#but ain't no god damn trust here

[midnightwind]

oh funny passive aggressive text from my mother while she's in fucking Africa, thought they didn't have phone data for this

[toxicanonymity]

needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel masterlist | miniseries masterlist

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prologue), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6).

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .  

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous.  He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it.  He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable. 

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you.  Of course it would.

-

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too.  He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun. 

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you. 

“Can I see it?” you ask. 

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?” 

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate.  “Can ya gimme a second, honey?” 

“Okay.”  He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away.  “Now?”

“No.  Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make. 

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it ain't how ya wanna see it.” 

“Why?" 

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer. 

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.” 

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.” 

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”  

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs. 

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions. 

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly.  Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad.  If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop. 

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway. 

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like.  Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit. 

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft. 

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach.  You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste. 

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily. 

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips.  He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch. 

Then, your lips wrap around the head.  He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”  

 You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more. 

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating. 

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs. 

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees.  In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel. 

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum.  It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.” 

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your mouth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” 

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop. 

“Good girl,” he sighs and  cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need.  You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it.  You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief.  He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on.  But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it.  “Good girl, that’s real good,  honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away.  Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body.  He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep. 

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself. 

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.  

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change. 

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself. 

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair. 

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all." 

"I know." 

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all. 

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs. 

"You want a hand?"  

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass.  "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?" 

You're quiet. 

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.” 

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit. 

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.” 

“Okay.”  You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down. 

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats. 

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact.  He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah," 

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs." 

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit. 

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper. 

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.  

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip. 

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.”  You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him.  “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you. 

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.” 

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say. 

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that. 

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper.  You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good. 

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time. 

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes.  His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”  

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty. 

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer.  He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.”  You turn around and face him.  “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath.  He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.”  He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod.  He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

-----

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. my joel masterlist has 🍒 on virginity loss fics. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

-----

for fic notifications, please follow @toxicfics, subscribe to notifications, and make sure your tumblr app settings allow push notifications. ⚠️ some of my fics are pretty dark.

-----

[n30n-l1ghts]

Tokyo revengers basic NSFW headcannons pt. 2

Characters- Taiju, Inui, Koko, Ran, Rindou, Sanzu, Izana, Shinichiro, Wakasa, Benkei, Takeomi

Read the first part here

Proofread by my lovely partner @nxll-n4m3

Taiju-

Chat I think we know. I think we KNOW this man has a MONSTER cock chat. Ain't nobody arguing that. He's 6'5" and built like a fucking 18 wheeler, yeah no question he's hung. 8.7. and I KNOW that's unethical. Trust me, he knows it too. And he'd be more cocky about it if it didn't dissuade almost everyone from even attempting to take that. I feel like he wouldn't have much, if any experience. I can see him sleeping around a teensy bit to relieve stress and then getting really guilty about it. But then again, he's a very pious man, so I can also absolutely see him saving himself for marriage (though he might cheat a teensy bit with oral or mutual masturbation) speaking of which, this man is SO guilty about falling for a guy. You're gonna have to deal with the world's most internalized homophobe ever. Religious trauma is a hell of a thing. A swift topic change, grooming. I don't see him caring much, but he will tidy it up a bit if you want him to. All while very loudly grumble curses under his breath of course. Long, thick, black and surprisingly not all that curly.

Seishu-

He gives me the vibe of someone who can be surprisingly subby if he trusts you enough. But he'd need to REALLY trust you to be that vulnerable in your presence. He's absolutely a switch and I don't think he actually has much of a preference, apart from the fact that he's more top and dom leaning the less he knows you. Then again, he has to trust you a fair amount to get into bed with you anyways, this boy does not sleep around even a little. Actually he hates the idea and finds it a little scumbaggy. As for physical description, pretty middle of the road both in size and grooming. 6.2-3, absolutely a grower and not a shower. His cock is the same really pale colour as his skin. He keeps himself a little tidy down south, but can't be bothered to give it more than a trim every now and again. Wispy and blonde, honestly looks almost white in the right lighting.

Koko-

Fancy rich boy smells like fancy rich soap and fancy rich cologne. Nah jk, that man wears perfume not cologne, and honestly, more power to him, he pulls it the fuck off. I think he's very cleanly. Clean, orderly, and fancy shmancy. Tell me why I think he'd own stupid expensive lingerie? I know he would. He swears up down and sideways the first time you find them that they're not for him to wear (they totally are). Pretty big toy collection too, can't convince me otherwise. This man needs his ass ate, I don't make the rules, I just work here. He NEEDS IT. He's super clean down there so it's not gross or anything, and it's just about his favorite activity. In other words, eat the rich- (who said that-) decent 5.7, not particularly large, but enough to get the job done. He's another one I feel like honestly might prefer being clean shaven. He might have a small tuft of curly black hairs, but it would definitely be meticulously kept as he can't stand the feeling of too much hair down there, it annoys him to no end.

Ran-

Biggest tease. BIGGEST TEASE. Brat. BRAT. He's a switch, but by God is he a pain in the ass as a bottom. He doesn't know the meaning of the word submit. He will get on your nerves and try to provoke you until you're fed up and just bend him over the nearest surface. Lowkey gives me the vibe of an exhibitionist. Like, semi-public sex would turn him on so much. Drag him into a bathroom or random alleyway and he'll pop an instant boner. Definitely a brat taming kink and it goes both ways, it's just whoever feels like putting the other in their place, he's cool with it either way. Pull his hair, wrap your hand around his throat, he's a lil freaky freak like that. Really though, an experimentalist, he's willing to try damn near anything at least twice. Definitely has a fair amount of experience, total fuckboy over here. He has a revolving door of guys and gals that want to get in those pants. It's really not that hard to do, what is hard to do is get into that heart. (Cheesy I know) But seriously, if you somehow manage to actually bag this man, you have him under lock and key and he's yours forever, loyal as a dog despite what you might think. Probably about 6.10ish maybe pushing 7" when fully erect. Man's is six feet tall, he's got some length to him, just saying. I feel like he would stay on top of grooming pretty alright, largely because of how much he likes to sleep around, he needs to be presentable down there at all times just in case he randomly bags a hottie while he's out. After getting into a relationship, he's a bit more indifferent to it, but still likes to keep it a little tidy for your sake.

Rindou-

A lot of people assume he's also a fuckboy because of Ran, he's not, and that assumption actually bugs him a lot. He finds sleeping around to be pointless and stupid, and he lowkey kind of silently judges Ran for it. He's a sadistic assholes that loves mocking your whining. At least in the bedroom, he's surprisingly sweet otherwise and just in general. But that same sadistic side that shows when he's fighting shows through during sex. I feel like he might bottom with some convincing, but he'll also be a brat. (A brat that sobs openly when edged enough) However he'll do the same to you when things are the other way around. To my masochistic brothers, here's your man. He's safe and consensual about it, maybe periodically checking up on you but he will absolutely pull your hair, bite you, whip you, spank you, slap you, hell maybe even spit on you if that's your thing. He's a pretty big S&M guy in general, but is the world's biggest enthusiast of *safely* practicing bdsm. Informed consent is key with this man (as it fucking should be). He's the type who likes music in the background, but he is willing to let you choose the music. He can go without, but he prefers it with. 6.7 in length I feel like sounds about right for him. He may or may not decide to actually groom down there, no real guarantee, it depends on the day and how he feels. I headcannon him to be borderline or straight up gender fluid, swapping between cis masc and enby. Some days he prefers it with a little bush and other days he's just like "No. No this cannot do, it must go." So, y'know- ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Sanzu-

Oh, where do I even start with this batshit crazy bastard of a druggie (He's just like me frfr). Admittedly, probably doesn't sleep around much, even though he tries. His crazy scares almost everyone away, if the scars didn't already do the trick (wanna know how I got these scars lookin' headass) but honestly, you probably met him at a bar or a club, and he was probably flirting with you because he's high as shit. I can't see him easily getting into a relationship, but when he does he's absolutely infatuated. Devoted. You are his god. It's almost unsettling how far he's willing to go for you. That also translates into the bedroom. He has his preferences, (AHEM body worship) but assuming he truly does love you and it's not just some spur of the moment one nighter, he's more than willing to do anything, and I mean ANYTHING to please you. No kink too nasty or too far for him. He'll do that in everyday life too. If want him to buy something for you, legal or illegal, he'll do it. He'll make it happen. You hate someone, or someone getting creepy on you? They suddenly go *cough cough* "missing". He loves him some high sex, but I can see him wanting to be at least mostly sober during sex if you're dating. To savor the experience, really. He would totally get high after though. Snorting lines after sex is his go to. A little on the smaller side-ish, maybe around 5.4 or so. But he can use it pretty well if he's sober. He gets sloppy and borderline animalistic when high. He does not care AT ALL about grooming, but again he'd blow up the sun for you if he truly loves you, so he'd do it before you could finish blinking if you ever asked him to.

