens as much as it doesn’t, so he still can’t figure out why he’s so dejected whenever the outcome turns out to be the former. (maybe cause he’s just so in love with you like that ?? duh)

but anyway, cmon now. you really didn’t even stop by to see if you could catch a glimpse of him setting ?? serving ?? heck, even spiking ?!?! because he couldn’t care less whether or not you knew which position he played, or what move he often did on court—…okay, well, maybe he cared just a bit. but screw all that. he can just tell you all about it when he’s finally able to call you his ! because what’s most important right now, is you seeing him during the times when he looks his “absolute coolest”.

but goodness gracious you should see the complete 360 his expression does when he sees you laughing along with your friends near the vending machine, indicating you hadn’t fully left just yet. he’s basically grown dog ears, and they’re raised HIGHH. osamu just wants to throw up, especially even more so as he sees heart eyes practically being etched onto his twin brothers dna, and he could only hope it wouldn’t apply to him as well.

with this profound opportunity, atsumu suggests that maybe they should buy something from the vending machine using their remaining coins. (“their” as in osamu’s. atsumu has .99 to spare, but he thinks he’ll save it for another day. perhaps to buy you those 50 cent candies at the nearby 7/11?).

“i’m thirsty. are ya not? c’mon. let’s use ‘em remainin’ cents.” though, anyone can see that it wasn’t a suggestion. it was a demand. (atsumu has never loved the “i was born 5 minutes before you.” card so hard in his entire life.)

osamu can’t help but feel the obvious desperation radiating off of his brothers anticipating expression, so he feels bad and says yes. atsumu internally thanks his brother, thinking that maybe telling him that ‘he should’ve ate him in the womb’ a couple of days ago was a bit mean.

but now that he’s infront of you, what should he do? the boy can physically feel his critical thinking skills melting away.

and so, with little time to actually prepare, he settles on nodding his head towards yours as a greeting (? if it can even be called a greeting), avoiding eye contact as he poorly executes his cowardly advances. he internally wallows in doing so, because that was NOT what he wanted to do. gosh….why couldn’t he be as smooth as he was on court ?!?! what he wanted to do was,—

“hey,” [add in a lazy but still oozing with confidence expression. whatever looks nonchalant and cool!] “want this? i was gonna buy one for myself,” [handing off his coins with one hand while his other one goes off to casually brush his blond hair to the side,] “but eh. dun’ really want it. take it, if ya’ want.” [finishing off with a low-key but proud sniff as he shoves his hands onto his pockets.]

but no. that was not what had happened. at all.

instead, he’s now completely focused over to the vending machine, his eyes directly staring onto the drink he had caught glimpse of you already drinking. (how could he not? it was the whole reason his plan backfired.)

well. at least he was able to give out a (puny) nod at you.

before he could even do anything else to salvage this already weak pursuit of his, atsumu hears you and your friends’ conversation exit out of his earshot. assuming that you were now further away from him, his knees seem to find themselves giving in.

one may think it was due to the exercises coach had given for todays practice.

but miya atsumu is a star volleyball player who yields the magic of ‘athleticism’. so surely, the runs up the mountain during todays agenda should hardly be the reason of any damage caused on the blonds already well maintained physique.

and surely,

heated cheeks, rapid beating of the heart, growing sense of frustration, and a yearning for some sort of impactful interaction with you..

wouldn’t qualify as side effects of hard practice, right?

“stop leanin’ on the vending machine like that, ya’ idiot.” osamu snidely comments, and his ‘face-mushed-to-the-vending-machine’ twin brother can only groan in response.

——

the walk back home is surprisingly quiet, until a low grumble decides to finally greet the silence.

“i was supposed to talk to her.”

“maybe that lame nod told her all that ya’ needed to say.”

“it ain’t my fault she already had a drink in her hand!”

“yeah, yeah. sure. ya’ still looked lame, though. i almost felt bad.”

“shut up! ya’ don’t know what it’s like to be a man in love!”

“…..….”

a silence.

a silence from atsumu who’s now just truly realized how doomed he was.

a silence from osamu who wonders if the person behind them had heard atsumu’s rather flamboyant confession.

“love, huh? didn’t know you were that deep into her.”

“ARRRRRRVHHHHGGGGGGGGGH! SHUT YER’ TRAP, SAMU’!! I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHIN’ !!!”

and of course,

a silence from you, who couldn’t help but just take the longer way back home, all because it meant getting to walk a few steps behind him. (even if he had always failed to notice you doing so, every. single. time.)

i was thinking of ryu sunjae from lovely runner while making this … i hope most ppl will see the vision 💔💔 I JUST LOVE LOSER MEN WHO JUST LOVE THEIR PARTNERS SO VERY MUCH !!!!

[worldlxvlys]

ice

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttt, ice play, tittie fixationnn, cursing

a/n: hope you likeee

based off of these snaps

i watched as matt picked up a piece of ice from his cup, popping it in his mouth like a piece of candy.

“you’re fucking insane for that” i said, looking at him as though he was crazy.

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, yeah. you think i’m weird for eating ice, i’m aware”

“you’re right, i do”

“well you’re entitled to your wrong opinion”

“i’m never wrong” i narrowed my eyes at him.

“well, you are now” he said as he got up from my couch, walking towards my kitchen.

i quickly followed him, refusing to back down so easily.

“no, i’m not. you’re trying to tell me it’s normal to be obsessed with frozen water?”

he held his cup up to the fridge, filling it up with more ice from the dispenser.

“there are plenty of people who enjoy eating ice. maybe you’re the weird one”

“no i’m not. i just don’t like ice”

he tilted his head at me, squinting his eyes at me.

“you sure about that, princess?” the look in his eyes made my heart race.

he moved closer to me, making me slowly back up. my back was met with the hard marble of my kitchen island.

“yes” i said in a small voice.

“that wasn’t very convincing” he said, condescendingly.

my eyes shifted down to his hand, watching him pick up a piece of ice.

because i had no plans of actually going anywhere today, i opted out of putting a bra on under my tank top this morning.

matt took full advantage of this decision.

he placed the small cube against my clothed nipple, making me jump.

“shit! matt, that’s cold” i gasped out.

“that’s the point baby” he smirked at me.

he rolled the ice cube around my nipple, making my head fall back.

he gently pushed me back onto a barstool.

“those beautiful thighs are gonna be giving out soon baby. can’t have you falling” he said as he pulled the straps to my top down my shoulders.

he pulled the top down just enough to free one of my tits. he put the ice cube to it, while massaging the other through my top.

i bit my lip, trying desperately to suppress my moans.

“still don’t like ice?” he asked, watching as i tried to keep a straight face.

“no.”

he pulled my top over my head, exposing my boobs.

“let’s fix that” he said, taking what was left of the half-melted ice cube into his mouth and bringing his lips to my boob.

“o-oh fuck!” i yelled, as he moved the ice cube around.

my nipples were so hardened they almost hurt.

“god, matt” i sighed out.

he continued to swirl the cube, letting it melt on my skin. he continued to lick and lap at my nipple, even once the cube was gone.

he started to suck, leaving dark marks all over my chest.

“god, i love your tits” he whispered into my chest, looking up at me. the sight alone made my panties even wetter.

“so fucking perfect” he said, placing a kiss on both of them.

“take these off for me, baby” he said, tugging at the waistband of my pants.

“no.”

“excuse me ?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

“you heard me. take it off yourself”

“no.”

we both glared at each other, waiting for the other to break.

we played this game often, both being too stubborn to break.

i’m not giving in.

“beg for it” he said.

“no”

he took a piece of ice and slid it around my stomach.

my breathing picked up, trying to fight the way my body reacted to the the cold.

he slowly moved the ice under my waistband, making my hips jolt.

“shit!”

he placed the ice against my pussy, making me clench around nothing.

he licked a stripe up my neck, stopping just below my ear.

“tell me you like the ice” he whispered in my ear, his voice raspy.

“no”

he moved the direction of his hand sharply, pressing the ice against my clit.

“tell me you like it” he started to rub circles on my clit with the ice.

“mmmmm” i whined.

the ice was now almost fully melted, and the stinging sensation paired with the sensitivity of my clit made my stomach tighten .

“say it” he pushed the little bit of ice left inside of me, making me shudder.

“no” i said in a broken moan. he removed his hand.

“fine” he said as he backed up.

“what? what do you mean fine?” i asked.

he licked the fingers that he just had in my pants.

“i’ll stop. i mean, you don’t like ice, right?”

“wait, matt-“

“no, it’s fine. i’ll just enjoy the rest of my ice by myself” he shrugged.

he can’t be serious.

he took a piece of ice from his cup, making an obnoxious slurping sound and moaning.

“god, i love ice” he said in an exasperated tone, almost mockingly.

i just stared at him in disbelief.

“well, i’m going back to the couch” he said. “and if you even think about touching yourself, i swear to god, i’ll edge you for hours”

if he thought that would stop me, he was wrong.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

part 2 ??

updateee: pt 2 is here, go readdd :)

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chris @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling

[keithsfangs]

☆☆ nsfw headcanons

☆ keith's dick is lengthed slightly above-average, with an average sized girth. he doesn't bother with shaving too much, simply because he doesn't see much of a point in it— the hair is just going to grow back, anyway, and he's at least trimmed, so that's good enough for him.

☆ he doesn't mind topping or bottoming, unless he's in a particular mood for one or the other. both ways feel good to him, and as long as they feel good to you, too, he's more than happy to indulge in either.

☆ he isn't the submissive type. he prefers to stay dominant, in control, and fuck, if he isn't stubborn about it. you want him to submit to you? you have to earn it, and he sure as hell isn't gonna make it easy for you. he's bratty, pushing all your buttons until you're riled up just the way he likes.

☆ ("why don't you go ahead and make me, huh?" is one of his favorite things to say to you 😉)

☆ he can go pretty much any way you want. you want it hard and fast? he'll have you begging him to stop and for more at the same time. soft and slow? he'll be as gentle as possible, taking the time to please you, thoroughly admiring you all the while.

☆ he loves marking you up, it almost gets him off as much as the sex itself. scratching you, biting you, whatever— as long as there's clear evidence that you're his (galra are known to be territorial, after all), he's satisfied.

☆ he loves you marking him up, too. the mixed feeling of pain and pleasure as your nails dig or your teeth sink into him... he can never get enough of it, and knowing that they'll leave very visible marks on his pale skin is an added bonus.

☆ it takes him a bit to get used to calling you anything other than "babe"/"baby", and to dirty talk. admittedly, it's an awkward process for the both of you, full of trial and error— though eventually, after he learns what you like and don't like and stops getting in his own head about it, it comes more naturally to him.

☆ you can both agree that the awkward phase was worth it. because, once he's more confident, he's filthy. he gets real close to your ear and calls you any name you want to hear, whispers all the things he wants to do to you/wants you to do to him. he makes sure to throw in whimpers and moans, too, all soft and breathy, knowing exactly how it'll make you feel... basically, once he's vocal, he's vocal.

☆ (he makes the hottest noises ever, by the way. whether he's moaning, groaning, whimpering, whining— he sounds fucking good, and he knows he does, if your reactions are anything to go by... which they are. he definitely uses that knowledge to his advantage 💜)

☆ when it comes to praising or degrading you, he prefers to praise. it's hard for him to speak badly about you whenever you're so perfect in his eyes, and while he knows that the words are just for play, he can't bring himself to say anything too harsh even if you encourage him to. he'd much rather tell you how good you are, how amazing you look, how much he loves you...

☆ ... as for him, well, he's fine with either. as far as he's convinced, you can say almost anything to him and it'll get him going, just because it's you saying it.

☆ when he cums, he cums a lot. it's almost as intimidating as it is hot, and he just loves to make a mess of you with it, whether that's cumming on you or in you.

☆ of course, no matter how intense the two of you go at it, keith always makes sure to give you a gentle kiss when you're both finished. when you're looking at him like that, he just can't help it ♡

maybe i'll add more to this sometime, who knows 🤭

[1800titz]

Another pornstar!Harry TEASER

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

[nickmarini]

Hi there!

First of all, I just wanted to say thanks for being an amazing D&D players and a very kind and open person t the many fans like myself who saw you for the first time in Downfall and were amazed. I wish I got to play with people like you when I play and DM.

I was wondering about something. Ayden is a multi classing masterpiece and I wanted to know if you have any tricks for building a solid multi class that is both interesting and has a fair amount of powerful abilities. Every time I have tried my characters end up not good at anything or really good at a single thing thats not relevant.

Okay! That’s all! Thanks for being really cool and I hope you have a great day!

Well firstly thank you. I’m def gonna deep dive Ayden, but for multi-classing in general I will sort of talk my philosophy. When multi classing it is important to start with what you are hoping to achieve. I personally like multiclasses because I think it tells the story of a character. Mechanically though there’s a few things to think about. Is the character strictly martial a mix or a primary spell caster? If you’re a primary spell caster then if you’re heavily multiclassing you are likely trading away access to 9th level spells at minimum or simply grabbing something like spell points or a warlock pact. With Ayden being alongside the Archheart and Matron I felt like we had pretty decent 9th level spell access so I wasn’t too worried on that front and instead could focus on being as good of a support character as I could manage. A full caster multiclass will still get 9th level spells slots so your spells that scale based on level are still going to be powerful.

Martial or mixed spell casters multiclass builds are not as limited by the spell access issues full casters encounter but do encounter the same feat/ability score issues.

In terms of overall philosophy, first level dips can give a character an unusual saving throw proficiency or skills that might compliment a build. I look for abilities that compliment each other so for Ayden having guiding bolt (proficiency times a day from druid) and commanding rally (proficiency times a day from knight of the crows feat) let him shoot a bolt and then have someone follow up with a free attack with advantage 6 times a day. Look for combos that might take 2 separate 1 class builds working together to achieve, that you might be able to do pull off as a single character. Also coming from 3.5 I am a firm believer in feats. Feats allow you to customize your character in unique ways that can really shine when multiclassing.

And finally have fun! I am a huge nerd and enjoy pouring over books trying to find interesting combos or figure out how to make an idea I have work better, but to be honest few campaigns go from 1-20 so if you wanna play around with multi classes just do it!

[girlgenius1111]

talk more

alexia is stressed upon return to the international stage after her knee issues. she has the most aggressive game of her life against you, and you end up injured. you're both not telling each other how much you're really struggling.

this contains a completely made up and illogical game, don't come at me

cw: contains descriptions of a panic attack

-----

Alexia was on edge, even more so than she had been when you'd left your shared apartment a week ago for England camp. She'd gone to Spain's camp, both of you preparing with your respective teams for the upcoming nations league matches.

Alexia was back from her persistent knee issues, with something to prove. You knew how your girlfriend's mind worked, and you knew she was putting a lot of emphasis on this game. It was why she'd been distant the past week, why she was avoiding eye contact with you as you both stood in the tunnel, preparing to go out onto the pitch.

You hadn't mentioned your own problems when you'd spoken briefly to her over the phone. They seemed inconsequential compared to hers. You were exhausted, incredibly stressed, and you felt like responsibility for the whole team rested on your shoulders, what with Millie and Leah both out. You and Mary had stepped up, and the weight of trying to live up to your captains' was crushing. Alexia did this all the time, though, you reminded yourself. There was nothing to complain about. Once this game was over, she would relax, and so would you.