Izana-

Our favorite half Filipino boy right here. First things first. Sensitive. This man is so incredibly starved for attention and love, he can handle the hardest punches like a champ, but if you lightly and lovingly trace his skin, he's gone. He's dead, putty in your hands. His mind buffers like he's running on widows xp with dial up. He cannot compute this. Rough sex he's fine with, it's probably what he's used to, what he's comfortable with. But soft, gentle, slow sex? It's gonna take a minute to build up to that point. But seriously, hold this man like he's made of glass for a minute, he needs it. He'll complain about it, but he loves it. He so desperately needs someone to show him that sunshine and rainbows even exist at all. He's possesive too. If you show him an ounce of affection, he'll demand gallons and will never let anyone near you. Because how dare you even consider showing anyone else that same affection? It's like how he hates Mikey because of his jealousy over Shinichiro. Anyone who he deems to be a threat, he'll hate them (he's borderlining yandere) Really he's just jealous because he's insecure, give him reassurance and he'll calm down. Well, somewhat. I can imagine him being pretty middle of the road, 5.8 would be my guess. Another type who doesn't pay much mind to his grooming down there, especially in the time skip. Much like Sanzu, this man damn near worships you, so yeah, he'd start manscaping in a heartbeat if you wanted him to. Just ask and he'll do it. Main difference is with Sanzu you 100% have to tell him verbally or he'll never pick up on. Izana may or may not notice if you dislike it, still better to just tell him though. (Communication is good chat, talk to your partners jfc)

Shinichiro-

Awkward dork. Total dweeb and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible. He's a loser and a lame-o, and we all love him for it. He's so babygirl coded fr. He will do everything in his power to please you (and probably fail miserably) whether in the bedroom or not. He tries though, his heart is in the right place and that's what counts. Though he can get a little dejected and self conscious about it, so you just have to remind him that it doesn't bother you and that he's fine the way he is. Please tell him he's fine the way he is. He's tried to dirty talk once before, but ended up stuttering and then became self aware halfway through, visibly cringing because let's be honest, whatever he said was probably pretty cringy. But it just wound up in both of you laughing about it, both in the moment, and looking back on it later. But he does really love you, and it shows in everything he does. I feel like he'd really like cuddle fucking and missionary. Really, he just wants to feel close to you. He likes to be able to hug you while you fuck. He can't dirty talk for the life of him as previously discussed, so he's usually not very verbal, only really moaning out curses or your name. Don't get me wrong, he's vocal, just not verbal. Occasionally when he's in the mood for a more rough type of encounter, he can and will turn into a babbling mess underneath you. However, if you dirty talk to him at all, he will absolutely lose his mind and go beet red, hiding his face in your chest or the crook of your neck. This boy loves nothing more than looking into your eyes, carresing you and kissing you during sex. He's a hopeless romantic is what he is. Actually decently long, 7.6, makes sense, he's over six foot. I feel like he'd definitely try to groom down there when you're dating, but he might fuck up a little and nick himself a couple times. But as always, hell make an effort to look his best and do his best for you.

Wakasa-

Ahem. Point to the best ass eater please?

👉w a k a s a i m a u s h i👈

But seriously. This man's tongue is magical (yes I'm biased, he's my fav leave me tf alone) but really, he gives me the vibe of someone who knows what he's doing. He's got experience and ✨talent✨ in regards to sexy time. And he's strong enough to toss your ass around like a raggedy anne doll, even despite how short he is. C'mon, he's owns a gym and he absolutely kicks ass in a fight, you cannot convince me he couldn't throw me like a tennis ball (I want him to so badly.) Stoner vibes. Hardcore stoner vibes. This man is constantly at least a little buzzed and he's absolutely a plug. You cannot convince me otherwise, I won't listen. This shit is gospel. I feel like he'd be willing to put in some effort for his s/o, but he's a total pillow princess at heart. Whether you're riding him or railing him, as long as he feels good and doesn't have to do shit, he's a happy boy. Really he's just spoiled, doesn't feel like working for a damn thing. He'll get really pouty if you make him beg or work for it, but if you torment and torture him enough he'll comply eventually. Waka is another body worshiper I feel like. Sure, he's a pillow princess, but he likes to have his hands roaming every inch of you at all possible times. His hands and his lips. The softest touches paired with the softest kisses, peppered all over your skin because he just can't get over how perfect you are to him. If you've read my Akihiko x Stoner reader fic, I can imagine that type of scenario. You riding him or him riding you while you share a blunt, just hotboxing yourselves in your room with slow, lazy sex, all of your sense through the damn roof. Another music lover, just something soft and really chill in the background, even better when paired with a good blunt. He's touchy in general when he's high, always having to have contact with you, and he just can't keep himself off of you, same applies to the bedroom, always caressing you without even realizing it. He's packing a relatively solid 5.6. not shabby considering that he's five foot fucking three. Short king, but we love him anyways. I SAID WE STAND WITH OUR SHORT KINGS. He strikes me as the type who grooms semi-frequently, but doesn't obsess about it. He's a lazy guy, but at the same time he doesn't like to be gross y'know? He maintains it, but it's the bare minimum.

Benkei-

Gentle giant, anyone? Because that's what he is. At least when he's with you. Sure, he's only 6'2", but he's pretty fucking wide too. That, and his overall demeanour and personality just gives him the vibe of a big guy. Despite his strength and his tendency to have a hot temper sometimes, he's surprisingly gentle with you. Of course, that's unless you ask him not to be. He'd never dare lay a hand on you in everyday life, but the bedroom has different rules as we all know. He's a big fan of setting up concrete and mutually agreed upon boundaries, and there always has to be a safe word. (Honestly how it should be) Even if you don't have a consent kink, it is undeniabley impressive how hot he can make asking you for verbal consent. He needs explicit verbal consent each time, and absolutely refuses to do anything if either of you are even a little intoxicated unless it was previously discussed. He's such a gentleman in that respect honestly. He'll always listen to your preferences and prioritize your needs first. Even if your into that freaky shit and he's telling you he's just using you as a cock sleeve, really he's always chasing your pleasure more than his own. It's just how he rolls. 7.10, and I will not elaborate. That seems pretty appropriate for him, honestly. He likes to have a bush, but he likes to keep it well kept and trimmed, like how he keeps his beard quite orderly. So there is a tuft of hair down there, black or white, I'm not sure (his natural hair colour isn't confirmed, but I doubt he'd bother dying it.) and it is very well kept. Manscaping is just a part of his everyday routine, same as maintaining his facial hair, he doesn't even think twice about it anymore.

Takeomi-

Another slightly awkward dork, but he tries to pretend he's all confident. May or may not lie about how much experience he has. He might tell you he's slept around a fair bit and dated a lot of people to impress you, but it's obvious he hasn't by how nervous he gets around you. He desperately tried to hide his nervousness too. We all know he's greedy and can get a little self obsessed at times. And I can see why that might make you think that he'd be too much of a narcissist to be a good partner, and I'd say you're only about a quarter right. Yes, having a partner like you would absolutely go to his head a bit. He thinks you're like the best person to ever grace this earth, so he thinks it's a major flex that you'd choose *him* of all people. He would absolutely show you off like some kind of trophy, number one hype man right here. You become his source of pride, next to his gang. I fully believe he's another straight up worshipping type, he thinks you're way too good for him, and as a result hails you like some kind of god and will flaunt you with pleasure. Though if close enough to him, he might be more willing to be vulnerable around you and admit to his overwhelming insecurities and lack of self esteem. It's no secret that his sense of self worth is derived from achievements and material possessions, which is just a tad bit of an issue. Just a tad. This all 100% translates into the bedroom. Tries so hard and fails so miserably to act confident. He'd be more likely to top especially towards the beginning because he feels he has something to prove, he feels that he needs to be more dominant just to show you he cares. But with some time, discussion and a fuckload of reassurance, he'd be willing to bottom. May or may not feel a bit emasculated by it though. Could be a bit of a whiner/whimperer, but again, it takes him a minute to be that comfortable. It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just really doesn't want you to think less of him. Same thing applies to grooming. The only reason he even tries is because he wants to look halfway decent for you. He wants to impress and come across as though he cares. If he cares for himself that makes it seem like he's more capable of caring for you, right? Well, that's his logic anyways. Likes to keep a decent sized tuft of hair because it makes him feel more masculine. Pretty well kept though if I'm being honest, he does a halfway decent job.

[ckret2]

Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond. 

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it. 

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper  through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

[takami-takami]

Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments. 

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?" 

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth. 

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel. 

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case. 

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire? 

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening. 

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here." 

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support. 

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind. 

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course. 

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart. 

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it. 

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth. 

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core. 

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem. 

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch with their own.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs. 

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could— 

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips. 

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity. 

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan. 

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half. 