As you walked out onto the pitch, you ignored the pang of hurt when Alexia didn't even glance her way. It was time to play, time to win, not time to worry about your girlfriend ignoring you. Soon, though, you were worried not just for her, but for everyone else on the pitch. Alexia was playing aggressively, and for the most part it was paying off for her. The ref was being incredibly inconsistent with calling fouls and giving cards, something Alexia was taking advantage of. After she practically shoved Tooney to the ground on a corner, you spoke up, annoyed with how reckless she was acting.

"Cool it, Alexia. You're gonna hurt someone." You said quietly, as you briefly jogged past her. She just looked at you, mouth still pressed into a hard line, barely acknowledging that you'd spoken. You sighed, knowing it was just a matter of time before she was the reason someone had to go off.

You didn't expect it to be you. In Alexia's defense, it was a mostly clean tackle. She caught your ankle, yes, but she had touched the ball first, making it clean. Your ankle crumpled under you, though, and you collapsed to the pitch in crumpled heap with a cry of pain. Alexia stood, looking down at you, horrified, as if only now just realizing the consequences of your actions.

She was shoved out of the way by your teammates, who quickly made their way to your side. She didn't go far, though, looking on, distraught, as your teammates called out for the physios, and you writhed on the ground in agony.

They appeared, asking you questions, and Alexia thought she was going to throw up when they called for a stretcher. How had she done that to you? What was wrong with her?

She stepped closer, hesitantly, trying to get your attention, whether to apologize or beg for forgiveness, she wasn't sure.

"Amor," she asked quietly. Your eyes flew to her above you, and your gaze hardened.

"No, Alexia. Go away." You said through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Lo siento, amor. Lo lamento." she said, backing up and chewing insistently on the side of her cheek. The stretcher arrived, and they got you on it. Every sound you made, every groan of pain, felt like Alexia's heart was being ripped out of her chest. She felt an arm on her shoulder, and turned to find Irene standing behind her.

"Go off, Ale, go with her. We're up anyway." It was true, Spain was winning, and there wasn't much time left. Her departure from the game likely wouldn't cause the team any issues. Still, she shook her head. You were being lifted up, carried off the field now. Alexia wanted to rush forward, wipe the tears off your face, kiss the grimace off your lips.

"No, she doesn't want me right now. I fucked up." Alexia choked out. Irene sighed, not really blaming you. Alexia had been playing like a crazy person today, like she had something to prove.

"Go anyway. You get her to forgive you by proving that you're sorry. So go." Irene insisted, and Alexia paused, before nodding and heading to the sidelines. She was subbed off, and she headed into the tunnel after you. She turned towards England's side, not quite sure how to find you. Luckily, Leah was standing in the hall, talking to a member of the staff. Alexia cleared her throat, and Leah turned towards her, clearly trying to keep her expression neutral.

"Where is she?" Alexia rasped.

"Hospital." Leah responded, voice hard.

Alexia sighed, a few tears escaping against her will. She normally would never, not ever, let an opponent see her cry. When it came to you, though, it was like she had no control over herself. Leah softened slightly at the sight.

"Come on, I'll drive you." The match was in London, and Alexia was glad she didn't have to wait an unknown amount of time to get to you.

"I do not think she wants to see me." Alexia admitted, despite following Leah towards the exit of the building.

Leah rolled her eyes. "All she's wanted for the past week is you, Putellas. And instead of giving her that, you break her ankle."

"What do you mean? She wanted me?" Alexia questioned, confused. You'd seemed okay with the distance she'd imposed on you, telling her you understood that she needed to focus.

They arrived at Leah's car, climbing in, and Leah began driving before she responded.

"She's having a hard time. She has this stupid idea that she needs to be just like Millie, or me, instead of being herself, which is why she was chosen to lead. She's stressed and exhausted, not to mention worried about you and your return. She needed her girlfriend, Putellas. More than anything."

The midfielder felt the last of her strength crumble, and she spent the rest of the car ride silently wiping away the tears that ran down her face. She would fix it, she promised herself. She'd do anything to fix it.

-----

Alexia wasn't at the hospital long. You'd asked Leah not to bring her to your room, and send her back to your apartment with your key instead. Your ankle was broken, it turned out. You were in a boot, on crutches, and miserable, that much Alexia knew. If you were furious with her, or just marginally angry, she didn't know.

She showered quickly, throwing on some of your clothes as she left her bag at the hotel the team was staying at, before settling on the couch, knee bouncing nervously. She wished the apartment was a mess or something, so she could clean it, but it was spotless. She'd already ordered dinner from your favorite restaurant, so she didn't need to cook. Leah texted her when they were downstairs, and she tried to swallow her anxiety as she heard the door open.

You hobbled in, Leah following with your bag. Alexia stood, taking a hesitant step towards you. You didn't even really look at her, crutching by her to sit on the couch. You threw your crutches to the ground, and put your head in your hands, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you. Leah placed your bag down carefully, shooting Alexia a glare, before she kissed the top of your head.

"Call if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," came your response, muffled by your hands.

Alexia moved your crutches to sit against the couch, before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you.

"Amor, I am so so sorry."

"It was a clean tackle Alexia, don't apologize." You reply, voice emotionless. Your girlfriend shifted uncomfortably.

"I am still sorry. And I am sorry I was not available this week. I should have talked to you more."

"It's fine."

"You are not mad at me?" Alexia wondered. At this, you finally lifted your head out of your hands, looking at your girlfriend with bloodshot eyes, and a flushed face.

"I am mad. I just don't have the energy to be angry with you right now. I'm too exhausted, my ankle fucking kills, and I've missed you too much. It's pathetic." You cry, reaching a hand out towards the blonde. She doesn't waste a second, taking your hand in hers and pressing a few kisses into the back of it.

"It is not pathetic, amor. You need me, that is okay. You can yell tomorrow."

"I needed you all week," you say quietly, and her grip on your hand tightens.

"I know, amor, and I should have known that, and been there for you. I am here now, though, and I am not going anywhere. Not until you are better."

You looked at her through long, wet, lashes. "Promise?" you asked, voice cracking on the word.

"I promise, mi amor, I promise." Alexia assured you. You pulled on her hand, and she shifted onto the couch, bringing you into her lap, minding your ankle. You collapsed into her, face finding it's favorite spot nestled against her neck. You were getting her skin wet with tears, but she didn't seem to care. In fact, she seemed content to sit there with you until you felt better, no matter how long that took. You pulled away before you really felt much better, though.

"Where are you going?" Alexia asked with a slight pout.

"My ankle hurts," You admit, watching as her expression falls into one of immense guilt. She eases you off of her, back onto the couch, instructing you to stretch your legs out.

"Can I?" She asks quietly, hands hovering over the straps on the boot. It was a test, you knew, to see how angry with her you were, deep down. If you trusted her to take care of your injury or not.

"Be gentle." You ask quietly, and she sighs in relief, nodding. Alexia begins to unstrap the boot, lifting the front piece off before sliding it down and off your foot. You winced, the slight movement sending waves of pain up your leg that made you feel sick. Alexia dropped the boot onto the ground, watching carefully as you shut your eyes, willing the pain away. When you opened them, you noticed that Alexia was trying to discreetly wipe a tear away.

"Hey, what is it?" You ask, concerned, grabbing her hand before she could leave the room.

Alexia scoffs, but sits back down. "I broke your ankle. You are in pain because of me."

"Alexia, it was a clean tackle. I'm not mad that about it. It could have been anyone. I'm mad that you were playing like you wanted to get a red card, putting yourself and my teammates in danger." You explain.

"You are not mad about the tackle?" She asked incredulously.

"No, that would be stupid, that was practically your one clean tackle of the game. I'd like to talk about why you were playing like that, though." Alexia wasn't one to play super rough, and you knew that it was likely a result of some issue she was having. It was hard for you to get her to tell you what was going on in her head.

Alexia is quiet for a minute, working out her rather complex feelings of guilt at the moment. If you weren't angry about that, should she feel so furious with herself? The way she'd played was a whole other issue.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow? I want... I want to just be with you tonight. Take care of my girl." Alexia asked. You softened at her request, opening your arms, and gesturing for her to move closer. She leaned forward holding tight to you, inhaling your comforting scent. You were with her, and you were okay. That was all that mattered to her.

"Of course, baby." You murmured, kissing her temple lightly.

And take care of you, she did. She brought you dinner once it was delivered, and carried you into the shower, holding you up the entire time whilst you bathed and washed your hair, even though she'd already showered. She helped you into your pajamas, before getting your ankle propped up on a pillow, wrapped in an ice pack while you reclined on the bed. She stood anxiously next to your side of the bed, looking around as if searching for something else to do.

"Love, come get in bed." You told her, and Alexia focused on you.

"You do not need anything else?" She checked.

"Just you, pretty girl." You said sweetly. Alexia felt her cheeks heat up at that, and moved around to the other side to the bed. Before really getting to know Alexia, you would not have thought her to be a shy person. She was, though, shying away from any attention you tried to give her at first. Eventually, she got used to it, but she still felt her face flush with pleasure when you called her things like that.

Alexia climbed into bed, curling up into your side easily. She looked tired up close, almost as tired as you felt, and you leaned down, pressing your lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing. When you pulled away, you couldn't help but notice the way her lips tugged down slightly, as if she was fighting a sad frown.

"What is it Ale?" You asked, running your thumb across her cheek.

"I am just tired. And sorry for hurting you, and ignoring you all week. And stressed about my return and my performance. My brain will not turn off. I am so tired, amor." Alexia said, eyes fluttering closed when your hand cupped her cheek.

"That is a lot of things to be worried about, Ale. I've forgiven you. I'm pretty sure I won't even yell at you tomorrow," Alexia smiles slightly at this. "Push all that out of your head. You're here with me, and everything is going to feel better in the morning. Sleep now, my love."

"Thank you. Te amo." She whispers in response, snuggling in closer to your side.

"I love you." You tell her, letting the feeling of her chest rising and falling against you lull you to sleep.

-----

You're rather unfortunately awoken a few hours later by a gasp, and Alexia stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. You sit bolt upright, confused, watching from the bed as she grips the counter in her hands, breath ragged.

"Alexia?" you call out. You'd get up, but your ankle protests when you try to shift it off the pillow, so you stop moving, waiting for her to answer you. She doesn't acknowledge that you've spoken. She's speaking quietly to herself, eyes squeezed shut, and you strain your ears to hear her.

"Estás bien, estás bien," she repeats, white knuckled grip on the counter looking painful.

"Alexia," you say again, louder this time.

"Okay, amor, I... I am okay," she gasps out. She's having a panic attack, you realize. In all your time with her, you'd never known her to experience this before, and this realization is enough for you to grit your teeth, and try to get to her. You've swung your leg off the bed, biting your lip to keep from crying out, and grabbed for your crutches when she speaks again.

"St-stay there. No te levantes" Alexia says, switching rapidly between english and spanish.

"Come here then, please baby. Before I drag my ankle over there." You plead.

"No puedo," she whimpers, hand coming up to tug at the neck of her shirt, as if it's restricting her breathing. She's not moving anytime soon, and she looks like she's about to pass out if she doesn't get her breathing under control soon.

You curse under your breath, standing up and wobbly moving towards the bathroom. You make it to her, the blood rushing into your ankle once you stand, but you don't really feel it. The adrenaline has taken over, and your only though is helping your girlfriend.

"No-no puedo respirar," she gasps, eyes opening to find you in front of her. "No se que pasa, ayúdame," she pleads, gripping your shirt in her hand.

"Oh, baby," you coo, taking her hand in yours, and pressing it to your chest. "With me, love, you're okay."

She shakes her head frantically, gasping for air at this point.

"No puedo," she says again, before she pulls her hand away from yours, and begins tugging at her shirt again. "Lo necesito apagado, por favor," she cries.

Frustrated with your lack of mobility, and your shaky balance, you discard your crutches, and pull yourself up to sit on the counter. It's not much more comfortable, but you don't have to balance on one foot, and you can't help Alexia with your hands preoccupied with holding your crutches.

You help her pull her shirt over her head, leaving her in just a sports bra. She seems even more frustrated when that doesn't seem to help, and the tears are falling down her face fast, as her mouth flops open and closed as she tries to breath.

"Alexia," you say sternly, grabbing her face in between your hands. Her wild eyes meet yours, and you guide her closer, until she is standing in between your legs. "You're having a panic attack. You need to let yourself breath. Do it with me, okay?" Alexia's eyes are wide and glistening as she allows you to take her hand again, and press it back over your heart. Her breaths are choppy as she tries to match them with yours.

"There you go, Ale, you're doing good," you encourage, as her inhales begin to match yours more. You keep a tight hold on her hand until her breathing is almost normal. But as her hyperventilating ends, more tears replace it. "Alexia," you sigh, pulling her in. You hate seeing her so upset. You'd do anything to take it away, even if just for a minute. Her chin rests on your shoulder as she sniffles occasionally. You rub her back softly, giving her the time she needs to calm down. She jumps back suddenly, though, looking panicked again.

"Your ankle," she says, looking frantically between the swollen limb and your eyes.

"Shh, I'm okay, come back," you tell her, and she moves back into your arms, despite her protests.

"But amor, this is not-" Alexia's voice is weak and choked.

"Don't worry about it Alexia, seriously." You kiss her forehead, then her temple, before guiding her head back onto your shoulder. She relents, body falling almost limp against you. You're both quiet, the only sounds audible being both of your breathing. You bring a hand up to the nape of Alexia's neck, threading your hand through the hair there, and and holding her tightly against you.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there. Long enough for you to feel the pain in your ankle again, dangling off the counter. It was throbbing, hot and painful, under you. You don't want to let Alexia go before she's ready, so you try to bring you leg up, and rest in on the counter. At your movement, though, Alexia pulls away, pursing her lips as she looks at your ankle.

"Ale, it's fine," you try, but she ignores you. She's still unsteady, hands shaking as she grabs your crutches off the ground where she'd dropped them, and handing them to you.

"Bed?" she asks quietly, and you nod. She follows you back to the bed, a slow process, waiting until your sitting down before leaving the room without another word. You call after her, but she doesn't respond. You're just about to get up, and go after her, again, when she returns, ice pack in her still shaking hand. Regardless, she wraps it around your ankle, before climbing back into bed next to you. Her head finds it's place against your chest.

"What happened, love?" you ask. You feel Alexia's shoulder shrug. "No, come on. Talk to me, please."

"I was anxious when I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I could not breath. I think I had a dream, I did my other knee, and they told me I would not play again." The blonde's voice shakes as she speaks.

"That's awful, love." You murmur into her hair.

"I am sorry I woke you, and that you had to help me," she says weakly.

"Don't be. I'm glad I could help," you promise. "Have you ever had a panic attack before?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Alexia, I think you should talk to someone." You suggest, also pretty sure you know what her response will be.

"Maybe," she says noncommittally.

You sigh. "You at least need to talk to me more, Alexia. You can't just shut down when you're having a hard time, you need to let me help."

"I need to talk to you more?" she asks, turning her head to look up at you, voice a little stronger now. "You need to talk to me too then. You were upset all week and I did not know about it." She says it like she's got you. You surprise her, then, when you nod.

"You're right. We both need to talk to each other more. I know it's not easy, but I'm here, whatever you need, whenever you need me. Okay?"

"Te prometo que." Alexia says after a minute, gazing up at you. You can tell she means it. "You promise too?"

"I promise, Alexia."

Neither of you are perfect, or would ever claim to be. You are, however, perfect for each other. Exactly what the other needs. You know you'll get through anything with Ale with you, at your side.

-----

i love angst. that is all. goodnight.

[colourstreakgryffin]

I have a little suggestion 😔 Buuuttttt If you could…. could you write for human Ryuk for death note? You gotta hear me out though

You know what… I’m fine with this. I’ve always had Ryuk as one of my fav Death Note characters so why not? For real, for real… he’s so hot in this form! He went from badass and scary to precious hottie

Ryuk- Master of Trickery

Instead of Light, you’re his human and his notebook holder. Ryuk can’t deny that you’re interesting and he is gonna enjoy following you around through your time using his Death Note. In his Shinigami form, he doesn’t really notice how he looks and just excuses it. Suspecting you’ll be fine with him

But you’re curious what Ryuk really can do so when you two are finally alone in your bedroom. You ask Ryuk openly what powers he has, how Shinigami work and whilst Ryuk isn’t that enthusiastic since he considers it boring, he obliges

When he mentions he can transform into a human disguise, that lets him be visible to humans, besides you, as well. You immediately play with the fire that is Ryuk and ask him if he can demonstrate this shapeshifitng ability of his for you

Ryuk wasn’t planning on this when he dropped his notebook onto Earth… he’s been asked by his new human to transform for them? Well. He does it anyway since he suspects it may be fun to troll people with it so he puts his big clawed hand over your eyes

And in a flash. This monstrous yet unique shinigami is now an attractive tall man with pretty black lips and a style that matched the infamous detective, L. Your eyes sparkle with shock at your Shinigami’s transformation as Ryuk lets out a comment that he hasn’t redone this in such a long time

Ryuk noticed the way you gaze at him with surprise and awe, commenting snarky about it but mainly feeling his bare chested self, his baggy slightly undone trousers hugging his humanoid hips as both of you are impressed by the almost Frankenstein stitched patchy skin pieces on his body. He looks like a human but still… a Shinigami

Ryuk does decide to perform this feat again. Pranking you with it, he’ll transform into his human form then putting on a bunch of makeup, stealing the Death Note and pretend he isn’t Ryuk when you ask him. It’s hard to tell since he put a lot of heart into these types of pranks on you

Ryuk needs his apples, even in his human form, so people around him, who can now see him, find him odd for how much he is downing just normal red apples eagerly whilst you and him are at the grocery store

Ryuk cringes badly whenever anybody makes a mention that you and him must be a couple. He isn’t interested in any humans but damn god, he does enjoy the way you seem attracted to his human form. It’s a nice ego boost

Ryuk mainly transforms into his human form and heads out in public with you during your vile little plans to kill your targets as to stay on the back and do as you ask by not showing off his shinigami side, should you let your victims touch the notebook, but it’s not like he minds. He feels handsome like this

Ryuk also takes full advantage of all the girls who admire him in his human form, liking to annoy you by flirting and playing with humans that are drooling all over him. It’s nice, so entertaining and he won’t let you pull him away from it

Ryuk doesn’t use his human form transformation as much as one would suspect, from a guy like him. Mainly because he is too accustom to his Shinigami self that being human feels odd but it doesn’t mean he won’t do it to make you and other girls flaunter over him, for the fun of it

Ryuk does tease you a lot for finding his human form attractive… like, a lot, he doesn’t ever shut up about it. He’ll make you regret ever asking him to demonstrate his abilities… since well, that’s Ryuk

“Eh? What’s with that look… oh. You like the goods; my skin, my eyes, my hair, ‘mm? You’re just as nasty as those other humans. I enjoy it, keep looking”

[wandanatrules]

Locker Room

Pairing: shy nerdy g!p wanda maximoff x popular cheerleader reader

This is the fic for the request I got literally so long ago I’ll put the request as the summary, I just started winter break so i’m gonna try to write sorry I haven’t posted in forever school has been on my ass

summary: Hiiii, I saw that you were taking requests and I just had to ask, could you do awkward emo!wanda and cheerleader!r where they’re both in high school or college and wanda likes r nd gets all shy and embarrassed around her, so r takes advantage of this and tries to make her as flustered as she can..and wanda

can’t take the teasing one day so she builds up the confidence to ask her out which eventually leads to them having sex in the girls locker room 🤭

warnings: wanda has a penis, oral (w receiving), heavy make out, smut, foul language, there isn’t really that much smut sorry

Even in her sophomore year of college Wanda was still nervous to talk to girls. She wasn’t the most social person, which played a part in it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive enough to get girls, believe me she was.

She had an athletic build and long flowy hair. She ran track in high school and ever since then maintained the abs and the muscles she acquired from that, by joining the soccer team in college. Wanda was the MVP player, which gave her a lot of female admirers. Many of the females at her games, especially the cheerleaders, would make passes at her but she was too oblivious and shy to notice.

Ever since freshman year the only person that Wanda had her eyes on was you. You were on the cheerleading squad, and well known for your looks and popularity. You also liked Wanda, but for some reason she always rejected your advances.

Tonight was the celebration party for the girls soccer team after winning the tournament. The whole team and all the cheerleaders would be there.

Wanda was nervous to go knowing that parties weren’t usually her scene. Even though she was expected to go since she scored the winning goal and led her team to victory.

You and the other cheerleaders were in the locker room getting ready, before you left for the stadium to join the party.

“I’m gonna try to get with Maximoff tonight” you said to your friends while finishing up your makeup.

“Oh, really?” your friend Maria asked, “She’s so nerdy and shy and awkward all the time.”

You smiled and thought back to a couple of days ago when you tried to flirt with her.

Wanda was standing outside of the soccer locker room, right after practice. She was wearing a muscle tee showing off her toned arms and covered in sweat.

“Hey Wans.” You said to her after sauntering over to her, while putting your hand on her arm. “You looked real good during your practice.”

Wanda’s face turned red and she felt herself getting nervous again. “Oh thanks y/n.” she said while nervously playing in her hair, “I was working on my form for the tournament.”

“Yeah, I bet you're gonna win it for us Wanda, and when you do i’ll give you something to celebrate.” You said in her ear with a seductive voice, before walking away with a sway to your hips.

Wanda let out a deep breath after you walked away, cursing herself after feeling her erection hardening.

As you reminisced in the memory of how cute Wanda looked all flustered you couldn’t help but wait for you to get to the party and see her. You just knew that tonight would be the night you would get your hands on her.

It was later that night and Wanda was talking to her friends from the soccer team, while nursing a drink at the party.

“I’m telling you Wanda, she wants you.” Natasha said, trying to convince her to go over and talk to you.

“No I don’t think so, she’s just friendly.” Wanda insisted while looking over at you.

You were at the other side of the party making eye contact with her, while seductively sucking your straw between your teeth. You lifted your hand and waved her over.

Wanda tensed and looked behind her, not believing you were beckoning her.

“She wants you, you idiot.”, Natasha laughed, as she shoved her over to you. “Good luck.” , she called out behind her

Wanda nervously walked over to you, wiping the sweat off of her palms on to her pants.

“Hi Wanda.” You husked looking up at her with your best doe eyes. “Let’s dance.”, you said, putting your drink down and leading her to the dance floor by the hand.

The song had just happened to change from some loud rap music to a slow and sexy RnB song. You used this to your advantage as you wrapped her arms around your waist and began to sway.

Wanda, tensed not knowing where to put her hands, trying to be respectful of her touches. You sensed this nervousness and placed her hands on your butt.

“You know Wanda, literally everyone has hit on me and asked me out except you. I’ve never had to make the first move like this. Do you not think I'm pretty, Wanda?” You said with that sickly sweet voice that drove Wanda crazy and iginitied a stir in her pants.

“Oh, no y/n definitely, i think you're absolutely gorgeous.” Wanda said nervously, careful to not hurt your feelings.

You turned around to face her with a smile, “That’s exactly what I was hoping you would say. You better come with me so I can give you your surprise for winning us the game.

You took her hand and led her through the crowd out of the party, into the locker room. You pushed her against the wall and kissed her roughly, grabbing handfuls of her arm muscles and abs.

“You know Wanda, I love when I talk to you after soccer practice. When you’re all sweaty and your muscles are all pumped. I use that time to tease you and get you all worked up, and secretly watch you sneak back into the locker room to take care of your little problem.”

Wanda’s lips parted when she felt your hand grip her length and slowly rub up and down.

“Damn Wanda you’re so hard.” You whispered in her ear. “You gonna fuck me?”

Wanda stammered too nervous to respond, lost in the pleasure of you rubbing her length.

“Or did you want me to fuck you?” You said with a smirk as you pushed her down onto the bench with a hand on her chest.

“Yes ma’am you can do whatever you want.” Wanda said repeatedly nodding

You slowly pulled down your panties from under your dress and threw them at her before loosening the straps on your shoulders and pulling the dress down.

Wanda put the panties in her pocket before you pulled her belt off and ripped her pants and boxers down.

You gripped her length, roughly stroking it up and down. Loving the way her face contorted in pleasure and over stimulation. You looked up at her with those big round eyes as you slowly sucked the tip between your lips, before going deeper and deeper.

“FUCK y/n” Wanda groaned thrusting her hips up into your mouth as she holds down your head. The muscles in her arms straining she roughly fucks your mouth. You hold onto her chest to brace yourself as you move your mouth faster.

“Damnit fuck that was so good y/n thank you” Wanda said flustered trying to catch her breath

“That’s so cute Wans, you don’t have to thank me.” You said looking up at her with a smile while licking your lips. “But I do know how you can repay me”…

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

"An ideal Sims game would have Sims 2's gameplay mechanics, Sims 3's open world, and Sims 4's graphics!"

I absolutely despise this take, and I want to explain why. This is a very long rant and it is full of piss and vinegar directed at everything in the Sims 4. I'm gonna try to keep everything kinda professional as much as I can but I can't guarantee an unbiased opinion.

If you'll let me talk your ears off for a moment, I'd like to explain, from my own experience as an artist and a casual player, my issues with the art style and direction of The Sims 4 compared to The Sims 2. (I'm not really going to comment on 3 because I've never played it.)

I want to start off by explaining the difference between better graphics and higher resolution. The Sims 4 absolutely blows Sims 2 out of the water when it comes to textures and polygon counts on sims, no contest. But I'd argue that the graphics themselves... aren't better. They're worse, even, so much fucking worse. The biggest problems come from the stylization and the animations, in my opinion, so I'll explain what I mean.

Have you ever felt like the Sims in 4 just look... weird? Not quirky, not kinda strange, but off. Distressing. Uncanny. Whatever the fuck the kids call it nowadays. When you strip away the packs and the CC and the shaders, the sims in the base game look bad. They're very close to being human; they walk like us, talk like us, have families like us, but they don't look like us, not exactly. There's always something off about them, no matter how close you try to get. Proportions will be a bit off, or your eyelashes will be like three polygons for some fucking reason, and the jig is up. The illusion is gone.

This is one of the instances where a higher resolution and more detailed models and meshes work against you. You aren't making believe. You are beyond the point of pretending that the pixelated shapes are real clothes and bodies and faces, because at this point, they're close enough that you don't need to. There's no gap to bridge. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they're lifelike, at least, not enough to be completely human. In some ways, they're still tethered to being cartoony and plasticky and fake. Just enough to frighten you. Enough to put you off. They're not using it to their advantage anymore, and instead, it's holding them back.

When the Sims 2 came out in 2004, the developers knew that they weren't going to make a perfectly accurate life simulator. They physically couldn't render every wrinkle in the face or fold in the clothing. In some animations, things clip strangely or the facial expressions are sort of janky or there's just some form of roughness around the edges. But that's okay; your brain doesn't need a perfectly accurate representation this time. That's not what you're here for, anyway.

The Sims 4 is basically Icarus-ing itself into disaster. The entire game sacrifices style for complete realism, a goal that was unachievable ten years ago, and is unachievable now.

The Sims 2 never thought of itself as a completely realistic life sim, though. It has cartoony, low poly meshes and exaggerated proportions and wild, raunchy storylines that would never occur in real life. BECAUSE IT ISN'T REAL LIFE. And it isn't like real life, not because it's failing to be, but because it doesn't want to be!

The Sims 4 is not ever going to completely replicate human looks or interactions or dynamics. And if it's trying to, it's doing a shit job of it. That shouldn't be the goal in the first place. If I wanted to watch a lonely college student talk to himself in the mirror to try and get better at interacting with people, I'd close the computer and go look at myself. It somehow highlights the most mundane parts of life without any of the whimsy and goofiness that the earlier installments had. It takes itself too fucking seriously for its own good, and it's killing both the gameplay and the art style.

The other point I'd like to bring up is the animation. The Sims 4 allows for much more customization of both sim and environments, but at the cost of dynamic animations. How many times is that grab animation reused? How many times is the same set of animations used for sims with wildly different personalities? Your sims barely feel alive with how little they express themselves.

Now, look, I'm a digital artist. I've dabbled in animation, but only briefly, and only in 2D. I've got no clue how 3D animation works, much less how it worked 20 years ago, but I can see the passion in every single animation in the Sims 2. The more niche interactions allowed for more expressive animations than in 4. They could afford to have a distinct animation for mean sims throwing the football extra hard to be assholes, rather than every sim using the same generic football-throwing animation to save time and money. I get where they're coming from. I get the idea. But in one move, you've both made the art style stiffer and less expressive, and you've made the personalities of the sims seem meaningless. Everyone acts the same, regardless of what their moodlets or their traits say. It's hollow. It's stifled. It's a waste of potential.

But for what Sims 2 lacks in polygons, it makes up for in smaller animated details. Quality over quantity. The sims have hair physics, they open the door before they get in the car, they take utensils out of the counters when they cook, they jump on the couch and the cushions smush under their weight. When they dance, the weight is realistic, and when they smile, it tugs at every one of the few dozen shapes that make up their faces. The sims are lively. They dance and sing and love and hate just like humans, and rather than being some strange attempt at mimicry, it's almost a tribute. They were made with love. You can tell that they were drawn up and rigged and animated by a bunch of people working together, studying each other and making faces in the mirror for reference and watching their kids and neighbors and dogs and hands for reference. The sims are not human, and not trying to be, but they're taking the most human parts of us and making them their own.

You could never have a game with the Sims 4's graphics and the Sims 2's gameplay. The gameplay and graphics are inexorably connected, and the Sims 2 just has so much glorious detail baked into it, that you could never really make it work underneath the limitations of the later games. The developers of 2 knew what their limits were, and they worked tirelessly to make the game as full and complex as they could within those limits. The developers for the Sims 4 just did not have those guidelines, and thus, the drive to bend the rules was no longer there. They didn't go wild in rebellion because they were never told they couldn't in the first place. They spent the entire time chasing a goal they couldn't meet, and lost sight of what made the series fun to begin with.

It wasn't the realism you came for; you had realism already surrounding you. It was the caricature of it that made it interesting.