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms. 

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive. 

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation. 

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," Keigo warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you." 

He schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry. 

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion. 

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth. 

Ah, it hits you. 

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that." 

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?" 

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—" 

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips. 

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With Keigo kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants. 

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!" 

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth. 

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it. 

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face. 

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw." 

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please." 

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire. 

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch Keigo moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor. 

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance. 

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts." 

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt. 

"You're so wet for me," he reveres in awe, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit. 

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent. 

Until you shut the fuck up. 

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory. 

Keigo wants to hear you moan. 

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction. 

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals. 

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care. 

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd. 

Pulling out, that is. 

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end. 

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made. 

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?" 

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

[songbirdseung]

pink roses / park jongseong

you were used to the toxic side of love but now that you were dating park jongseong, you realize love isn't that bad at all genre fluff, budding relationship, slice of life

the sky was still dark, the rain was pouring down hard, and the voice in your mind was telling you just stay home. but then again, the alarm clock on your bedside table reminds you that work cannot wait and it's time to get up and get ready. whoever invented starting work at 7am? curses.

you begrudgingly toss the blankets off your body and plant your feet on the cold floor. staring into the dark of your room, zooning out until your far in deep to the point where you think the coat on your door is a scary figure. groaning as you get up from your comfy bed to get the day started, not knowing a little surprise was waiting for you in a few minutes.

after a while, as you were tidying up your uniform, the scent of waffles and bacon hit your senses. if it wasn't for the smell, you'd probably be freaking out and thinking you're losing your mind and hallucinating. but you damn well knew who was causing this, smiling as you made your way into the kitchen and proving your hypothesis. it was him.

park jongseong, your lover.

"hey beautiful, you've been up for a while?" plating the food so prettily and turning off the stove, even cleaning after himself. "yeah...you've been here for a while?" "mhm, i came in with the spare key you gave me...hope that's alright" he comes closer to you, giving you a hug and a kiss on your cheek. nodding at him, reassuring him that it was fine. "you practically live here anyway" he laughs and smiles, and God damn. that smile and laugh, it makes your heartbeat faster and your knees weak. "i guess i am here often, huh?"

"why don't you just stay home with me, pretty doll?" bringing you to the table, pulling the chair and pushing it in back in after you take your seat. "besides, the weather is pretty bad" taking his own spot next to you and tucking a strand of hair away from your face to get a better look at you. "i wish..." the thing with jay is; if he wants something, he gets it. he's a major green flag but can be a little greedy when it comes to you. you've noticed that since the very start of your relationship that started 6 months ago. the bare minimum? he goes beyond that, giving more than you think you deserve and whenever you tried to stop him and whine that he's doing too much, he'd usually shut you up with a kiss, telling you that whatever he was doing wasn't even his best.

love bombing? that ain't him either, he knows the limits and your boundaries that you set up. trust him, he knows what he's doing, thank his mother for that.

"your boss already called" "what?" he chuckles at your confused expression and points to your phone that you left in the kitchen. "he called telling you not to come into work, the weather is getting pretty dangerous to go out. maybe an online meeting later or something" smirking as he wipes away the syrup from the corner of your lips. "so, you're telling me, i got dressed in my work clothes for no reason?" sighing as you shove another forkful of waffles in your mouth causing jay to chuckle at you. "wear the top part to your meeting later and wear those comfy cat pjs you like to wear"

later in the day, jay was minding his own business sitting on your living room couch working on his own paperwork when you suddenly came and hugged him from behind. "well, hello to you, pretty baby."

he tilted his head to look at you, asking if you needed anything. you shook your head and just continued hugging him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. jay smiled softly, taking one of your hands and kissing the back of it. "meeting over?" he asked, gently pulling you around to sit beside him on the couch.

"yeah… was hoping to spend time with you now," you said, a small pout forming as your eyes fell on the scattered documents and laptop on the table. the work seemed to mock you with how much it was keeping jay occupied. he caught your gaze and chuckled, pressing another kiss to your knuckles. "just a few more, then i'm all yours."

you nodded with a sigh, but after a few minutes of waiting, your patience began to waver. jay was still deep in concentration, his brows furrowed as he typed. unable to sit still, you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder and tracing invisible patterns on his arm.

"babe," jay said softly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "you're making it hard to concentrate."

"good," you replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. "you've been working for hours."

"i know, i know," he said, chuckling as he glanced sideways at you. "just give me a bit more time, okay?"

but you weren't done being needy. your hand slid down to lace with his, giving it a light squeeze, and you pressed small kisses to his shoulder, each one more distracting than the last. jay tried to stay focused, but the playful huff he let out told you he was struggling.

"you’re trouble, you know that?" he teased, finally putting down his pen and turning his full attention to you. before you could react, he scooped you up and settled you on his lap, making you gasp at the sudden move. your face flushed as you looked at him, wide-eyed.

"jay!" you exclaimed, trying to regain your composure, but he just grinned, eyes crinkling with amusement. "what? you wanted my attention, didn't you?" he teased, fingers trailing up your sides, making you squirm and giggle.

"stop it, you're not playing fair!" you protested, laughter bubbling out as he leaned in, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

"i thought you liked it when i didn't play fair," he whispered, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. you felt your heart race as his hands stilled, holding you close, the laughter replaced by a soft, contented silence.

"okay, okay, you win," you admitted, resting your forehead against his. he smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"good," he said. "because i'm finally done, and now, i'm all yours."

[zablife]

Save me Darlin'

Benny Cross x female reader

Benny Cross Masterlist

A/N: Bc this seemed to be a fave line from my headcanons about Benny, it gets its own imagine. "Did you pray for me every night like a good girl? On your hands and knees? Let me see."

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blow job, corruption

"Fix your damn jacket," Johnny grumbled, turning to give Benny a scowl as the young man flicked his cigarette butt onto your father's perfectly manicured lawn.

"Jesus Christ we're trying to get these people to change their mind about us," Johnny huffed, climbing the steps to greet your father with a firm handshake.

Benny ducked his head to hide the smirk on his lips as he mumbled under his breath, "Well they really ain't gonna trust us now." Johnny was an unknowing accomplice in his plan to get close to you, a diversion to gain access to the prettiest little thing he'd ever seen.

Normally he wouldn't need to meet anyone's daddy, let alone pretend to care what they thought about him, but you were different. A carefully guarded princess in a tower, he might never have known you existed if Betty hadn’t dragged him to that church picnic last month.

Sometimes he wondered if he might be better off never to have met you though. As it was, most nights he lay awake replaying every minute you'd spent together, jerking off to the memories he’d carefully stored. Your innocent doe eyes staring up at him as you passed him a glass of lemonade, biting your lip just so. Or the way you absently twirled your necklace between delicate fingertips, running the tiny gold cross over your tongue before dropping it into the front of your sundress. And, God, the way your chest rose and fell as he showed you his motorcycle, soft voice promising so earnestly, "I'll pray for ya every night, Benny."

You entered his mind at the most inopportune times, stealing his concentration. He was a man obsessed, in need of one more glimpse of you. Even at this very moment as your father stared at him with disapproval, he knew he'd risk everything to make that a reality. If only he could get out of this living room and find you.

"I asked you a question, son," your father's voice boomed suddenly, pulling Benny from his scheming.

Blinking helplessly, Benny looked to Johnny who came to his aid. "Few odd jobs, nothing regular, but he ain't been here long."

Your father pursed his lips as he replied, "Spose that's why you have so much free time to ride those death machines."

"They're safer than they look," Johnny assured, clearing his throat and wishing Benny would say or do something other than stare down the hallway.

Luckily your mother came into the room with refreshments, breaking the tension as she began to ask questions about Betty and the children. It seemed to lighten the mood momentarily and Benny took it as his opportunity to escape, asking for the bathroom.

As soon as he turned the corner away from prying eyes, he heard a gentle humming and his heart began to thunder in his chest. Walking as carefully as possible on the rickety floorboards, he willed his heavy boots not to make a sound as he approached the crack in your door. Face bathed in the sliver of light emanating from a tiny lamp at your bedside, he watched in hushed awe as you tied pink, satin ribbons in your hair. Lace nightie inching higher with each raise of your elbow, the thin material slowly grazed along your upper thighs, making him sigh appreciatively.

He could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile winking back at him in the mirror as you reached for your lotion and a familiar heat began to rise in his abdomen. In a moment of courage, he slipped inside your room. Closing the door behind himself with a soft thud, he placed a finger to his lips with a look of mischievous delight.

The sight was utterly contagious, making you clasp a hand to your mouth to stifle the giggle ready to erupt from your lips. However, the sound of your father's voice a few rooms over soon impressed the seriousness of the situation upon you.

Rushing at Benny with palms splayed on his chest to move him back across the threshold, you whispered frantically, "We can't...you have to go."

"You want me to go?" came Benny's breathless response, hoping this wouldn't be the way things ended.

As you lost yourself in the ocean's of his eyes, you gulped, shaking your head pathetically.

"Then let me stay," he begged, giving his best puppy dog eyes. You tried to look away, but he hooked your chin with his fingers holding your gaze in a smoldering stare. He watched as your resolve crumbled before him, a small smile playing on his lips as he asked, "Did you pray for me every night like a good girl?"

You nodded as best you could in his firm grasp, only a whimper of agreement as your reply.

His cock stirred at your admission, the idea that you'd thought of him at night enough to rouse his deepest desires. The world fell away as he tugged you into his body, hands roving your hips and lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Yeah? On your hands and knees? Let me see."

Benny could tell by the way your breasts crushed against his chest that you were breathing hard, unaccustomed to someone manhandling you like this. You tapped his elbow for him to relinquish his hold and for a moment his heart stopped, worried he'd pushed you too far. As he surveyed the crucifix on your wall and the sweet confection of a dress you'd laid out for Sunday service in the morning, he reminded himself you weren't the kind of girl who did these things....even knew about them.

Then something miraculous happened. You sunk to your knees in the plush carpet, hands trailing along his muscular thighs reverently before coming to rest inches from his crotch. As you sat back on your heels you looked up at him, eyes glistening and plump lips parted. He might have hallucinated the next part, but the golden glow over the crown of your head looked damn near like a halo in the dim light. You offering yourself to him like an angel in one of his dreams.

Benny wasn't a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but if he was he'd swear God sent you straight to him. He was certain the warmth of your smile and the softness of your touch was all he'd ever need to feel complete. Now he understood why you had to be kept under lock and key. A person like you was too precious to be defiled and his conscience began to gnaw at him the longer he stared, thumb stroking your bottom lip tenderly.

But the sinner that wanted every part of you was winning the battle inside him and soon his own desire overtook him. He moved his hand to tangle in your hair and took hold of your silky ribbons like a set of reins, guiding you closer in silent demand. Widening his stance to accommodate you, he urged, "Go on, baby."

And you answered the plea, tethered to his side dutifully. You nuzzled against his bulge, feeling the effect you had on him. In a word it was intoxicating and you needed more. Undoing his zip you gasped at the sight of him, knowing instantly you'd take the risk of being caught if it meant touching him, holding him...feeling the weight of him on your tongue.

The growls you pulled from him were devilish even as your delicate fingers and mouth tried to calm the beast inside him. He was a man possessed, but you did your best to keep pace with the ravenous desire of his hips pushing into you, causing saliva to run down your chin and past your knuckles. With every gag, he seemed to clutch your shoulder tighter, sigh a little deeper and it spurred you on until you heard him instruct you in a shaky voice, "Have to... swallow it all now, darlin'... okay?"

Your mind raced as you tried to recall what your friends had told you about this, but you didn't have time as he spilled into your waiting mouth. The bitter tang coated your tongue with his grateful pants echoing over your head. As you swallowed everything he had to give, you felt him stroke your cheek adoringly. "Angel, I think I love you," he exhaled on a low breath, raising you to your feet for a passionate kiss.

There was little time to bask in the afterglow, however. The din in the lounge had grown, indicating some kind of argument and he quickly stuffed himself back into his jeans.

“I don't think you can stay," you mumbled sorrowfully against his lips.

"S'okay, nothin’s gonna keep us apart," he assured you, that wicked grin returning.

"You promise?" you asked, tears gathering at your lashline in fear he'd never return.

"Always keep my promises, angel. Keep prayin' for me now," he winked, glancing down at your dimpled, reddened knees before exiting out your bedroom door.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| A Good Read ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Happy birthday @anna-hawk ! I had a little draft sitting for ages and the fact it was your b-day today inspired me to finish it. 😊

Frank is reading, his gaze fixed intently on the text of his current book as his fingertips idly draw little circles and patterns over the bare skin of your upper thigh.

You were tucked up with him on the couch in his lap, warm and cosy in your cosy baggy hoodie, low cut vest, sleep shorts and thick, soft socks that came up past your knees. This was no doubt one of your favourite places to be, snuggling in to the solid and real heat of Frank on a lazy Sunday. You're more than happy just sitting here and enjoying the view.

Watching his hands as he turns to the next page, your focus is swiftly drawn to the prominent veins and tendons that stick out on the back of his hand and along his forearm when he moves. You're entranced every time his fingers flex, your mind very quickly going to the thought of just how easily they could take you apart.

Your head tips sideways against Frank's chest as you study his face, the way his warm brown eyes are flitting back and forth as he's engrossed in the book, your attention moving from his gorgeous nose down to watch a small muscle tic in his strong jaw, the undulating of his Adam's apple as he swallows, and the tip of his tongue peaking out to wet his lips as he turns another page. His other hand is still slowly stroking your bare skin, an entirely innocent show of affection that has been gradually flaring up your desire to a white hot flame that might need dousing before you explode.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Frank seemingly picks up on your increased distractedness, although he's still reading.

You don't trust yourself to make coherent words, instead just giving him a small positive sounding hum in response. He plants a small kiss on the top of your head and you melt just a little bit more.

“You gettin' bored, wanna do something else?”

You shake your head, relaxing against his body as he settles back on the couch again and curls his free arm loosely around your waist. You murmur your assent as he starts to gently rub and stroke over your stomach asking if you're okay with it. Of course you're okay, you're in your man’s arms and he's loving on you so much and so good that you want to burst with glee. You're already so het up about it, but soon, his trailing fingers expand their seemingly aimless path, edging up closer to the underside of your breasts with each slow pass.

The corner of Frank's mouth hooks up as he hears your tiny moan as he moves his hand higher and cups your breast softly, stroking his thumb across your nipple through the fabric of your vest.

“This okay baby?”

Dampness quickly grows between your thighs, your nipples stiffen, heat rapidly rising to your cheeks at the attention.

“Y-yeah..” you squeak, your breathing turning more shallow as his huge, big hand lovingly fondles you.

He gently gives your knee a tap and you let your legs fall open, becoming boneless as he runs his large hand down to your lower belly and beyond, at first just lightly stroking over the soft fabric of your shorts before he can't resist pushing underneath the waistband.

You close your eyes, submitting your body to whatever Frank wants to do to it. He's in control right now.

As his fingers slip between your folds, a halted gasp escapes your throat. You're so wet that his fingers glide so easily over your sensitive pussy.

“God damn baby, how long you been feeling like this?”

“Mm, little while.”

“Shoulda told me.” He puts the book down on the side table.

“You were reading, didn't want to disturb you.”

Frank scrunches up his nose. “Doesn't matter sweet thing, you ain't disturbing me if you need somethin’”.

He keeps his touch light and so slow that you want to scream but you know he knows what he's doing, reading your body just like he has all those times before, sometimes knowing what you need better than yourself.

He circles the pad of his finger so delicately, so achingly slowly over and around your clit, drawing a thin breath near your ear as he feels just how engorged it is, knowing how little it will take to have you flying over the edge.

Gooey pulses of electric pleasure flow steadily through your body like a heartbeat as he keeps on. Your legs twitching and your breath stuttering out when Frank soothingly kisses you on the shoulder.

“You're wound right up, ain't ya?”

You nod slowly, then letting your head fall back against him as he languidly moves his slick fingers over you.

“This alright sweetheart, nice and slow?”

Your answering moans are long and wavering as he keeps you teetering on the very edge with teasing fingers, your legs still shaking as he moves his other hand down, slipping into your shorts to your aching entrance.

“Yeah?” He asks again, paying full attention to your reactions as he so very slowly starts to push two of his thick fingers inside you. “Just like that, pretty girl?”

You close your eyes, body arching into his touch, moaning softly as he takes his sweet time with you, pumping in and out, unhurriedly building the tension up inside you.

He kisses the side of your neck, still keeping the syrupy slow pace. It's the kind of feeling where you don't know if you can possibly bear if he were to stop or keep on going, it's too much and not enough.

“Fr-raank..” you whine out pathetically.

“Hey, shh-shh-shh,” Frank soothes, and it's then you realise there are tears ready to spill from your waterline. “it's alright, I got you baby, I got you.”

Your hips rise to meet the gentle but deep thrusts of his fingers, moving so easily now from your slick arousal that coats them, curling and rubbing towards the front of your inner walls beckoning louder and higher moans from you. Frank keeps you held firm, tight and safe in his warm embrace, the fingers of his other hand flicking just that little bit faster over your throbbing nub and making you squirm and cry out in pure pleasure as his relentless but loving touch sends you tumbling over into utter bliss.

“There you go,” his deep croon is the only sound in your fuzzy hearing, you're only barely aware of his lips kissing the side of your neck, writhing while he talks you through your intense quaking orgasm.