[avocado-writing]

Ok this request might be a bit specific but can you write headcanons for halsin,astarion ,dammon karlach and lae'zel (feel free to add any other character if you want) when their petite partner comes back from fighting the god of death and suddenly they're towering over them? (It's temporary but they'll take advantage of the fact that they can carry halsin)

This happened to me in my play through, I kept trying to remove items from my inventory because I was slower and it wasn't until I came across halsin in the camp that I was like " hold on... Halsin why are you so tiny???" Then realised

LMAO i have never had this!!! do you change size during the myrkul battle? that's SO funny if so. gonna change the prompt to be a bit less specific, but will still include a size change! under a cut bc nsfw, minors dni

Astarion

your shadow falls over him. he looks up. and up, and up. "oh... darling. you've... grown."

you apologise and tell him that this is only temporary, but he really doesn't seem to mind it all that much.

sits in your lap and likes to feel very small, curling up like a cat. you can practically hear him purr.

when you go to bed that night, if you're intimate, he'll enjoy straddling you and feeling how wide his legs have to splay around your wide hips.

he falls asleep on top of you, like you're his giant pillow. it makes him feel safe and protected.

he's woken up when you're back to your usual size, slapping at him to move off you - he's crushing you!

Halsin

he feels relieved not to be the tall one for once. it's nice for him to look up at you!

"my, when you're this size, i can appreciate all of you so much more... see magnified what nature has blessed you with..."

if you're comfortable with your size he wildshapes into something small so that he can really enjoy how big you are. little cat halsin nestled in your huge shirt <3

pick him up and carry him to bed. he's thrilled.

when you lay together that night he labours over every lovely inch of you, musing in great detail about how wonderful you are, how he enjoys you feeling so large compared to him...

but the next day he is just as happy to have you back to your normal body. no matter how you look, you are perfect.

Karlach

like Halsin, she is so pleased to be the small one for a while.

keeps wanting to compare the size of her hand to yours. they're so big now! amazing!

can't stop giggling when you reach down to kiss her. likes it when you cup her face.

when you have sex, she's thrilled by how small she feels, how you can take control of her a bit physically.

afterwards she just lays there going. "wow. wow. WOW."

lets you know that she wouldn't mind a repeat performance...

Lae'zel

is confused, but you can see her try and hide a smile.

"an interesting development. is this permanent?" "it shouldn't be." "hmm. then we shall explore what it means later."

before you go to bed, she's pleased to have you slightly stronger in order to help her around the camp. you can hold her weapons and stuff for her while she sharpens them lmao

at night you can tell she's thrilled when she dominates you and you're this size. you're both even more exhausted than usual the next day, and she's just smug.

Dammon

you walk into his forge and start knocking stuff over accidentally

probably bang your head too...

he's so surprised and helps you get your bearings, asking what's happened.

you explain you took this elixir and in order to help him more in the forge... but now you're just causing a ruckus.

he smiles sweetly and brings you down for a kiss, reassuring you there's no problem and it was a sweet idea.

probably gets you to sit to the side and keep him company while he works though, he doesn't want you hurting yourself!

and bonus:

Gale

my man loves to be thrown around a bit. prove me wrong.

eyes light up when you walk in.

does a lot of experiments to test your altered strength. you suggest maybe you'd prefer to explore hypotheticals in the bedroom...

you pick him up and carry him, bridal-style, to the bedroom.

pin him against the wall and suck his cock until he's a whimpering mess...

you need a lot of aftercare for him because he becomes easily overstimulated but keeps asking for more. wears his massive love bites with pride the next day <3

[alchemistc]

chisme 1/1

read on ao3

“I still don’t know the guy under the engine, Hank.” “But...you could find out.” “Didn’t you date one of the paramedics on the B shift over there? You were always yapping about how your schedules never lined up.” Thomas’ face goes a little pale. “Yeah, uh... that didn’t work out.” “Yeah, don’t shit where you eat, Henry.” ___ The LAFD likes to gossip. They all take advantage of the fact that Tommy knows their favorite subject to gossip about.

“You see that kid on the news?”

Jones shoots him a raised brow, and Tommy shrugs. “Captain Nash will sort him out.”

“Or he’ll wash out in a month,” Jones singsongs, and Tommy bites back on the defensiveness he feels bubbling up.

They’d been growing towards something, when he left. Even he knows that whatever Bobby Nash was doing was rare. He... misses it, some days.

He’s still getting used to this new crew. They’re... there’s nothing wrong with them, it’s just that Tommy’d been at the 118 for years, and even though he doesn’t look back fondly on most of it, or the person he’d been, that had been home for a long fucking time. He’d made a decision, the moment Bobby slid the LAFD pilot certification paperwork across the desk to him, his last review, that he wasn’t gonna hide himself anymore.

It’s fucking work, being genuine. Honest. Open.

“You got any plans for the night?”

Tommy takes a deep breath through his nose, stretches his shoulders back. Tilts his head a little, tips his chin down so he doesn’t look so fucking tense. “Does trawling the horrific depths of LA Grindr until I fall asleep count?”

Jones goes still. There’s a terrible, horrible moment where every shitty thing Gerrard, his father, his CO’s, his high school buddies ever said washes over him. And then Jones’ face does something strange. Pursed lips, raised brows, scrunched nose, like the surprise is washing over him uncontrollably, and then — “Well shit, Kinard, that’s just depressing. Let me and my man take you out tonight.”

Tommy blows the breath back out, feels the corner of his mouth tilting uncontrollably up, has to roll his tongue over his teeth to keep it from going too wide. That — he hadn’t known that. Everyone here uses ‘partner’ to describe their significant others, he figured it was just some initiative they’d all taken to be inclusive. “As long as you’re not looking for a third. No offense, Jones, you’re not my type.”

Jones smirks. “Who says you’re mine?”

Tommy slaps a hand over his heart, really plays up the hurt expression. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Jones’ eyeroll is a thing of beauty. “You’re too pretty for me, Kinard. And I’m too mean for you. You need a nice boy with a heart of gold to keep you humble.”

Tommy thinks, fleetingly, of the lost little look in that kids blue, blue eyes, camera shoved in his face and the flashing lights of a tilt-a-whirl behind him.

“I’d eat him alive,” Tommy says, and Jones’ laugh follows them both out of the lockers.

---

“What a fucking day,” Gatlin says, laid out across the length of the bench, one arm over his face,

It’s been a series of days, actually, but Tommy doesn’t feel like being pedantic about it.

Tommy just hums, and does his best not to be annoyed about having to juggle his duffle in one hand while he shifts the sad, unused basketball out of his locker to stuff it in the open neck of his bag. They’ve all been through the ringer, Tommy’s gonna give the new guy a moment to regroup.

“Hey, did the 136 ever find their captain? In all the chaos I don’t remember anyone radioing it in.”

Tommy nods an affirmative. He’s so fucking tired from calling out locations of trapped survivors that he’s sure his voice sounds like sandpaper. “Swept up in it like all the rest. Someone on patrol found him pinned under debris. An officer had to saw off his arm, poor bastard.”

Gatlin sits up like he’s rising from the dead. “You’re making shit up. This is a hazing ritual.”

Tommy slides him the most serious face he can manage around the yawn threatening to escape. His phone is blowing up — texts from dozens of people who’d been working the same shit as him, and it’s the first time in a while he’s regretted deleting Facebook. The marked safe function would have saved him about sixty texts so far.

“Heard from Waters that one of the 118’s kids was on the pier when the wave hit,” Gatlin tells him, finally groaning and rising to gather his own shit.

Tommy’s gut drops even as he’s opening up Hen’s contact in his phone, gratefully dumping the duffle onto the bench, now that Gatlin’s legs aren’t taking up the entire thing.

“Kid has CB or something, some lady found him and carried him around for like half a fuckin’ day until she found the old VA popup.”

“Mr. Rogers would have been proud,” Tommy says, and stares at the unsent text he’d typed out with shaky hands. Is Denny okay?

“Huh?”

Jesus, he’s young. “Look for the helpers?” Gatlin blinks at him. “Never mind. Change your clothes. Drink some water. Go the fuck home and get some shut eye, Gatlin.”

“You too, Kinard.”

He deletes the text the moment he’s in his truck, but scrolls back to her contact about twenty times, lying in bed that night, trying to get some sleep.

When he wakes up there’s a text from Hen.

Tommy scrolls up to find a keyboard smash he’d somehow managed to send at 2 in the morning.

Hen 3:27 AM: ???

Hen 3:28 AM: You good?

Hen 3:31 AM: We’re fine. If you were wondering. I assume you fell asleep talking yourself in circles about whether or not to reach out.

Hen 3:42 AM: One of our guys was at the pier with the probies kid. They’re both fine. Tell your crew to stop gossiping so much.

Hen 5:53 AM: Call me if you need anything

Tommy ignores the ache behind his ribcage.

Tommy 7:33 AM: Glad you’re okay. Tell Karen I said hi.

Hen 8:24 AM: Karen and Denny send their love.

---

Tommy’s elbow deep in wiring when Thomas sidles up to the cockpit. He’s got a look on his face that Tommy would normally like to entertain, but there’d been something fiddly with the altimeter his last flight out and he wants to check this before they get called out again — better to ground her until someone can take a real look, if he finds anything, than wave it off ‘til the end of the day.

Thomas shifts closer, tips his head in so he can duck under the open door.

“So, you still know a couple of the guys over at the 118, right?”

Tommy grimaces.

The fact of the matter is, Tommy knows a few guys from all over the city. He’s been around a while, has made many an appearance at the bars first responders like to flock to, has seen enough people come and go from stations to know a guy here and there everywhere. He’s thinking of setting up a pick-up game for whichever LAFD members want to show, maybe seeing if he can wrangle enough people for at least a bi-weekly trivia night.

The breakup with Jason sucked and he’s definitely trying to avoid going home to his empty apartment. Maybe he should get a dog.

“I still don’t know the guy under the engine, Hank.”

“But...you could find out.”

“Didn’t you date one of the paramedics on the B shift over there? You were always yapping about how your schedules never lined up.”

Thomas’ face goes a little pale. “Yeah, uh... that didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, don’t shit where you eat, Henry.”

And now he’s thinking about Jason, again. Christ. Don’t date anyone you meet on calls, Sal had told him, five years in, when everyone still thought his flirting with every hot chick they ran into meant anything other than him desperately trying to cover for the way his eyes were always drawing to the wide stretch of shirts across broad shoulders and the tight fit of a pair of classic 501s.

How he’d managed to convince himself Jason would be the exception is beyond him.

And the guy pinned under the engine had only made things worse, so he’s not particularly in the mood to gossip about him when Jason had used the whole ordeal as an excuse to start a massive fucking fight about the risks of the job for the fifth time in as many months.

“Yeah, I get it, oh wise one. Are you wise enough to figure out why the fuck the guy is suing the department?’

Tommy’s interest is piqued.

God damnit.

It hasn’t even been that long since Chim called him last, Tommy rationalizes as he tips the flashlight in his mouth with his bottom teeth.

“Give me ten minutes to figure out if there’s a short and I’ll make a call.”

---

Tommy’s got one eye on the television and another on the pool table. Brody’s got a pool cue tipped under her chin, and he can already see the chalk shifting onto her skin.

“So, we all agree they’re fucking cursed, right?”

Tommy takes a sip of his beer while a few of the guys make noises of agreement.

“Like, I’m thinking of starting a pool to decide what disaster they’re gonna have a starring role in next. But I don’t want repeats, and at this point I’m not sure how to list them all.”

“Rebar through the brainpan,” Trent says, shaking his head. Tommy feels a flash of guilt for never calling Chim after the initial text he’d sent.

“Plane crash,” lists Jones, eyes still on the reporter being drenched in the downpour as she recites the same tired story about the boy down the well.

“Bath salt werewolves.”

“Earthquake high rise rescue,” Tommy tosses out. He’s still a little annoyed he’d missed that one.

“Unwitting bank heist,” Brody says, phone out and typing furiously. “Oh, do we count ‘targets of teenage Unabomber’ and ‘pinned under a fire engine’ as two separate events?”

“This is getting a little morbid,” Trent says. Still no updates about the guy who’s been buried alive with the kid down the well.

“Armed chicken,” Tommy contributes, hoping to lighten the mood, and grins when they all turn to him with incredulous looks. “Maurice. Knives for feet. He introduced Nash and Grant, technically.”

Brody rolls her eyes. He never should have let her in on his secret love of love stories, she’s such a cynic, she hates when they all gossip about each others love lives.

“This is life or death situations, not dangerous fowl turned rom-com moments. C’mon, what else have we got? I’m including tsunami. Wasn’t your buddy’s girlfriend at dispatch when it got taken hostage? I’m counting it.”

Christ, he really needs to do a better job of keeping in touch.

Tommy’s eyes flit back to the screen. He can see the NASH dashed across the back of one set of turnouts, the end of a name, just ‘LEY” on the set next to his. He’s suddenly not feeling great.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” he tells them, and Jones raises a brow at his half-full beer.

Tommy chugs it and tries to ignore Brody continuing to list things off.

---

Tommy’s getting a little tired of the argument about his job. There’s always a fucking argument, and he’s always somehow the bad guy for being the one saving lives day in and day out.

At least Peter hadn’t lasted long enough for Tommy to really get all that invested.

The house is too quiet, though.

And the dating scene is hell. He’d never —

The whole landscape of dating had been a shit show from the moment he’d decided he was done fucking around with hookups and lies, and it’s only gotten worse. He feels old, and he hates that he’d never let himself try when everything wasn’t app based and fraught with weird expectations.

He shoots off a message to Chim before he heads in to work. He needs a break, maybe. He’s got half an empty drawer and one less toothbrush in his bathroom and there’s an ache, in his bones, for the easy way he’d always been able to let loose with Chim and Hen.

(He’s not sure they even know he came out, and the superficial relationships in his life just keep smacking him right in the face.)

The pileup on the freeway provides a nice distraction, for most of the day, and he tries not to feel too disappointed when the message he sent to Chim goes unanswered.

It’s three days later before he gets a slightly blurry picture back. It’s — it’s a baby, and Tommy is unprepared for the wave of longing that threatens to crush him.

Howie 4:35 AM: I’m a dad!

Howie 4:35 AM: I made that!

Howie 4:36 AM: Sorry, man, I’ll be tied to this pooping, crying creature for the foreseeable future. But we should grab a beer sometime

Tommy 4:45 AM: Congratulations. She’s beautiful. You get out in, what, 18-20?

Brody pokes her head over his shoulder when he pulls up the picture again. “Cute baby.”

“Chim’s,” he tells her, and her expression shifts.

“Wasn’t his brother in the pileup last week?”

Tommy keeps his eye on the picture, wets his tongue against the top of his mouth before he speaks. “He didn’t say.”

---

They’ve all been on edge for days, now. Technically most of them aren’t in much danger, eyes in the skies that they are, but there’s not a single one of them who doesn’t have a friend or two outside of Harbor that wears the uniform.

They’re already two men down. And they’re all going a bit crazy.

So of course, when Tommy lands the bird and steps into the hangar, it’s to find everyone huddled around the TV set up in their little rec area, murmuring to themselves. Tommy runs a hand through his hair and makes his way across to them.

“Is he —?”

The guy’s insane. He’s got a vest and a helmet and no cover at all beyond the metal bars encasing the ladders of the crane tower. He’s surrounded on three sides by high rises, with wide windows and balconies just ripe for someone to set up an easy fucking shot.

The news crew pans to the witnesses on the ground, and there’s 118’s engine.

“Didn’t his partner just get shot? What is the 118 even doing out there?”

Someone hums. There’s a line of tension in every single set of shoulders huddled around the TV, watching, waiting. If Tommy was a praying man, he’d send something up to the big guy. Too bad they don’t believe in each other.