“Beautiful, you're so goddamn beautiful… c'mon sweetheart let it all go, that's it, attagirl, so good f’me…”

You're melting over him, content to let your body and soul surrender completely to the euphoric feeling he's giving you.

Your body's movements eventually slow to a tremble as the last syrupy aftershocks ripple through you, Frank forever paying attention to when you've had enough and need him to slow down and stop, gently releasing you to recover in his arms.

As you slowly come back to reality and look up, Frank's dark blown pupils are gazing intently back down at you.

“You okay sweetheart?”

“Frank, that was…”

His brows crease a little as you're completely at a loss for the words you need, instead, silently and slowly rising to your feet, reaching down for the waistband of his grey sweats and tugging at them until he gets the gist and lifts his hips, letting you pull them down and see how turned on he is. The very sight of his thick cock curving up towards his stomach has you feeling empty again, clenching around nothing. You need him, want to make him feel as good as he makes you feel.

He watches, slightly stunned as you push down your shorts, kicking them off as you climb back onto the couch and onto Frank, your knees on either side of his hips as you take him in hand and tilt your pelvis forward, the thick head of his cock right where you need it as Frank's hands come around your waist, ready to support you.

The sensation as you sink down on him, coupled with the unrestrained moan that breaks from his throat is everything you ever needed. He lets you take charge, set the pace you want as his hands smooth up and down your back, watching you rise and fall on him with a look of total awe and adoration. Your own arms drape over his shoulders and around his neck as you fuck him slow, grinding your hips in a circular motion before you lift up until it's only the very tip left inside you, the act making him groan and then curse as you drop down again taking him so deep.

“Feels so good baby,” you praise, your fingers ruffling up through the hair on the back of his head and tugging at the roots just a bit. That makes his hips jump, thrusting up reflexively and he's quick to apologize for it.

“Fuck I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean- hnngh!”

You cut him off as you rock down on him, tugging at his hair again, his unbridled reaction too addictive for you to stop.

“Shhh… s'okay.” you whisper back at him, sealing your mouth over his kissing him deep.

His hands are all over your body as you ride him faster, moaning into your mouth, his fingers indenting into the meat of your thighs and ass, lips and teeth sucking and scraping over the skin of your chest in worship.

“Wanna feel you, Frank..” you hush against his ear, upping your pace and watching how hard he's trying not to fall apart. But that's exactly what you want. Seeing Frank so unguarded in the throes of passion, especially when you were the one in control, had to be one of the hottest things you had ever witnessed.

“Fuck, baby,” Frank husks through gritted teeth, “ain’t gonna last-”

So you fuck him harder. You don't want him to.

“Come for me. C'mon Frankie, fill me up, make me feel it.”

It only takes another couple of thrusts until he reaches his peak with an almighty roar, feeling his dick twitching as he spills deep inside you. You keep on rocking your hips, steadily slowing as he pants for breath beneath you. You can't resist calling him a good boy, and the way he gets that cute bashful smile on his face and can barely meet your eyes fills your right heart up.

You stay draped over him for a short while, both your breath syncing to slow, deep draws as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, his hands gently stroking down your spine.

A perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

[sobblesources]

THAT'S CALLED LOVE WITH THE COMMON TOUCH .

a collection of sentence starters from the airborne toxic event's album ' hollywood park ' . edited to fit rp needs , adjust pronouns as necessary . warnings for swears

❛ i could feel it in my veins , ❜

❛ we were running away , ❜

❛ i'm tired of living a lie , ❜

❛ they were writing their names up in the sky , ❜

❛ i felt like i was ready to die , ❜

❛ you can change if you're ready to try , ❜

❛ nothing could come between you & i , ❜

❛ we knew we'd lost our home , ❜

❛ there's only the wreckage , & this dirt still on my hands , ❜

❛ what becomes of us now ? ❜

❛ i never claimed i knew how this would end , ❜

❛ i hope ( they ) make you smile , ❜

❛ i swear i see your face once & a while , ❜

❛ did you find what you were looking for ? ❜

❛ did you stay sober ? ❜

❛ i hope you make it back alive , ❜

❛ can't they just let me be ? ❜

❛ all i know is i need to be someone , ❜

❛ put a charm upon this life of mine , ❜

❛ take this heart of mine & tell it how to love , ❜

❛ carry me somewhere far away from this life that's waiting here for me , ❜

❛ i know i'll die if i ever come back here again , ❜

❛ come on , out with it , ❜

❛ you hope to replace how the emptiness fills you inside , ❜

❛ you say you had your reasons , ❜

❛ they're after us , ❜

❛ i don't want to be here , ❜

❛ the silence is driving me out of my mind , ❜

❛ tell me , why'd you even bother ? ❜

❛ what's everybody screaming about ? ❜

❛ all our illusions fell , ❜

❛ if you jump too high , you'll fall harder than before , ❜

❛ why'd you let me down ? ❜

❛ when are you gonna come around ? ❜

❛ we grew up way too fast , ❜

❛ i'll be gone & i'll stay gone , ❜

❛ they stole our past , but they can't steal our future , ❜

❛ stop staring , ❜

❛ they say the end is coming , ❜

❛ you cried while i patched you up , ❜

❛ it's so much better to have loved & lost , ❜

❛ there's a hole in your heart , just go fill it with love , ❜

❛ what is love ? ❜

❛ ( they'll ) never know the power ( they ) wield , ❜

❛ i was childishly hoping you'd pull me through , ❜

❛ give me a moment of time less alone in my mind , ❜

❛ i'm stranger than you can imagine , it's true , ❜

❛ i'm yours , & i'm yours , & i'm here , ❜

❛ i swear there's nothing to fear , ❜

❛ i waited for you to be whole , ❜

❛ can you remember when our hearts were open ? ❜

❛ i always hear the same damn thing , ❜

❛ i got sixty - nine problems , but one ain't me , ❜

❛ seriously , i don't give a fuck if my answer isn't good enough , ❜

❛ the common touch ain't worth the price , ❜

❛ i swear i still got some good moves left , ❜

❛ i swear i don't feel a goddamn thing , ❜

❛ does god know what's going on ? ❜

❛ i can't be alone just yet , ❜

❛ you're the only good thing that i've got left , ❜

❛ we're going to have a good time yet , ❜

❛ i swear that i'll always be something you can believe , ❜

❛ yeah they say that jesus saves , but i couldn't write that on ( their ) grave , ❜

❛ i lost my shit when i heard the call , ❜

❛ i'm sorry i put this at your feet , ❜

❛ can't you see ? ❜

❛ were you ever scared like me ? ❜

❛ just let it be like rain on flowers , ❜

❛ the highest life brought out the lowest out of me , ❜

❛ you're never really off my mind , ❜

❛ it was more than i could take , ❜

❛ the truth is always wrong , ❜

❛ it's true you were my best friend , ❜

❛ we needed each other in the end , ❜

❛ i know we'll be together then , ❜

❛ i'll see you again , ❜

❛ i won't ever let go , & that's one thing you can trust , ❜

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural S04E21 When The Levee Breaks

This my favourite episode ever! Can you guess why?

of course it means it will also be heavily anti Dean. Dean girlies, this ain't for you.

God, Dean getting pissed about Sam lying, as if Dean hasn't lied to Sam before is getting me pissed off

Sam's angry "Dean!" Is so hot

it makes me so angry that Dean and Bobby left Sam to deal with the detox all alone. How could they? And the fact that it didn't occur to Dean that Sam could die during that? Like wake up!

no Bobby, he is not here because you love him too much. He is here because you are scared of Sam!

Poor Sam, all alone, screaming for help, terrified of everything happening to him, not sure what's real what's not and they left him to rot in there! What's even worse? They cuffed him to the bed and left him to wake up alone again ?! 😤

at least Bobby had the sense to doubt their actions whereas Dean was busy being self righteous. Pull that stick Outta ur ass, Dean

ahhh Jared played the junkie role so well! The tremors, the trembling hands, the blinking eyes, the seizures, the agitation!!!

I know Jared's a professional but don't tell me he didn't have fun manhandling Ruby a bit!

Sam had no right sexualizing drinking demon blood 😍 sorry, I'll allow the demon blood drinking if it's this hot

Dean, honey, you did exactly what Ruby did. Left Sam alone. You're not better than her just because your eyes don't flash black. Yet.

that exchange between Sam and Dean is so important to me. Despite Dean locking Sam up, he is glad to see his brother and wants him to join him to bring down Lilith but Dean.. he just can't give up control, can he? The one time Sam's begging him to trust him but nope. Sam is still so understanding but the moment Dean calls him a monster..damn!

Woohoo!! That punch was so long overdue! Anyone else noticed that sexy roll of Sam's shoulders?