He’s still climbing. Three points of contact always, Tommy thinks, watching, holding his fucking breath the higher he climbs.

The camera cuts away once he’s out on the arm.

“Did anyone see who it was?” Remy asks, and they all shake their heads, but Tommy’s got a mental list from his sparse contact with Chim. Diaz is in the hospital. Bobby’s on the ground. This is Buckley, the kid he’d missed meeting by the skin of his teeth, when Bobby fast tracked his transfer.

In another life, under a different set of circumstances, the idiot making himself a target for a psycho would have been Tommy.

Tommy watches with bated breath until they switch back to the desk, both anchors looking a little wide-eyed as they report that the guy on the crane has been successfully freed from the cable that had had his arm pinned, and both him and the firefighter are fine. On the ground. Out of danger.

For now.

---

“Pay up, dickheads. Prison riot officially made it on the list.”

Tommy shakes his head, amused more than anything else. He pulls a five from his wallet, and Brody stares at it.

“It was twenty. A piece.”

“This is a gesture of goodwill, Youngs. You never paid me for the mudslide.”

“We worked the mudslide, it doesn’t count.”

“Oh now you’re creating arbitrary rules after the fact? Give me my five back.”

---

Brent smiles with his whole body, and kisses Tommy like he’s proving a point, and he doesn’t care that Tommy’s job is dangerous. The problem is that Tommy would like him a little more if he wasn’t so obsessed with the job.

“He worked out of your old house, didn’t he?” Brent asks, legs up on Tommy’s coffee table and a gleam in his eyes as Taylor Kelly reports on some Angel of Death wannabe who’s been shuffled from station to station, city to city, state to state for years with no real oversight, and Tommy — Tommy is tired of talking about work.

He hums, and takes a drink. Brent’s a Heineken man, and for some reason takes real offense to Tommy’s inability to drink them without making faces. Tommy stopped drinking them a month ago.

He’s not sure what he’s doing, anymore.

“Isn’t Taylor Kelly dating one of the guys from the 118?”

Tommy hums again.

“Feels like a quick turnaround on that news story. You think she’s getting an inside scoop?”

“I think we should break up,” Tommy says, and Brent blinks once, twice.

“Yeah. Probably for the best.”

Brent sees himself out. Tommy throws out the lone bottle of Heineken left in his fridge.

---

Donato is a breath of fresh air. She’s brash, and kind of an asshole, and dead set on proving herself a better pool player than he is.

She’s also a newer source of information for the gossip mongers of Harbor station.

“No, that’s the same guy,” she’s saying, biting her lip as she tries to beat Jones’ high score in Asteroids. She’s got a choking grip on the joystick and Tommy can already tell she’s gonna miss it by a mile.

“I — sorry, the guy who got pinned is the same guy who climbed the tower before the sniper was in custody?”

“Same guy. Also the same guy who hopped into that Speed style runaway truck with me. He’s kind of a badass. I mean, they sort of treat him like the station dalmation, over there, but that’s because if you rub behind his ears he wags his tail.”

“He’s not the same one Bosko accidentally got into Fight Club, is he?”

Lucy laughs. “Uh, no, Buck is absolutely a lover, not a fighter.”

“So which one —?”

“Probably the one I was filling in for.”

“The one who got shot, you mean.”

Lucy hums.

None of them have brought up Greenway, which Lucy seems to be marginally grateful for, but Tommy knows she’d worked with him. He hasn’t worked out why she’d worked with him — he’s pretty sure she’d been on the same rotation as Chim and Hen.

Tommy doesn’t feel like touching that with a ten foot pole, if he’s being honest. “So how are Chim and Hen?”

Lucy looks a little cagey. She curses up a storm when she collides with a pixelated flying saucer. “They’re — chugging along.”

“Oh, there’s a story there,” says Lemming, and Lucy shoots Tommy a look between her lashes, something fierce and vulnerable that tells him she’d throw down to protect the open wounds of the 118, same as him. He tips his chin, raises his bottle.

“Boring story,” Lucy says, eyes gleaming. “I bet you’ve got plenty of more interesting stories, Lemming. Weren’t you the one who had to rescue the UFO guy?”

Lemming is easily distracted, and happy to toot his own horn.

Tommy thinks of text sitting unsent on the blank conversation history with Chim.

---

“That wasn’t on the list,” Tommy says, trying for levity and failing miserably. His throat feels tight, and there’s an ache somewhere in his torso that feels like it’s spreading.

“Man, any time you think things are gonna stop happening to that house, they gotta go do something to prove you wrong.”

Tommy’s phone buzzes against his hip. It’s Lucy.

Donato 6:30 AM: Hen says he was down for three minutes.

Tommy 6:31 AM: He good?

Donato 6:33 AM: Inconclusive. He’s got a pulse, but he’s not breathing on his own.

Tommy 6:37 AM: You good?

Donato 6:55 AM: I worked with them for five minutes, Kinard

Donato 6:57 AM: Buck’s a good guy, though. I know you’re not a praying man, but maybe we could all send some good vibes the 118’s way

Tommy 7:01 AM: Jones’ is doing his mindfulness shit in a few. We’ll all be thinking of them.

Tommy hasn’t prayed since he was seventeen, but when Young ducks his head a few minutes later, eyes closed like he does every time they get news of one of their own going down, Tommy lets his own mind drift to his old house, and the people there who’d made him brave enough to live an actual life. Jones’ little meditation practice turns the hanger quiet, and Tommy listens to them all breathe, and breathe, and breathe.

He tries not to think too hard on it when they get the news, days later, that Buckley’s expected to make a full recovery.

---

Tommy’s been eyeing the guy at the bar through his lashes for the past fifteen minutes, and he knows Donato has clocked it. But there’s something — there’s something that keeps drawing his attention.

He’s — objectively attractive. Tall, broad shouldered, jeans that fit nice. Full pink lips and a flirty smile aimed at the woman he’s with.

Tommy’s always refused to bring dates to a ladder bar, even when his crew gives him shit for it. Mostly it’s because the conversation always eventually turns to all the crazy shit they’ve all pulled, all the risky maneuvers, all the scars. It’s always a pissing contest, and Tommy’s been burned a few too many times by guys who like the look of him, and not the reality of his career.

Tommy loses sight of Lucy for half a second only to find her approaching the couple as they move from the foosball table to the bartop.

He shakes his head. She’s spent weeks trying to squirrel information out of him about his love life, which is distinctly lacking at the moment. He doesn’t expect that to change any time soon.

Maybe he’ll hit up Brian once he’s had a few more beers. See if he’s seeing anyone. See if he’s still as flexible as Tommy remembers.

She doesn’t linger when Thomas calls her back for her turn, but by the smirk on her face she’s managed to put her foot in it exactly how she meant to. The couple are closing out, the guys head tilted to stare at his tab, color high on his cheeks. Tommy takes a deep pull off his drink and rolls his jaw when Lucy sinks three in a row, and then the eight ball too.

He gets a full thirty second reprieve before she’s sidling in to the seat beside him, a knowing look on her face.

“Look, I get it,” she starts, and Tommy takes another drink as Young starts a to rerack. “When the bar light hits just right on those broad ass shoulders, you really can’t help but wanna see if his lips taste as sweet as they look.”

Tommy knows his expression is long suffering.

“They are, just in case you were wondering.”

“Donato,” he warns, and she grins, playing with the pool cue with her free hand.

“Got it, Kinard. Backing off. But you know, I’ve got a cousin...”

“Not interested,” he tells her, already swinging out of his seat to break for his round.

He barely even notices he couple leaving. He breaks clean, a few stripes finding their way into pockets, and doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the way the guys flustered laugh sounds as he guides his date out the door.

---

Donato still looks a little shell-shocked.

“They — uh — they’re all good?”

“They’re all pretty banged up. But yeah, from what I heard, they all made it out.”

“Cap — Captain Nash. They found him?”

“Pinned at the bottom of the rubble, but he got lucky. No serious injuries.”

Lucy slumps. She looks exhausted, minutes out from crashing. Tommy’s flown away from enough disasters moments before they get worse to know exactly how she’s feeling.

“Go change, Donato. I’ll drive you home.”

“I’m fine,” she argues, and Tommy’s gaze catches hers. Holds.

“Yeah, okay, fine. I’m gonna cry all over your nice leather seats, though.”

He doesn’t point out that they’ve seen his tears plenty, but from the look in her eyes he figures she kind of knows, anyway.

She’s quiet, for most of the drive. It’s a longer one than he’s used to, and the detour caused by the bridge collapse makes it longer.

“I don’t know what it is about them that makes me feel like I’m losing a limb every time one of those stupid assholes gets hurt. They’re a magnet for disaster, you think I’d be used to it. I didn’t even work with them that long.”

They’re still ten minutes out. Tommy had thought she’d passed out with her face plastered to the passenger window.

“You miss it?”

“Do you?” she asks, defensiveness creeping in to her voice.

Tommy flips his indicator as the light goes red in the turn lane. “I missed the bulk of the Bobby Nash Experience. Mostly I’m just bitterly resentful that I never got to experience the turnaround of my old house.”

He can feel her eyes sliding to him, the curious stare. “Is this what it takes for Tommy Kinard Honesty Hour? I witness something traumatic and you finally open up a little?”

Tommy shrugs, thumb tapping along to the sound of his blinker. “I’m old school, Donato. Usually you gotta save my life for a glimpse up here.” He taps to fingers to his temple.

She takes that in in silence. There’s always been a kinship there, between them, some part of Tommy that sees a lot of himself in the way Lucy conducts herself, the brash way she pushes past the rough days, the spark in her eyes when she’s seconds away from doing something ill-advised.

“Chim’s getting married,” she says into the silence, and Tommy hums. “I’m pretending not to be upset I didn’t get an invite.”

She’s the only one who gets being jealous of that tight-knit little group of psychos.

“So yours got lost in the mail too, huh?”

“Been a long time since I’ve been close to anyone there. I didn’t expect one.”

Lucy tips her head back against the headrest. Sighs. “Yeah. I guess eventually I’ll get there too.”

---

Jones levels him with an incredulous look.

“They should fire your ass.”

Tommy raises both hands in supplication, but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face as Diaz and Buckley both round the side of the chopper, both of them looking like they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It’d been an uphill battle, trying to figure out the logistics of who was going where, after the fact. Chim and Hen had gotten stuck in the back of buses to the hospital.

Diaz and Buckley had ro-sham-bo’ed for shotgun to get back to Diaz’ truck, and Tommy had spent the short flight back from the rescue ship trying not to notice the pouty tilt of Evan’s lip from the back, or pay attention to the back and forth over the headset as Diaz reminded him he’d already had his chance.

There’s a thrum, under Tommy’s skin — the thrill of being reckless is fading, a little, but beneath that there’s a possibility opening wide — Eddie Diaz in the seat beside him pumping him for information on his army days, Evan Buckley shifting restlessly at his side as he comes to stand beside him, arms crossed and staring at Jones like he’s about to go guard dog mode.

All this time he’s been getting second-hand gossip about these people, listening to the wild and sometimes exaggerated rumors that follow them around the LAFD. This time he got to play a part, and neither one of these virtual strangers seems keen to let the moment pass.

Evan’s shoulder glances off of Tommy’s, and he fights the urge to dart his gaze to the side, to check out his profile, to see how ridiculous he looks when those puppy-dog eyes get defensive.

Eddie claps a hand to his shoulder on the other side. “They should give you medal,” he says, pointedly aiming the comment in Jones’ direction, and Jones huffs, eyes rolling.

“Get the hell out of my hangar before I find a reason to be anything other than jealous.”

Tommy laughs, cheeks aching as he waves his passengers out through the open bay door to guide them back to the spot he’d had them hide their truck.

---

Tommy rolls up to the court and watches as some ten-odd firefighters clam up completely.

Well, shit.

This is the first time he’s ever been on the other side of this.

Price is the first one to break. “You’re not bringing anyone from the 118 this time, are you? Seriously, Kinard, one was already pushing it, you’re tempting fate. I don’t want to catch the curse.”

Tommy rolls his eyes good naturedly, doesn’t mention that if the curse were contagious he’d be neck deep in it by now.

“Tommy’s the one we need to be worried about, Price. He’s lucky he wasn’t collateral damage in that lovers quarrel, last time.”

It’s been two weeks.

Tommy has to remind himself. It’s been two weeks. Since he’d gone to make it clear he had no intention of stepping into whatever shit was between Eddie and Evan, to make it clear that he planned to keep spending time with Eddie but he’d never meant to get between them. Two weeks since he’d taken a leap, hedged his bets, kissed a beautiful boy in the orange light of his kitchen.

Less than a week since he’d taken a sip of a terrible coffee concoction and leapt right back into the chaos.

“Are we playing, or do you all want to crack open a bottle of red back at my place and play at being Dan Humphrey?”

Tommy dribbles the ball, raises an eyebrow, watches them all shift guilty looks between themselves as they grumble and move to stand.

---

Lucy spins the metal chair across from him, settles with a leg over each side, arms crossed over the back of it, shit eating grin on her face.

“So. I heard a rumor.”

Tommy’s not sure what his face does. He’s hoping for disinterested, but more likely than not his lips are twitching bashfully.

“The nurses at PIH are incredibly easy to pump for intel,” she continues, and Tommy can feel his ears burning. Donato’s grin goes wide. “I can’t believe you didn’t get me a last minuet invite, too.”

Tommy recovers in time to avoid the full-body blush. “Well, the next time you No Homo me in front of a mutual friend and make up for it with a grand gesture, I’ll think about it.”

Lucy tilts her head. Her grin goes soft, eyes taking him in. “Shit, Kinard, you like him. Damn it. I can’t tease you about that.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

The expression goes mischievous again. “He really didn’t even wipe the soot off his face before he hard launched you?”

Tommy ducks his head, failing miserably at hiding the grin on his face.

[asillylittleistik]

do you have any headcanons for alpha karlach with omega tav? or fic ideas? I love her so much🤭

KARLACH MY BELOVEDDDDD

I have so many thoughts on this, I love Karlach so much

Also, you didn't specify if you wanted this to be SFW or not, so I'm gonna play it safe and keep it mostly clean, but if you ever want an NSFW fic or some headcanons, just send in a new request and I can write some for sure

Alpha Karlach With Omega Reader

Okay can I just say that you will never in your life be with someone who is both as lovingly gentle and violently protective as Karlach

I have a headcanon that, since Karlach was sent to Avernus at a fairly young age, and hasn't been out for very long at all, that you are her first relationship

She's heard all the horror stories from you and some other omegas about creepy alphas who only care about hooking up, and will take any opportunity or push any boundary to get what they want

And being one of those creepy alphas is the last thing Karlach wants

So she is so gentle with you, almost as if you were made of porcelain

She's so subservient to your every need that someone who didn't know better might assume you're the alpha

But she just cares about your well-being so much

On the other hand, though, she is extremely cautious that none of those creepy alphas get anywhere near you

If she sees someone checking you out, flirting a little bit, or god forbid trying to take you out anywhere, she's at your side in an instant

She usually doesn't even need to say much, her appearance alone is intimidating enough

A tall, muscular, pissed-off tiefling, covered in battle scars, carrying a great axe on her back, and literally on fire is usually enough to scare creeps off

But for those that don't get the hint, she isn't afraid to get her hands a little dirty

And then she's immediately at your side again, cupping your face and asking if you're okay as if she doesn't have blood dripping off her knuckles

She just cares so much that you never feel objectified or pressured by anyone, especially her

When your first heat comes, she, respectfully, tries to stay as far away as possible

She doesn't want to take advantage of you in such a delicate state

It's not until one day, after a long day of adventuring, she comes back absolutely DEVASTATED to find her stuffed bear, Clive, is nowhere to be seen

It isn't until she makes her way over to your tent that she sees you've made a little nest in there of all the bedrolls and pillows you all have pillaged in your journey

And then she sees you, bare naked, dripping with sweat, and hugging onto Clive like it was your lifeline

And when her eyes meet yours, all you can say is "he smells like you."

You know she can't leave after that.

For a little while, there's this torturous little game you and Karlach have to play

You want to be around her, but just being in the same tent isn't enough. You want to touch her and feel her body all around yours

But Karlach on a normal day is too hot to touch, and horny Karlach? Yeah, she's nearly set the tent on fire a few times now

She makes peace with it, with not being able to touch you, as terrible as it is for both of you

But you guys find a few... workarounds...

But oh man, the day that Dammon fixes Karlach's engine

No amount of pulling the blankets over their ears could help anyone keep the noise out

It isn't until day 3 that Shadowheart finally gets fed up and casts a silence spell over your tent

But Karlach can't help it, it's what an entire life of not even being near an omega does to her

At the end of your heats, when your brains are a little less foggy, she's back to giving you everything you could ever need

Water? Food? Maybe a small healing spell to helping your aching body? She is an aftercare goddess

That's all she cares about, anyway. In her mind, her pleasure is always second to yours

After the tough hand you've been dealt in life, her one goal is to make you feel special and taken care of

And, for someone as new to being in a relationship as Karlach is, she's doing a pretty damn good job at it

[alicanta77]

NCT Dream Reaction: You sitting in their lap

Mark:

this boy gets stressed

like properly stressed

he needs you often after a long day at work

and that comes in the form of cuddles

just place yourself on top of his and hold him tight

extra points if you play with his hair

you’ll probably hear some happy grumbles from him he purrs like a cat

as he feels like all the weight he carries around is completely lifted

and the relaxation suddenly takes over his being

another of his favourite times for this

is if you visit him at practice

just settle yourself in his lap during a break

and mark will curl up into you

relishing his short break

before you know it he suddenly has more energy to finish his practice

motivated by spending time with you once he’s done

you better have more cuddles ready for later

Renjun:

he likes hugs and moments like this

but probably not for a prolonged time

he’d rather you cuddled into his side if you were going to stay in that position

even with that being said

every now and then he will just wordlessly reach over and pull your onto his lap

just needs comfort

and that means he needs you as close as you could possibly be

so squeeze him tight

and definitely loves it if you pair it with a kiss on his forehead

one of the positions where he will just dissolve his “tough guy” act

and let you take care of him and baby him as much as you like

you could squish his cheeks together and kiss the pout that forms and he’d love it

something about this just makes him all mushy

Jeno:

definitely one of the ones who likes this the most

happens most often when he’s gaming

he really loves it when he’s gaming and you just come in and sit on him

that way he can cuddle you as well as play his game

like both of his favourites ways to relax at the same time

video games and you

you’ve accepted his love for games by now

in the habit of placing soft kisses on your temple in between levels/rounds

likes how protective it makes him feel about you

you just curl up into him as he holds you close

though jeno would never admit it

he adores moments like that

feelings as though you trust him enough to fall asleep on him

leaving it to him to care for you

he would do it willingly for the rest of his life

Donghyuck:

if you sit on his lap he will not be letting go part 1

this makes him so smug

like LOOK AT MY BABY THEY’VE CHOSEN ME THEY LOVE ME

10000000% will wrap his arms around you and bury his face into you and swing you from side to side

honestly you think he’s gonna accidentally throw you off him

but he never does

and whenever you bring it up he always says the same thing

“i would never let you go”

like jeno

loves when you sit on his lap when he’s gaming

it stops him from raging out if he loses or dies so that’s a plus

as are the unlimited kissed and cuddles he gets to give you

and by god he takes advantage of that

peppering kisses all over your face in between levels and stopping just as suddenly

but when he’s done gaming he’ll just sit there cuddling you

you’ve fallen asleep like this many times before

Jaemin:

if you sit on his lap he will not be letting go part 2

sit on his lap and you’re stuck there until he says so

and no you are not allowed to disagree or complain

and if you try you better be prepared cause you will get hit with the BIGGEST puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen this boy produce

jaemin needs physical contact of some kind at all times

preferably he would be completely stuck to you but that’s not possible

so he adores the moments when he can be close to you

so having you sit in his lap allows him to wrap his arms around you and pull you into him

it doesn’t matter if you’re facing him or facing away from him

he just wants you sat in his lap so that he can hold you

will probably make sure all the other seats around you have something or someone on them

just so he can say:

“don’t worry y/n you can sit here”

and pull you onto his lap with a smile and kiss

Chenle:

this would probably be very playful between the two of you

like he’ll pull you onto his lap and tickle your sides

he just loves to hear the genuine laughter that it pulls out of you

like the snorts and voice breaks kind of laughter

and he loves that he’s the reason for that

or he’ll pull you in then nuzzle into your neck

moving his nose around and holding you tight so you can’t escape

once again to hear your laughter

chenle is very fond of affection but he rarely takes it serious

he fully believes that laughter is the best medicine

so all his cuddles will result in you laughing in some way or another

whether that’s through corny jokes or tickles he will make you laugh

it’s through these giggles though that you’ll catch him whisper his affections of “i love you”

and it makes the moment even more perfect

Jisung:

he would prefer it if this only happened in private

mostly because you both know you would be subjected to an enormous amount of teasing if it happened around the boys

but he loves cuddles like this

he’ll be sat on the edge of the bed and just pull you onto him

wants you to be facing him so that he can look at your face as well

wrap your legs around him as well and he will just melt

i mean this boy will become putty in your hands

he also tends to completely lose track of time

i mean he could probably live like this if it was possible

correction

he would give literally anything for moments like this to last forever

while he can struggle with physical affection at times

this comes so easily to him

it’s almost become second nature to reach for you and pull you close to him

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS Zayne: Toy Panda (18+)

So I just bought pain relieving cream and two braces because I have managed to literally kill my wrists by writing all this smut. It's so worth it. This is just smut and fluff guys. Also really bad jokes. Like really bad. Those are my favorite.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Unsafe Sex, Panda Outfits, Fluff, Horrible Jokes, Fingering, Penis in vagina sex Pairing: Zayne x Reader Synopsis: You had beaten Zayne as kitty cards and, as a prize, got him in the viral panda outfit. The only issue is he wants to take it off, and you want to help him in those efforts. Word Count: 4.5k

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Toy Panda

You stared at the door, waiting patiently. Your panda overalls felt huge and a little warm; you played with the sleeves as you waited patiently for your favorite doctor. You were relaxed on his couch, your arms going over the edge as you stared. Any minute now and you could get to see the fruits of your labor finally paying off.

Your silent wishes were answered as you heard the click of the door opening, Zayne slowly coming out of his bedroom. A large panda outfit hung off him, the overalls being ridiculously big even on his hulking form. He didn’t bother with the hood as he adjusted his glasses. You could see the start of a blush on his cheeks as he was looking anywhere but at you.

“Oh my god you’re adorable for once!” You said, jumping off the couch to go run over to him. He really did look like a giant panda plushie and you wanted to just curl your arms around him and never let go. Zayne, however, seemed less amused by the situation as he looked over at you finally, seeing your eyes lighting up at his gaze.

The man let out a long, exasperated sigh, “Well, does this satisfy the conditions to your win?” He said, opening his arms a bit so you could see. When he looked at you this time he seemed almost amused with how giddy you were. You knew the man was a pushover when it came to concerns about you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh no, you lost fair and square at kitty cards the other day. You’re gonna be stuck like this for a bit, Doctor Panda.” You joked, your hand going over to his fluffy overalls as you played with the soft fabric. 

“If I’m not mistaken you were the one who wanted to trade cards about three times during our round, which led to your victory.” He said and you huffed, crossing your arms.

“It’s not my fault you let me.” You had simply used an advantage you called ‘Zayne loves you way too much and will let you cheat at cards, even if it's against him’. It was a viable strategy when playing kitty cards.

“If this is supposed to be a punishment, then why are you wearing the outfit as well?” He asked, noticing how soft you looked at the moment. You pulled the hood up, tilting your head back and forth in a little shimmy shake.

“It’s cute and comfy, obviously. Besides, we never get to match!” You exclaimed as though you were stating the most obvious thing in the world. He looked somewhat amused at your declaration, his hand reaching out to pat the top of your head.

“You do look rather cute like this.” He said, leaning down to be eye level with you. You chuckle, hands going to cup his cheeks and give them a small pinch in response.

“We both look cute like this, mister.” You said, pressing a kiss on his nose, “Absolutely adorable. The cutest.” You claimed, pressing a kiss to his forehead this time, “I wouldn’t mind if you wore this every day, my dear panda.”

Your hands slipped from his cheeks as he began standing up straight, “Well as fun as this is, I think I’d rather get changed now.” Oh no he didn’t.

Your hands found themselves in the thick plush of the overalls, tugging at him so he couldn’t get too far away, “You can’t change yet, you haven’t been in it long enough. Just showing up wearing it isn’t enough.” You whined out, giving the clothes another tug to show your displeasure. 

Zayne looked down, his hands cupping your own, his body looming over you as he leaned forward, “You never stated the duration that I’d be in these.” He pointed out. Your lip jutted out in a mock pout as you tightened your grip on him.

“You need to wear them until I’m satisfied.” You declared.

“And when will that be? In an hour? Or perhaps in the morning?” His voice was coming out almost mocking. He had a point though, if he agreed to that then he might be in these well into the afternoon of tomorrow. It was something he would never agree to since he was a logical man at the end of the day.

“Okay fine…then how about a kiss? If you can satisfy me with a kiss then you can get changed.” You finally settled on, knowing those terms were more than acceptable.

“Just a kiss?” He seemed skeptical.

“A good kiss that leaves me in a puddle by the end.” You clarified, knowing he might tease you and give you a soft peck, then call it a day. He let out a small sigh, but the faint upturn of his lips gave away his emotions.

Zayne placed a hand on your chin, tilting your head up while the other hand was planted firmly on your hip. He leaned in, his lips pressing against your own. Your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He leaned down a bit to help you out, dragging you closer until your body was flush against his own. You felt his teeth nip gently at your lip and you happily sighed into the kiss, opening up enough for him to explore your mouth. He tasted like the mint ice cream you two had grabbed before heading back to his apartment earlier.

You let out a small moan as the hand on your hip gently rubbed at you; a shiver ran down the length of your spine. He finally parted from your lips, a small string of saliva that connected you two snapping. You looked up at him with your eyes half lidded, biting your lower lip. You always wanted more when it came to this man. Just one kiss, no matter how good it was, had never been enough.

“Are you satisfied now?” He whispered, his nose bumping against your own. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, then your eyes darted away.

“We might need to try again, just so I can be sure…” You murmured, looking back up at him. His eyes were already darkening from lust and you knew just a bit more would lead you to his room.

“Now, now, aren’t you being a bit greedy?” Zayne asked, raising his eyebrow in question. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he clearly thought you were cute with the small pout on your lips. The glint in his eye was unmistakable, or at least it was to you at this point in your relationship.

Still, despite his teasing, he leaned his head back in and captured your lips once more. The hand on your chin slowly moved down to hold the other side of your waist as your body melded into his. Even through the thick fabrics you could still feel the slight warmth radiating off his body.

This kiss had been sweeter as Zayne took his time to savor the taste of your lips on his. It was serene how he made you feel so safe in his arms. The hands that were around his shoulders went to play with the soft, black hair. Zayne hummed into the kiss, appreciating the small gesture as your hands combed through them leisurely.

After a few moments, he finally parted from you again, although this time he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead, then to your cheeks, and finally on your nose. A giggle bubbled in your chest, escaping in an airy laugh. You looked up at him, a dopey grin spreading on your face.

“Now that you seem satisfied, I think I’ll go change into something more comfortable.” He said, making you remember exactly what you had been doing previously.

“Changing without me? You’re not gonna let me help?” You playfully jeered, your hands slowly coming down until they rested on Zayne’s broad chest. His own hands once again went to cup yours, bringing them both to his mouth as he gently kissed your knuckles.

“I think I’m fully capable of taking off my own clothes.” He said finally, your face falling for a moment at his statement. Despite your need for the man, you wouldn’t press him into anything. You gave a small smile and nodded.

“Alright, if you insist that you don’t need my help, I guess I can let you strip by yourself.” You said with a shrug and he let out a long breath, staring at you for a moment as though trying to decide what he wanted to do.

He seemed to finally settle on something when he spoke, “Although it would be a shame if we were no longer matching, now wouldn’t it?” 

“We would still be matching if we were both naked.” You didn’t miss a beat.

He nodded his head as though that actually made sense. He always had that ability to play along with you as though you were spitting facts, despite the nonsense you often spewed. It made you feel…important.

You let out a small squeak of surprise as he cupped your ass, lifting you up. Your legs went to lock around his waist as he began carrying you to his bedroom, “I wouldn’t mind matching you in such a way, as long as you find it agreeable.” He finally settled on as he opened the bedroom door.

“Zayne, if I ever say no to that kind of question, just assume someone kidnapped me and replaced me with a doppelganger.” You said in an overly serious tone. Zayne exhaled through his nose in an attempt at laughing, because lord forbid he ever have a proper belly laugh once in a while.

Still you didn’t fight the fit of giggles, your stomach feeling like a million butterflies were fluttering around with your love for the man. You cupped his cheeks once more, placing feather light kisses all over his face as he carried you over to the bed. You felt more than you saw when he smiled, your lips kissing the corners of his mouth until you pecked them.

The comfortable mattress sank as he set you down gently, the bed creaked slightly under your weight. You decided to be nice and let go of his face, though you wished you wore lipstick as his face would’ve been absolutely littered in marks. Something to save for another day.

“Looking at you like this, I might mistake you for a plushie.” He said, noticing how your hood was still up. You were kicking your feet, smiling at him with a happy glint in your eyes that always seemed to put Zayne in a good mood.

“If I’m a plushie then will you promise to hold me tight and never let go?” You settled on, your tone was anything but seductive. A small blush was blooming on your cheeks with the way he looked down at you.

“I never had any intentions of letting you go in the first place.” His words seemed so final that your breath got caught in your throat.

 Zayne began working off his clothes, easily shucking off the overalls and ripping the hoodie off in one quick motion. Normally he was more careful with how he treated clothes when taking them off, but you noted how he seemingly didn’t care about this particular outfit. Strange.

Once Zayne was left in nothing but his underwear; your tongue poking out as you licked your lips,  “Damn panda daddy, I forgot how much you were hiding under all that fur.”

Zayne paused, looking over at you and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. It only fueled your amusement, snickering at the expression he made at you. He was always exasperated from your antics, but seeing the hope leaving him never ceased to make you giddy. It was just too beautiful to see the Doctor Zayne get caught off guard.

He didn’t even say anything in response, only changing where he looked when you made grabby hands, “You need to help your plushie.” You cooed happily.