Dean should be glad Sam doesn't get physically violent as often as Dean does. He would get his ass handed to him

no matter how much of a dick Dean has been to Sam, the one thing that I never liked was Sam strangling Dean. Like, honey, no! You are better than this

seeing all the shit Dean has pulled through the seasons, i realised just how forgiving Sam is. He doesn't punch him back everytime Dean hits him. He never brought up Dean calling him a monster or the corrupted voice mail. He trusted him even when Dean said he was going to say yes to Micheal. He moved past Dean killing Amy. Sam is too good. Dean.. eh!

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐑 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. gaku x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. for once he isn’t staying up late for his video games but instead for you.

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.5k .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff. f!reader. noceur - (n.) one who stays up late. mix of canon and self made. spoiler - free . safe for minors! crappy writing. gaku may seem ooc .

　"PLEASE, please, please, please! Can you pick me up?"

As a matter of fact, you never would've thought about you begging for anyone or anything. But here you are, about to break into tears while begging, because your dear friend wouldn't give in to pick you up from school. It wasn't even that much work, considering he was near your school. And the fact you two haven't seen each other for a while — a while means two years.

God who knows what Gaku was doing in those years. You have no idea where that guy was even disappearing with his supposed family! They don't even look an ounce similiar beside their silverly-white hair and those good-looks. Who cares now though? You're in a situation in which you can't waste a second since it was hard as hell to convince someone as lazy as him to do something for you.

"Look, if you told your friends a lie and land into a stupid situation, you gotta get out by yourself." his tired voice was on the speaker, "I ain't getting your ass outta that."

"But we haven't seen each other for so long! Didn't you miss me?! We can play roblox together again." you cried out as quiet as you can, sitting on the damned school toilette.

"I don't know where you live but we can play that without meeting each other." you could only hear him sigh at the other end of the mic.

"That's it, I'm burning your house down in adopt me! I'm stealing your neon pets too, lazy monkey!"

"Yeah, yeah. Good luck."

With those last words the call ended, not in your favor. You slammed your fist against the wall of the cabin and stood up from the toilette seat, not caring if someone else heard you. You roughly put your phone into your pocket of your skirt while storming out of the girls' restroom and returning to your friends, mind sunken deep into furious thoughts.

How could he be so mean? After all the time you've spent together playing shitty video games to cure his boredom! You only thought about him whenever he invited you to play with him. Yeah that summarized up how much you like him, enough to watch him speedrun some games and sticking by his side like glue. "He's such a bitch." you cursed, your rushing turned into walking.

Calmly, you pat down your skirt to remove any wrinkles before sliding the door to the side with a tight smile. "Sorry, guys. My boyfriend is a little tired after returning to japan. I mean he was away for a long time and of course, he also needs some time to get used to here. So he can't pick me up today." the lie slipped out of your lips as if it was second nature as you sat down on your seat again.

"Naw, not even on valentine's day?!" one of your friend exclaimed. "Would've loved to met that dude you're crushing about the whole time."

"Must be hard to führen a long-distance relationship."

"So actually, what if he isn't real? Guys, what if [name] lost her sanity and made up a guy. Or what if he's an online boyfriend and [name] is being an e-kitten 'cause she needs money." you twitched as your friend joked.

"I mean there is a chance. After all, they met on the internet!"

That wasn't a lie though. You did meet Gaku through an underrated game — it wasn't a popular game at all, barely hundred log-in's per day and everyone knew each other. He joined, you two became good friends, traded numbers and after a good amount of time you two met in real life. Mind you, you two were fourteen at that time, dumb enough to trust strangers you met online.

Okay maybe you were the dumb one for blindly trusting him. But if you didn't, you wouldn't have been good friends like today! Four years later. And you crushed so hard on him, you could literally walk the path of shame when you thought about your obsession era. It's fine now! The crush phase calmed down while he was away somewhere. You still can't believe he doesn't trust you enough to tell you where.

"You all are fake as heck." you huffed. "Skipping club today."

"Guys, stop. [name] is already heartbroken enough. No need to add more weight and now she's even skipping club!"

"Thank you, mamacita."

"Stop."

"No way."

　You groaned in annoyance, burrying your head deep into your pillow. You're so stupid. "Maybe it was a little wishful on my part for hoping that he would pick me up! I mean, he probably is really tired." you muttered under your breath. "But it's not like he is never tired! That stupid duck only stays up for his stupid games! Curse them, curse them all! He only thinks about this shit."

Sigh.

"Can't believe I'm crushing on someone like him. Bet he reeks. He should touch grass. Green aura with dead flies." you turned so you could lay on your side, eyes wandering to the chocolate bag on your table. "You simp."

It's already midnight. Hours past valentine's day. And you didn't even get to give him the chocolate yourself. "Stop worrying about that [name]." you told yourself as you closed your eyes for a second. "He's right. It's my own fault for telling my friends he's my boyfriend just because everyone had someone they loved and bragged about."

With that, you covered your face in shame and little embarrassment. "Shit... I'm lucky I didn't ruin our friendship over something as silly as this." what you called silly was actually your feelings. If you didn't act because of your feelings, you wouldn't be so disappointed. You really should start thinking before acting.

"I..." you covered your face with the pillow and grabbed your phone from the nightstand, now laying on your stomach, "really wanted to give him this box."

As soon as you looked up from the soft cushion, the light that was emitted by your phone blinded you for a moment before your eyes got used to it.

× The Love Of My Life (1) missed call

[05:34pm]

"Oh." you let out in surprise. Your eyes widened. "Oh."

"Ah... I should call back." you coughed, about to press the call button. "Wait, it's super late though. He probably isn't awake. Or he is awake and playing some video games like always. But he would've called me though— He did call me. The call was a while ago though. Too early for his usual all-nighters play through."

Calling The Love Of My Life . . .

"Uh... seems like it was the inevitable." you sat up from your bed, eyes looking out of the window. Suddenly, you felt nervous. Yet you did the get much time to prepare because after two rings, the call got accepted.

"Finally called back huh? Were you ignoring me or something?" his voice was on the speaker again.

"Yeah of course..." you awkwardly trailed off and tried to play it off coolly, "and? What'cha doing?"

"Nothing. Chilling on the swing." weird.

"Huh, not even playing your usual midnight games?" you asked curiously.

"Surprisingly not. I was waiting."

"Waiting for what? For my call or what? Is that why you stayed up so late till midnight?" you teased him jokingly.

"Actually yes. I was waiting for you."

You blinked at that before chuckling, confused. "Eh?"

"I was waiting for you at the gate. Skipped club today, didn't you?"

"I..." you gazed to the box on your desk, "stay there. You're at the park, right?"

"Guessed right."

Without wasting another second, you ended the call and stumbled out of the bed, rushing past your desk while grabbing onto the box. "I'm out for a sec'!" you whispered-shouted, not caring to change your pyjama as you got your jacket.

　Panting heavily, you finally reached your destination to the park and frantically looked around to search a certain white-headed guy. 'Chilling on the swing, he said chilling on the swing.' your gaze went to the swing. There he was, comfortably sitting on it without any worries and seemingly enjoying the night sky.

"[name], you're here." he spoke up, eyes following your slow figure. His gaze was glued to you. Even after noticing the little box in your hand. "I've been waiting."

"You're at this specific park since it's near my park, aren't you?" you questioned and already figured him out, your heavy breathing calming down ever so slightly. "Here."

Now he allowed himself to take a look at the box you were holding onto. "Happy late Valentine's day, Gaku." you whispered, taking his hand so he would accept those chocolate. "Make sure to pay me back tenfold." you turned your back to him, cheeks completely red while thinking that you made yourself look like some kind of fool. "Or else I will be very mad at you."

"Happy late Valentine's day. I didn't expect such half-assed confession." you froze at the spot, your head back to the guy whose expression was unclear. "Stayed up for you and this, you know?

WHERE'S THE ›I LOVE YOU‹?"

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — what the skibidi did I write

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: too observant to play dumb (pt 1)

wc: 1.7 k

synopsis: how the arrival at the hard deck went

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: hey yall! so fun fact it has been 8 years since I started this blog, and as a little thank you, I have a 3 part update to the athena-verse, the whole thing comprises the hard deck scene from the beginning of the movie and will end basically where athena settles debts starts. as always I hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want to be added to the tags!

You'd been standing with Jake and Javi when Nat finally walked in.

"Athena! I've been looking for you!" she shouts, pulling your attention away from the pool table you'd just set up with Javi.

"Oh shit, sorry 'Nix," you offer a half smile.

"Answer your god damn for when I call you," she groans, pointing menacingly at you.

"Yes, Ma'am," you mock salute before noticing the two men behind her. "Looks like you made new friends just fine though," you offer jokingly.

"Payback, Fanboy. Meet Athena, smoothest flier you'll ever see," Phoenix introduces, and you smile warmly at your friend before offering your hand to the two behind her.

"Nice to meet you fellas," you greet.

"High praise coming from Phoenix," Fanboy notes, shaking your head.

"Highest of the high, actually," Payback adds on.

"Yeah, well, there's almost no one I'd rather have on my wing than 'Nix," you compliment back. You were going to ask how they knew your friend, but someone else interrupted you before you could.

"Yo, are we playing or what?" you roll your eyes as you turn back to where Jake and Javi are standing and gesture to the three in front of you; you realize Jake is hunched over the table, lining up his next shot.

"I'm playing nice, Seresin. You should try it," you prod, and Javi manages a slight smirk at Jake.

Jake looks up and makes eye contact with you while landing a ball in a corner pocket, and you can't help but roll your eyes again, cocky bastard. When he straightens, he finally notices what has caught your attention. "Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix, and she found new friends," he smirks, walking around the table in your direction. "And here I thought we were special Coyote. Turns out the invite went out to anybody."

It's almost like a switch is flipped, you realize, watching as Jake now interacts with others. Cocky attitude inflating his ego in a way that was so Hangman but not necessarily Jake. Nat didn't believe you when you tried to explain that you saw past it, and that's why you were friends. She was confident in her reading, which fair, especially when he acted like this.

"Fellas this here is Bagman," she introduces, and you can already tell it's going to be a long detachment spent between your two friends, especially since they hate each other.

"Hangman," he corrects, tone slightly barbed.

"Whatever," Phoenix makes a face at him and rolls her eyes when she looks at you as if to say, C'mon Athena, don't you see what I'm talking about? "You're looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill," she adds on, turning back to Jake.

Your eyes narrow at the compliment-like a statement; however, you don't trust it for a second.

Hangman smiles, "Stop," he muses as he settles down beside you, bumping your shoulder with his as he does, full of pride like a peacock strutting his feathers.

"Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War," she clarifies, and you nod; you felt this was where she was taking it.

"Cold War," Coyote corrects, always one to back up his friends.

"Different wars, same century," Payback interjects.

"Not this one," Fanboy tacks on.

"Who're your friends?" Coyote asks, eyes dancing over the two on either side of Phoenix.

"Payback."

"Fanboy."

Both aviators introduce themselves with a simple nod, and you can't hide your smile of amusement. The testosterone was off the charts, and Nat was leading the bunch.

"Hey Coyote," she greets, eyes darting to Javi, and you fight the smirk at the look in her eye.

"Hey," he greets, dragging out the 'ey' a bit, and your eyes dart over to Jake just to find a knowing look already focused on you.

"Who's he?" Nat asks, nodding to the side.

"Who's who?" Coyote's brows had furrowed down, and then Nat turned to look at the quiet Aviator in glasses who'd been munching on peanuts while you played pool.

"When did you get in?" Coyote's voice floats over from behind you as you take a moment to observe your silent comrade.

"Oh, oh I've been here the whole time," he admits, and your brow quirks, and quickly you turn to look over at Jake.

"Man's a stealth pilot," you muse gently, and even Nat cracks a smile.

"Literally," Coyote nods.

"Weapons systems officer, actually," he corrects, and your lips twitch; he's adorable, you decide immediately.

"With no sense of humor," Jake huffs out.

You elbow him, and he gasps before standing and handing off the pool cue to Nat.

"What do they call you?" you ask, voice sweet.

"Bob," he answers, offering a hesitant smile in response to your wide one.

"No, your call sign," Payback clarifies.

He seems to hesitate, "uh.." he trails for a second, and you can read the nervous energy easily. "Bob," he repeats, and you frown a bit at the cautious undertones of his voice.

"Bob Floyd?" Nat asks. "You're my new backseater? From Leemore?" her tone had turned a bit incredulous. The smothered chortles from Payback and Fanboy were not nearly as covert as they seemed to think it was, based on the glares Nat was sending them.

"Looks like it, yeah," Bob confirms, and that nervous undertone is still there.

Nat pauses and looks at you. You tilt your head knowingly, and she nods, turning to the back seater.

"Nine ball, Bob. Rack 'em."

"Uh.. kay, yeah," he nods, standing and taking the pool cue outstretched in Natasha's hand.

You pat your friend's shoulder knowingly before turning to look for Jake. You spot him at the bar and start walking that way. You pause, though, when you see him talking to Penny, and then you realize who was on the other side of her and, most likely, who had just caused the bell to ring. Leave it to your dad to piss off the woman who loved him through his worst and best without even trying.

You're so focused on watching the interaction at the bar you miss it when he walks in.

"Bradshaw! That you?" Nat's voice rings out over the noise of the bar. It's only now starting to get busy, and you can't help the way your head snaps over to him.

You'd knew he'd be here. He said as much in his email, but being confronted by him and the past you avoided was something you decided then and there that you weren't ready for.

You're stuck, frozen, watching him interact with Phoenix.

"This is how I find out you're stateside?" she asks before lining up to take her next shot.

"Yeah I thought I'd surprise you," he responds with an easy camaraderie that you hadn't realized existed with the woman you considered to be one of your closest friends these days.

He's looking around the bar, not having spotted you yet, when Nat lets out a hum, taking her shot. Obviously, she lands another in the pocket; this was Phoenix we're talking about. She manages to hit Bradley in the gut with the end of the pool cue, forcing him to keel over a bit.

A petty and vindictive piece of you takes pleasure in that. But another piece, a little girl, she aches for the easygoing relationship and the best friend she once had.

"Guess I surprised you back," she smirks, facing Bradley.

He nods at her, "it's good to see you," he manages to huff out, slowly standing back up.

"It's good to see you too," she smiles, and he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, and you have to turn back around.

You're counting your breaths again, focusing on what you can see, touch, hear, taste, and smell. You realize too late that Jake's analyzing you. He'd seen how you stiffened up and focused on the interaction, and he saw how you forced yourself to turn around, away from Bradley.

He grabs the beers Penny offers him and a glass of something else, says something to Penny, you think, and then turns back, walking toward you. He places the glass in your hand with a whispered "G&T."

"Thanks," you manage to spit out.

"Where's your head?" he asks, voice still low, and you know that right now, no one is paying attention to the two of you.

"A little too far off the ground," you admit; it wasn't worth the effort to lie to Jake; generally, he saw through it anyway.

You notice how his eyes dart past you, looking at Brad and Nat, but he doesn't ask you about it. Instead, he asks, "What do you need?"

"Time machine?" you ask, eyes finally meeting his straight on instead of jumping around like they had been. He was good at that, asking the right questions; probably a perk of learning how to piss everyone off is also knowing when to pull back.

"Fresh out, I'm afraid," the drawl in his Texan accent always appeared early in the morning and late at night, but also when he drank. Your favorite appearance was in the whispers when he talked low, and it just tended to bleed into every word; it made you think of Jake the football star, Jake the kid who grew up on a ranch, a version of the man before you, you never got to meet.

"Then I guess I'll have to just… manage," you muse sourly.

"You always tend to do better than just manage, 'Thena," he reminds you.

"I don't know about that, at least not this time," you admit.

"This got something to do with Bradshaw?"

"You're too observant to play dumb," is how you answer.

"What, is this a kiss and not tell situation?" There's a cloud in the green of Jake's eyes as he asks, and you're tempted to answer, but quite honestly, you weren't sure if there was a statute of limitations on don't kiss and tell, and you're not sure if your first kiss when you were 13 counts.

"No, it's a different kind of history," is what you actually say. "I'll be okay, you go on though, I just need a minute," you urge.

Jake hesitates, not at all sold on what you'd said, but slowly, he takes a step forward and then another until he's approaching the pool table again.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes

[bluespiritshonour]

Oh my God!

I just caught up with World's Finest: Teen Titans and I absolutely have to write this out:

First of all, I love this cover:

The thing that caught my eye: “you're grounded.”

Not the dramatic “you're fired” as if the motherfucker didn't raise that damn kid in his own damn house for YEARS.

(I know. I know. Bar on the ground, but what would you?)

Also, the anger palpable on Bruce's face and Dick's absolute disregard for it. I'm laughing here y'all. This is what teenagers act like. This is what fights between parents and children look like.

Also. Dick Grayson, I've been missing. You're back from war!

I love how curt he is. The “Get lost” hits in all the right places. We love a strongly-principled character that stands for what he believes in. With all the lukewarm Dick Grayson writing floating around I felt like walking into a coffee shop while it's snowing outside.

More of this writing, please.

I'd been waiting for this moment all through this series.

This conversation.

I compare things all the time. It might not be the right thing in every field but I think it serves well when it comes to comic books. We all have personal “canon criteria”—for example, mine are “Darwyn Cooke wrote this Bruce so I'm taking it as valid characterisation ” or “Every version of Bruce played by Kevin Conroy is valid”. (Minus Bruce Timm bullshit!)

Which was what cinched my hatred for Bruce after reading a Robin short story that Cooke wrote and alluded to Robin: Year One in it. I mean, I might not fuck with Dixon, but am I going to call even Cooke's Bruce OOC? No. It means Bruce is a jerk. Full stop.