Zayne walked over to you, unclipping the overalls and they fell around your hips. You were beaming the entire time as he made you raise your hips so he could fully pull it off you. You were left in the panda hoodie and your underwear when he placed both hands on either side of your thighs.

“You realize you are not some toy, correct?” He asked, finally lightening up with a smile of his own. You felt the need to crush it once more.

“I mean…I wouldn’t mind if I were your little fuck toy, Doctor Zayne.” You purred.

You watched Zayne’s eyes widen for a moment before he looked away. He took a moment to recover before looking back at you. “A study I read claims that shame can play an important role in social interactions, perhaps one day you should try it.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let me become so comfortable in your presence then. It’s your fault I have no issue voicing my desires anymore.” You joked, although it did hold truth. Zayne had been very persistent in making sure you were clear with what you wanted from him so he wouldn’t have to second guess everything. You felt like you could tell him literally anything in your head at this point. 

Zayne watched as you began lifting up the hoodie, ready to take it off and toss it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor, when his hands stopped you. He leaned down, whispering right in your ear, “Come now, a toy shouldn’t try to do things by themselves.”

You felt a small gasp escape your lips, your cheeks turning scarlet at his words. You had only been half joking about the fuck toy situation, but if he wanted to use your body for his own pleasure, you’d never stop him. You could feel your already wet underwear getting soaked as you squeezed your thighs together.  A shiver went down your spine as you went to lay your hand on his chest.

He moved closer to press a kiss to your face before backing up just enough to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your panties. He began pulling them off, satisfied with the string of arousal that was very hard to miss. He threw them over to the pile then took a finger to run through your soaked folds.

Your breath hitched as his thick finger entered your cunt, pressing into your soft heat. You went to roll your hips into his touch, but he was quick to push your upper body down onto the bed. His large hands pushed your hoodie up just enough to expose the underside of your breasts. His eyes glazed over them for a moment before he put his free hand over your stomach, holding you down so you wouldn’t move.

“A good toy doesn’t try to squirm.” Zayne pointed out, making you huff as you tried holding still. Your hands went above your head as you grasped at the fluffy blankets underneath you, trying to do your best to obey him for the time being.

As a reward, he entered another finger into you as he began scissoring the digits to help open you up for the main event later. The lewd squelching sound of your pussy made you flush, your thighs twitching as your instinct was to close them. Still, with the slight curl of his finger hitting your sweet spot had you almost rolling your eyes back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, Zayne, can I move?” You asked, wanting to ride his fingers. He was so good at riling you up, getting you close to coming on his fingers alone.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to be a toy, did you not?” He asked and you whimpered in response, “Good toys just lay there.” Oh he was going to be the death of you. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and you almost regretted putting the offer on the table.

“I’m a new interactive toy.” You finally settled on, hoping he would play along with you.

“And when did toy companies begin producing such bratty models?” His fingers were now pistoning faster in your tight heat, making sure every thrust hit your sweet spot head on.

“Around the time they realized their user base had b-brat tamers.” You managed to say between a strangled moan.

You cried out as his thumb pressed harshly over your clit, “Then perhaps I just need to train this toy so they’re more well behaved.” his thumb rolled in circles over your clit and you were now biting your lip. A familiar warmth settled in your stomach, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice.

“G-good luck.” You chuckled, trying to roll your hips but his hand made it impossible. It was clear that you were going to cum on his terms.

You were so close to becoming a whimpering mess, begging him when he pressed down on your clit again. That was enough for you to topple over the edge, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. Your pulse was thrumming, the blood rushing all over your body and you could hear a faint ringing as Zayne worked you through your climax.

His motions got softer as you came back down to earth, staring over at his face with a fucked out gaze. He wore that smirk that never ceased to make you go crazy.

“What a good toy.” Zayne commented almost like an afterthought. You watched him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking off your release. You groaned, wanting him to properly fuck you already.

“Will you fuck me now?” You whispered, your voice soft from how relaxed and pliant your entire body felt right now.

“Since my little panda was so obedient, I guess I can give them a reward.” Zayne said as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to you. Your hands immediately found their way to his hair, wanting to tug him closer as his tongue laced with your own. The taste of your own climax was still fresh on him and you couldn’t help the low whine coming from your throat.

His lips left yours, but he was still close enough so when he spoke they grazed against you, “Do you promise to behave?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said with a soft cry, wanting to feel his cock splitting you open already.

You watched him stand up, taking off his underwear. His erection stood proudly against his abs, the tip leaking pre and dripping down the shaft. You licked your lips in response, your mind already supplying you with several fantasies of what you want to do with his length

Zayne came over, lifting you up enough for him to slide a pillow under your hips to help you get comfortable. “Are you ready, my little panda?” He teased. You smiled bashfully, nodding your head as he opened up your legs, your glistening folds inviting the man to take whatever he wanted from you.

His cock slowly began sinking into your heat, careful not to go too fast or else he risked hurting you. Still, you were impatient and had to hold back your complaints as he continued driving his dick deeper into your pussy.

After a few short thrusts, his cock was almost completely in you. You felt the stinging stretch of his monstrous length as it filled you up to the point of almost breaking. You took a few sharp breaths, relaxing around his girth. You went to roll your hips once you had grown accustomed to him, but his hand pressed down on your stomach again to stop you.

“I thought you said you’d behave?” He said and you whined in response, glancing up at him. He had a concentrated look on his face, trying not to cum just from entering you. He always tried to coax an orgasm out of you, but sometimes the way you sucked him in made him want to burst in an instant.

“I will…” You finally say and he nodded, giving an experimental roll of his hips. You let out a breathy gasp, enjoying how his girth managed to hit every single spot in you without trying. It was like he was made for you.

He chuckled, repeating the motion before speaking, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a panda make a noise like this.” 

You weren’t thinking when you spoke, already cock drunk. “You’re fucking other pandas?” It wasn’t until the words left you that you had to take a second and think over your inner dialogue options.

Zayne didn’t move and you chanced to look at him, seeing him shaking his head. “It’s not too late for me to pull out and go to bed, is it?” He murmured and you let out a cry at his words.

You locked your ankles around his back, hooking him into place inside of you. Your hands trailing over his biceps as you gave them a small squeeze,  “Noooooo, don’t leave me like this. I’m sorry, I said it without thinking.”

Zayne let out a heavy, almost burdened sigh, “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.” Despite his words, he did grind back into you, making you mewl in delight. The small giggle that was stuck in your throat turned into pants as he began rocking his hips to a steady tempo.

“Zayne…” You managed to rasp out. He hummed, letting you know he could hear you, “You’re holding back still.” You knew he wasn’t fully inside of you judging by how his hips never met your own.

“I simply don’t want to break my new toy, is that so wrong?” He grunted, never letting up the gentle pace he had set.

“It’s fine if you break me; you’re a doctor after all. You can put me back together.” You said.

“Doesn’t this little panda work tomorrow?” He said, hips stopping as he looked down at you, wanting you to confirm his suspicions.

“I’ll be fine…please?” You begged him, pouting as you looked at your loving boyfriend. He pondered for a moment if he’d regret his decision, then shook his head.

“If that’s what you wish.” He finally said. You were about to celebrate when a surprised squeal came out of your mouth. He had taken your legs that were locked behind him, pressing them so they laid against your chest. He had you in the perfect mating press as he looked down at you with hungry eyes.

His hips rutted into your tight hole, getting deeper with every rock until you could feel the head pressing against your cervix. You opened your mouth in a garbled whine, closing your eyes as you took in the feeling. You were already so damn close just from his dick being fully settled inside of you.

Then he set a brutal pace, jackhammering his cock into your cunt like a man running out of time. The noises escaping you couldn’t be distinguished, his name a slur on your lips as stars began entering your vision. It was just too damn good, your entire body spasming with twitches as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You squeezed his arms, your nails digging into the flesh to help ground yourself. It didn’t help much as he helped you reach new peaks, his dick being the only thing on your mind as your eyes rolled back.

The delicious friction of his pelvis against your swollen bud was what set you off. Your body clenched around him as heat spread under your skin. The ringing in your ears came back ten fold and your vision blurred into white. Your entire body spasming with your release as your hoarse voice called his name like a prayer.

You could faintly hear Zayne’s voice over the ringing, “So good, doing such a good job for me, my angel.” He groaned, pressing open mouth kisses along the column of your neck. You were slowly coming back down when you felt his length leaving you.

Your eyes looked over, watching as Zayne’s hand engulfed his length, gliding over the shaft before his milky release began splattering on your stomach and right over your overstimulated pussy. You were trembling still as you felt the liquid hitting your overheated skin.

Once he was spent, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours, looking you in the eyes, “How are you?” His voice was like silk, gently pulling you back down to him. His clean hand moved some hair that had gotten into your face as he pressed a kiss to your nose, waiting patiently.

“Never been better.” You said, still in a bit of a daze.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked, noticing how your aching legs began falling to his sides. You hummed in thought, a hand going to cup his cheek and you smiled.

“Not at all.” You said with a small laugh. Zayne smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before going to stand.

“I’ll be right back, you wait right here.” He said, looking you over once more before leaving the room. 

He didn’t leave you for long, soon coming back in, this time with underwear on. He held a glass of water in one hand, and a warm, wet towel in the other. He approached you on the bedside, setting the glass down and moving in with the towel to clean up your combined spend.

You winced as the towel went to clean your folds and Zayne glanced up at you, “I did warn you about this outcome.” He scolded and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s worth it…it’s always worth it.” You fought back, not ever giving in that you might’ve made a slight miscalculation. How you’d be able to run around at work tomorrow was a mystery. You debated calling out, after all it was insanely easy for you to get a doctor’s note to explain your absence.

“You’re insatiable.” he said, finishing up between your legs. He handed you a glass of water, eyeing you as you took a small sip. Once you realized it was perfectly chilled you let the water run down your throat, enjoying how soothing it felt. You didn’t realize how scratched your throat had gotten until that moment.

Once you finished you handed him back the cup, “Thank you very much, Doctor Panda.” You teased.

“Doctor Panda?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, sir.”

“Remind me to be more careful to not lose a bet with you.” He said as he went to lay in the bed, pulling you along with him. Your head rested on his chest as you looked up at him.

“I dunno, my ideas do tend to lead to fun outcomes.” You pointed out.

“I assure you, all you need to do is ask and you shall receive.” He informed you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“I’ll remember that for future reference…I love you, Zayne.” You said, letting the sap take over after your passionate tryst.

“Love you too, my little panda.”

[toxicanonymity]

Collect calls. jailbird pt. 2 of 3

3600, cellmate's nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

brilliant edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. custom tats!

SUMMARY: You kinda try to be careful over the phone, but you want each other too bad. So it's hard. Rock hard. Joel sends you a short letter and comes to visit again. Follows Jailbird, but this is 69% dirty talk (I did the math). You can prob read alone. PT 3 of 3 is Parole. WARNINGS: I8+ SO HORNY, hella dirty talk from both, phone sex, mild degradation/teasing, tension, masturbation, Joel is a slut and mentions getting blown, creative mail. Barely edited horny chaos but I wanna feed ya and this ain't fine dining. A/N: Part 2 of 3. Thank you for the love on Jailbird! And THANK YOU @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the amazing edit omg. Make sure you see the Jojo gif 🥵 His specific tattoos and all 😍 joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs. PART 3 HERE.

When you got back from visitation, your cellmate Mabel's face lit up.  She was excited to hear about it, but when she looked you over, she said, “Oh boy, it’s worse than I thought. . . I’m gonna go play spades, honey. You do what ya need to do.” 

You shook your head, “Mabel. . .”

“Take your time,” she said with a wink. "Not that you'll need it." Then she stood up and stretched before leaving the cell.  

You got in your bed, on your side, under the blanket. You clenched your thighs together looking at the picture of a slightly younger him with not nearly as much silver in his beard. You put your pillow between your legs, rolled over so you were mostly stomach-down, and your hips moved as you put your head in the crook of your arm and recalled the way he looked at you, his strong hands, his tattoos. His voice. You wondered what it sounded like when it wasn’t through a telephone, but god damn, it did something to you. “ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” Fuck. 

You were already getting close, wouldn’t even need to use your hand at this rate. You thought about the way his arm flexed as his hand moved in his lap. Oh God, the bulge and outline in his jeans when he stood up. The way he adjusted himself.  He might be too big for you to take all of him, but god damn, you'd give it your best shot. You rubbed yourself against your pillow to the rhythm of his hand rubbing his lap in your mind, clenched your thighs again and you came, whining "Jojo" into your elbow. You heard it too many times a day to get it out of your head – He told you to call him Joel, but Mabel made it somewhat difficult. 

---

He was hot as fuck, but it was also cute how close he and Mabel were. It made him seem like a good guy, even though neither of them were particularly upstanding members of society.  You supposed neither were you by most standards, but it’s not like any of you had ever intentionally hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That you knew of.  The fact that Jojo served time was hot and also put you at ease. It had to have been a while based on the spiderweb, unless he was just trying to look hard, but he didn’t seem the type to bullshit anything. How did you even know what type he was though? You hardly knew  him? You dreaded Mabel’s teasing but you could withstand it in order to find out more.

You got off once more while you were at it, taking advantage of the privacy.  Then you sat up, rested against the wall, and just looked at the picture. Unfolded, you looked at both of them. It was so sweet. He looked happy. His hand on her shoulder had the spade tattoo.  Your eyes fell on your own poke-and-stick clover from Mabel and your stomach fluttered when you saw the flared stem and circular leaves. It might as well have been a Club.  “Mabel,” you muttered and shook your head.  

While she was still playing Spades, you went over to her bed to look at the other photos up close. In another picture, they were at a barbecue in a parking lot. Joel was on the left and Mabel was on the right. Joel was wearing a wifebeater and Mabel was wearing a black t-shirt with a carousel pony on the right pocket.  

You hadn’t noticed before, but there were a few women in swimsuits and aprons in the background. One of them was looking at Jojo. Who wouldn’t? Mabel’s words echoed in your mind — of course he’d like you. You’ve got a cunt and  you’re not bad lookin'. you rolled your eyes. Shit. You resolved to put yourself in pro mode and try to detach. 

—--

Over the next week, you spoke with him several times on the phone. You tried to be careful. You wren’t sure if all calls were reviewed or it was just by sample. You figured it would be suspicious to ask. You hoped whoever listened didn’t mind some harmless horny talk.  The only stuff they should really care about should be scheming. Like making moves and putting out hits from the inside. Or smuggling from the outside. 

—---

He answered the phone, “There she is.”  A vaguely endearing greeting since you and Mabel called from the same collect number. 

“Hey handsome,” you responded. 

“I was just thinkin’ about ya, jailbird.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he said deeply then sighed. “Ya just missed it.” Good God, his voice.

“Missed–”

“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty head. How bout I’ll wait for ya tomorrow?” 

Your heart skipped a beat.  “Yeah.”

“Just call at the same time.” 

“Okay,” you agreed with a smile in your voice. “It was nice to see you the other day. . .” 

“Oh, baby you got no idea,” he groaned. “I’m comin’ back next week.” 

“Are they gonna let you back?” you giggled.

“They’ve gotta! I didn’t do nothin’.”

“You didn’t. . .you’re right. . .” 

“Hey don’t give’em any ideas.”

"Right," you laughed. 

"What are ya gonna do when ya get out?"

“In general? Try to find honest work, I guess.” 

“Nothin’ dishonest ‘bout what you were doin’. But I hear ya, parole’s a bitch.” 

“You on parole?”

“Nah, long time ago though.” 

‘Yeah?”

“Kept my nose clean the whole damn time.  Ended up back in the can anyway.” 

"For what"

"Framed for fuckin' murder."

"What??"

"Relax, I was exonerated." 

"No shit."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You ever danced?"

"Course I fuckin' danced"

"Where at?"

"In memphis."

"Oh, I dunno jack shit about that scene."

"Wasn't great."

"Guess that's where you uh, got your start though."

"Yeah."

"Well do what ya want but lemme know if ya need a gig."

'Thanks." 

He sighed. "I know it sucks not gettin' any in there. "

"Yeah."

"Are ya? Gettin' any? Girls, guards?"

"No," you answered, looking over your shoulder. "Think I could tell ya if I was, though?"

"Shit, sorry." 

"You gettin' any?" 

"Oh I'm a straight up ho." 

"Yeah?" You asked, intrigued.  "Surprised I hadn't seen ya at the clinic," you teased. 

"Cause I'm way the fuck 'cross town. Got our own clinic." 

"Good for you." A pleasant surprise that he stayed clean. 

"Yeah, on a first name basis. Make my girls go, too. Still wrap it most the time though." 

"Your girls."

"Dancers."

"Right." Mabel had mentioned he worked at a club. "Well, at least one of us is gettin' some."

"Shit, I was gettin' some sugar the other night," he said. "Pretty little head between my legs 'n I was lookin' at your picture."

Your heart fluttered. "No shit," you laughed. "My picture, huh?"

"Ohh, you don't even know. I want it bad, sugar, and I ain’t even tasted it." 

"Yeah?" 

"Shit I prolly think about it as much as you do . . .and I've got a life." 

"Who says I think about it?" You asked flirtatiously.

"I got ESP. Makes me tingle when ya do."

"Oh does it?"

"Ya think about me in the shower, in bed. . ." 

You laughed. "And where do you think about me?"

"Fuckin' everywhere. I've gotta have ya, baby. So bad it hurts." 

—----------

Whenever you came back to your cell after talking to Jojo, Mabel would leave to make a phone call or go to the common area to watch whatever outdated movie was playing in the common area. Often with a wink. She knew he got you all wound up. 

—----------

You called him at the same time the next day. 

"How's your week been," you asked. 

"Hard," he said, then his voice became hornier.  "So fuckin' hard. . . n' that's all you." You could hear his belt and zipper. 

"Wish I could help."

“i'm sure ya can once you're out. If you wanna hang out sometime.” You heard a bottle click open then squirt. 

You teasingly hummed as though thinking it over. "Mmmm. . . .I dunno, what would you wanna do?”

“I can pick ya up right from the slammer, ‘less ya got someone else.”

“I don’t.”

“Great, then we can just. . . i dunno, get to know each other,” he mused, then added at a lower pitch, “In the back seat of my whip. Stop off somewhere close.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “You don’t understand, baby. I’ve gotta see what’s under that garb.” His hand was sliding up and down his lubed up cock. “I’ve gotta feel it.” 

Butterflies swarmed in your chest and you sighed.

“What were ya wearin’ when ya got picked up?”

“Well. . . you already know what I’m in for. . .”

"Damn right I do, and you're gonna find out."

You laughed – at visitation, he said you were in for it. . 

"C’mon, jailbird. What were ya wearin.”

“A black microskirt"

"Mmm."

"Black mesh crop top"

"Yeahhh"

"Over a pink bra.”

“Ohhh, fuck,” he sighed. “Shoes?”

“Shit, I’m not–hmm." You tried not to overthink it. "Definitely platforms. Silver and clear, I think."

He gave a low whistle. "Sounds hot as shit." 

“And fishnets. Shit, that's all I had,” you laughed. "Maybe you can bring me something else." 

“God damn, that’s what I get to pick ya up in?”

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on the fishnets.”

“Commando in that skirt? Shit, that’s even better.” His breath grew heavier. "Fuck it, just sit on me while I drive," he murmured. "Yeah, fuckin' sit on *this* the whole drive–ugghh." As if avoiding the word cock would make this conversation passable.

You sighed and tried to hide your arousal from the Corrections Officer (CO) standing 8 ft away. 

"Can't get it in ya soon enough, baby." 

"Mmm," you said quietly. "Can't wait."

"Jailbird, you're fuckin killin' me." He moaned. "Hot as hell. . . fuck."

"You sure I can take it?"

"Fuck, I dunno, baby," he panted. "It's a lot."

"I could tell"

"Uugggghhh," He groaned and you heard his hand sliding faster on his dick. "And what'd ya think about that ?"

"Oh, I’m up for the challenge,” you cooed saucily. "Just get me nice 'n ready."

"You ready right now?"

"The second I heard your voice."

"Fuck, I gotta know what ya taste like"

"Mmm."

"Yeah," he panted.,"And when you're nice and ready, then what?"

You lowered your voice to a near whisper. "Oh, just fuckin' wreck me. Split me open, baby." All you could do was clench your thighs together.

"Ohhh god"

"Don't hold back"

"Ohh fuck–couldnt if I tried." He sighed.

You had lost all restraint and just prayed whoever reviewed this call would be cool.  

"Just stuff me full of it," you whispered. 

"Fuck, yeah."

"Stretch me out." 

"Ohh yeah." 

"Pound me so hard i can’t see straight."

"Shit." He moaned and his hand moved faster. 

"And then? Fill me the fuck up. I wanna feel it." 

"Fuck yeah," he panted "i'll be seepin' outta ya for days."

"Then you better fill me up again." 

"Jesus, fuck–ohhh." 

"Don't tell me you'd spill it this fast."

"Oh fuck you," he laughed in good humor. "I'm not spillin' shit." You could still hear his hand. 

"Not even if I'm sittin' on ya while ya drive?"

"Not even." 

"Not with one hand on the wheel and one on my tit?"

"Ohh fuck," he breathes.  "No, no. . ."

"And I'm moanin' your name with every bump in the road?"

"Mmmm, fuck, baby."

"Oh ya like that?" 

"Fuckin'--fuck–fuckin' love it."

"Wouldya mind slidin' that hand down between my legs?" 

"Wherever ya want it, baby."

"Ugh, those big hands," you whispered. "I just know you can use'em."

"Fuckin' right I can," he panted.  

"Hope ya don't finish while you're drivin' with me in your lap."

"All ya gotta do is sit still."

"Imagine the mess if you came." 

"Fuck, baby," he sighed.

"Every time we hit a bump, more would spill out in  your lap.”

“Ohh, fuck."  Then a long, drawn out moan like he was coming. You were throbbing wildly. 

"Knew ya were close," you laughed. Then you heard a heavy smack on his end of the line. Then there was nothing but breathing for a minute, then it sounded like he was writing. 

"What are you doing now?"

"Addressing an envelope."

"You're not mailing me your–"

"No I'm not mailin' you my" he laughed,  "Load."

"Just a letter?

"Yeah. . . Just a letter." 

"Mmkay. . . How 'bout a picture?"

His tone was warm and flattered. "Oh I can throw in a pic. But it's not gonna be the kind ya *really* want."

"Booo," you pouted.

'Think you'll like it anyway."

"Yeah, I can fill in the rest." 

Your time was up. 

—-------

You went back to your cell and sighed as you sat down on your bed. Mabel started to leave but you said, "no, you're good." You'd rub one out later. You wanted to ask Mabel if he really liked you, but you wouldn't let yourself be vulnerable like that. You were still trying to detach.  

"You're right, he's cool," you said. 

 "You like him, don't ya? He likes you, too.”  

She reached under her mattress into the fitted sheet and got out her poke and stick supplies. “C’mere, let's just get it over with,” she said. 

“What, uh, what do you wanna give me?”

"J. . . O. . ." 

Your whole upper body heated up and you laughed under your breath, "Mabel." She was mostly kidding. 

—-----------

Visitation day came and you weren't nervous, just excited. He was wearing a too-small, black softwash t-shirt, black jeans, and a chain.

“Be good,” the guard warned Joel as you picked up the phone on your side. 

"Yes, officer,” Joel replied with a respectful nod, then sat down. You noticed his rings as he picked up his phone. “We gotta be good,” he said with a wink.  

“So be good,” you told him vacantly as your eyes roamed his tattoos. 

He stared at you for a few seconds, hungrily taking in the mundane sight of you in your garb. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. 

“How’d ya get hotter? Chicks don’t get hotter in lock-up, much less in a week.” 

“What, and men do? It’s in your head.”

“Well yeah, we work out like mad.” 

“Guess you’ve got me there.” 

“Not talkin’ 'bout your body. It’s bangin’, but, I mean–no makeup and you’re pretty as hell.” 

You smiled and shrugged, "thanks," then whispered, "but I think you're just horny," with a wink.  He returned the shrug. 

A few seconds of silence passed as he checked you out. You salivated over his arms stretching his shirt. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Whatcha thinkin about?”

“I’m thinkin’ ya look like a slutty bouncer. . .You get this shit at Spirit Halloween?”

Joel chuckled. “Well . . . you know what *I’m* thinkin’ about.” His eyes glued to your chest. 

Yeah, yeah, he’s gotta see what’s under that garb. “Yeah, you’ll see it, honey," you said. 

It was a struggle knowing what to say–you wanted to “be good” and not get cut short, but you also wanted to indulge in your fantasies. 

Joel asked, “Where ya wanna go when ya get out?”

“Anywhere. Got some place in mind?”

“Could take ya to my place. Mabel taught me a mean pot roast recipe.” 

You smiled. “You’re makin' me hungry.”

“Oh I’m starvin’, baby.”

"Long drive?"

He exhaled with a puff of his cheeks. "It’ll feel long that day."

“I’m sure it will,” you purred, looking down as if you could see through the booth right to his cock. You wet your lips. “So what’s between here and home?”

He took a deep breath, thought for a second, and told you what highway it was. 

“Oh, okay,” you nodded. “There’s a seven eleven right outside the gate here. 

“There sure is," Joel nodded. "Clean bathrooms too. I checked on my way.”

“You did not.” 

“I’m tellin’ ya," he nodded. "Stopped for gas. First thing I thought about. Swear I think about it as much as you do.” 

“So what’s in the bathroom?”

“Steel handicap railing about hip height”

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued.

“Pretty sturdy to hold onto, or even sit on.” He looked over his shoulder “Like if someone needed a rest or whatever.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Right," you said softly as you nodded. 

"Diaper changin' thingy, too."

You scrunched your face up. 

"Like if ya needed to bend over it and stretch your back.” 

"Ah," you nodded. "Nah."

“Parking lot?”

“That close to here, it’s gotta be crawling with pigs.” 

“Right,” he said in a trance, looking at your mouth. 

“Alright, where else is there," you asked. 

"Rest stop. They got picnic tables near the woods if ya need to, uh," he looked down, "Sit down," he said quieter, "n' take a rest." 

"Oh, I won't want a rest." You slowly shook your head and your eyes lingered on his chain. 

He groaned softly and rested his chin in his hand. He whispered, "You're killin' me here." He scratched his beard and you tingled at the sight of the silver patches, his pinky ring, his hand tattoos–the faded barbed wire.  You sighed. 

"You bein' good?" He asked. 

"Yeah." You resigned yourself to harmless small talk for a few minutes, but it was obvious what you both were thinking about.  There were long silences where you just stared at each other.  

“Just a few more weeks and I’m yours,” you teased. 

His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows. “You serious?”

Oh, shit - you didn’t wanna scare him off.  Really didn’t even mean it like that, but, you also didn’t mind the thought of him as a boyfriend. 

You nodded and teased, “yours to do what you please.”

He blew out a puff of air. "God damn, baby. I don't think you know what’s comin’ your way.”

“Can’t wait to find out, though.”

“Oh, you’re gonna find out.”  He dug his hand into his lap but didn’t move it. “Shit.”

“Sorry.”

“Never be sorry.”

The guard barked,”Hands where I can see’em,” and Joel obediently raised his hand and put both elbows on the table again. 

"You ain't gonna want no one else again." 

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness which actually turned you on. 

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he cautioned. 

"Okay," you shrugged with a contemplative frown. 

"Shit, I might be in the same boat." He swallowed and looked like he meant it. Like maybe you were doing something to him that hadn't been done.

"Get my letter yet?" Joel asked. 

"No." 

He smirked, then it faded as he checked you out for the hundredth time. He shook his head, sat back, and took a deep breath.  "This is fuckin' torture." 

"Then it's a good thing I waited til now to ask about ya." 

"the best torture," he clarified, his forehead beginning to glisten. "I'm gonna fuckin explode when I'm back in my ride."  He looked at the unopened box of tissues on his side of the booth, intended for crying visitors. "Thank God I didn't ride the hog." Fuck, he had a motorcycle, too? He held the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he opened the plastic on the box and tried to get the tissues started. Then he took three tissues out.  Your breath hitched at the thought of his cum. Was it silky? Stringy? Watery? Sticky? What'd it taste like? Ugh. 

"HANDS," the guard said when he saw Joel finish pocketing the tissues. The guard stepped forward. "Say goodbye, let's go."

"Fuck." Joel sighed and closed his eyes. "Sorry, jailbird." 

When he stood up, you could see the outline of his hard dick on his thigh. You took a deep breath and pried your eyes off his crotch to briefly meet his eyes. He winked and you managed a small smile before eyes fell right back to his jeans as he adjusted himself. Fuck. 

—---------------

Joel’s letter came a couple days later. A photo fell out of it. Black and white. He was sitting in a chair and smoking with one hand holding the cigarette up and his other hand resting between his legs.  Arms blazing in a white t-shirt. Squinting at the camera. He looked hot as hell despite having all his clothes on. He looked like a model. 

The letter was on plain white printer paper, and the letter was short:��

Be good, jailbird. I'll take ya anywhere. 

Sweet, and also sexy. God, you wanted him to take you. 

You flattened out the letter and admired his poor but legible handwriting. Not as bad as some you'd seen. His handwriting was hot.  It was cute that he didn't use any special stationary.  He was a simple man. And God, what a man. You ran your fingers over the words,  and they caught on a different texture.  Something on the paper.  You smelled it and it wasn't cum. It was, like, lotion or Vaseline. 

Wait. You held it up, and your breath hitched. 

You looked behind you to make sure no one was watching, then you stood up, got closer to the light, and held it at an angle. Holy shit. It was his dick print, diagonal across the paper.  A bolt of desire shot through your body.  It was transparent but the different texture was visible. You could see the head, then most of the shaft. It was detailed, there was texture. Even a couple of veins. 

You sat on your bed, leaning against the wall with your knees up.  You rested the paper against your knees at an angle with the tip pointed between your legs.  You just wanted to get a sense of the size–and boy did you–but the sight of it, God. Just the silhouette of it lined up right there made you feral. You needed it so bad.  Needed him.  Who the hell mails a dick print? Fuckin’ Jojo, he was gonna be the death of you.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your engagement really keeps me going, I love y'all.

This AU is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes. But I played myself because he's actually hot and I want him?

Notes

The slapping sound after he came was him letting his cock slap onto the paper.

There are a lot of correctional facilities where they wouldn't get away with all this so you gotta suspend disbelief.

The strip club will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past.

-----

I hear tags aren't working for some people. Please consider following @toxicfics and subscribing to notifications. Must have tumblr push notifications enabled on your phone.

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