Waid is one of the writers I respect (excluding Kingdom Come. I hate it and I can't put my finger on the why. But I just do: I hate it. I hate it for Clark. I hate it for Diana. And I'm a professional Bruce-hater so let's not even go there. I hate it for Dick too.)

And Dick and Bruce's relationship has a lot of baggage from the fact that a) Bruce is himself traumatised and fails to meet Dick's emotional needs b) he wasn't ready to be a father when he adopted Dick c) Dick simply suffers from being the eldest—the test child.

And very rarely have I seen writers manage to walk on the thin line of complicated-but-dedicated-and-strong.

Young Justice cartoon did it. Dick and Bruce's relationship is going strong. But they fight and have different values. And Dick can see all that is wrong with Bruce's approach to vigilantism in particular and life in general.

Grimm (Legends of the Dark Knight #149-154) did it right. Where Bruce hurt Dick deeply and made him feel unwanted all the while overthinking about Dick's well-being. Way to go, buddy! You can see the repercussions it has for Dick while simultaneously stare at this man who's tying himself into knots trying to think how best to parent.

I think that's what most Bruce and Dick comics miss: the excessive worrying. They don't show the worry, make them fight for drama, never address it apart from throwing out a “it's because Bruce's worried” (bitch, where?) and have Dick running back to Gotham at the first chance. It sounds an awful lot like “your parents hurt you 'cause they love you” bullshit.

I think World's Finest manages it well because foremost, Bruce says, in words, that he's worried about Dick's well-being. He's taciturn, he's putting constant pressure on Dick all in the hopes of making him quit Titans. All this makes him a jerk. But I don't hate him for it.

It's between Dick's “you don't trust me” and Bruce's “no, I don't trust them.”

Most teenagers clash with their parents. It's normal. That's what Waid has shown here and I love it. It feels very—normal?

Especially when the Bats aren't normal! Bruce sure as fuck ain't a normal parent. But there was something very bitter-sweet coming-of-age in this conversation.

Bruce does all those things that are bad for Dick and his growing independence. You're not supposed to handle teenagers like that.

He's worried and taking desperate measures. “If I punish him, then maybe he'll obey me and quit Titans and then he'll he safe”—lots of parents who don't know how to deal with teenagers do it.

But the sequence of it: Bruce is worried → Bruce wants Dick to quit Titans → for Dick it means proving himself to be better, to not get hurt (as if he can control that beyond a certain point) → Bruce being alarmed at Dick's insistence to stay with the Titans and taking desperate measures like benching him.

At least it makes sense.

Compare it to Dixon's Nightwing origin story, which honestly, personally I think was lazy writing. Drama for drama's sake. “You’re fired because you're spending too much time with the Titans.” The same writer also had Bruce say that he did it because he wanted Dick to strike out on his own. Blah, blah, blah.

And no matter whatever happens he'd never ever say it to Dick's face that he's worried about him because—well, reasons.

Robin: Year One logic:

I'm worried about Dick's health so I fire him. He runs off and can get hurt? He joins a school for assasins? None of my business. He can get hurt on his own, I don't care as long as it is not on my conscience. Peace.

—Bruce “professional narcissist” Wayne.

So, yes. When faced with this book(WF: TT), I'd call Dixon's writing lazy.

I'm also comparing this to several other instances when Bruce verbally says (never to Dick, mind you) that he loves that Dick's a better person and better vigilante than him. But in the same book he'd yell at Dick for exactly the same thing. (I consider that lazy writing, since BTAS made sure to show a shot of Bruce smiling whenever Dick was happy/not like him).

I like this thing here where he says it to Dick's face. He's still grounding him for “discipline's sake” or whatever—very, very IC for Bruce.

But he also lets Dick know that he appreciates his values, that are different—better—than Bruce's own.

I can stomach that.

Honestly Bruce's writing in this book felt like BtAS writing (pre-Bruce Timm fuckery). That's a compliment.

P.S. Waid's a good story-teller overall. His Superman: Birthright was one of the first Superman comics I read and I fell in love with Clark right away.

Peace ✌️😂

[nerdygoth77]

Some of my favorite Porter Gage lines!

“Keep your irradiated ASS away from me” 

“Boss”  

“Piss me off and I’ll still kick your ass from here to the Atlantic.” 

“Sure was fun! Huh Boss?” 

“I ain’t got the brains for mazes” 

“How's it go? “This town ain't big enough for you and me?” Awh nevermind :(“ 

“Ain't no way people paid for this shit, I refuse to believe it.” 

“Who the hell's idea of fun was this shit?”

“Ever feel the tiniest bit hurt that the institute hasn’t tried to replace you with a synth? I mean c’mon! I’m important. I-I’m worth replacing......” 

“Think about it…. If beer is still good after two hundred years.. Is it really something worth drinking?” 

“Personally, wouldn’t ever trust anyone to knock me out with gas or whatever, even if they claimed they were going to help.” 

“Can you imagine… having so much extra shit you’d need someplace to store it all” 

“Not paying ATTENTION-” (I fuck up a lot and trigger traps LOL)

“Not a big fan of being underground, so the sooner we wrap this up the better.” 

“Once upon a time, I suppose folks had nothing better to do than sit around outside”

“Greeaaat, because I ain’t seen enough trees and grass.” 

“Like I hadn’t already seen enough glowing shit to last a lifetime.” 

“Believe it or not, this is more civilized than some places i've lived”

"One of these bugs ever takes me down you tell people I died from trippin’ over my gun, fallin’ off a cliff, anything! It would be less embarrassing.” 

“Places like this….Makes me realize life was mostly shit before the bombs fell” 

“God…. Being in here is soul sucking.” 

“I hope you know where you’re going, I forgot my map.” 

“Least we ain't gotta worry about being hit by a train…..Right?”

“No question that shit was made to last…Maybe the wrong shit but still.”

“Me? I like night time. Something about it just feels right.” 

“You’re a real stunner, ya know that?”

“Are you shittin’ me” 

“Ever seen a dust angel? Bettin’ I could make one.” 

“Shiiiiitt I hate getting weeettt” 

“I’ve got a strong stomach, but ewwugh.” 

“You’re my kind of crazy boss.” 

“Boy do I love watching you work.” 

“Anyone ever tell you….your ass looks great in that vault suit.” 

“Don’t know about you, but I can’t see in the dark.” 

“You’ll always be the overboss of my heart- Hehehehe I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t keep a straight face.”

“Blamo” 

“Sheeeeeettt” 

“Don't mind me, just throwing up a bit in my mouth here.” 

“Damn, I hate insects. Like I needed something else to wipe off my fucking shoes” 

“VerMIN”

Everything. Just everything he says is wonderful. His voice is so fucking sexy.

"I'm not that big of a dick"

"Bullshit. Without me I'd be scraping your guts off the floor"

"Before you start pissing all over the plan, why don't you take a minute to hear me out."

"You ready to listen?"

"You're one ruthless son of a bitch aren't ya?"

"Awwwhh C'mon :("

"Just give this a chance, you might even have a little fun."

"Tell yuh whut."

"Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"Welcome home, boss."

"I knew you had it in you."

"Next, the fun stuff."

"You look like shit."

He refers to getting high as "Getting blitz." LOL

"Well that oughta make things more interesting"

"hehehe OOPS."

"The fun we can have in this thing!"

"That one have pictures in it?"

"I like a good haul as much as the next guy-"

"You sure you got everything? There's a few more rocks you haven't picked up."

"I never had the hands for that kind of shit. Glad you do."

"You got some nimble fingers there huh?"

"You okay?" (When he shows concern?? UGH)

"Well now, would you look at that."

"Oh for the love of-"

"You gonna build me something nice?"

"Lookin good, Boss."

"oooh, gutsy."

"Pretty tough mutt you got there." (Any dialogue about Dogmeat is great)

"Aww, look at how nice and clean this is, and I here am, dirtying the place up." (one of my favorites)

There's so so many more but I didn't want this to get crazy long

[miyaheestar]

A DATE?!

context : reader is asl sister and dating a certain dark haired man

warning : there's curse words lol + a brief mention of zolu + mention of sex

you look at yourself in the mirror and then let out a satisfied whistle, "look so damn good."

looking to your left, there's your sling bag that your beloved boyfriend bought for you for your birthday made a smile bloomed on your face.

you quickly took your phone, tucking it inside of your bag and took the new heels that you just got for tonight's date and walk downstairs.

"sabo, you dont have to cook extra today. i won't be home for dinner." you said to your older brother that are reading his book and he just hummed to acknowledge you while your eldest brother raise his eyebrows but still not looking at you since he's still playing a game on the tv, "where are ya going, y/n?"

"a date."

you pretty sure you heard someone's neck crack because of how fast ace and sabo turn their their heads towards you and finally noticing that you're all dressed up.

luffy also look at you before he bluntly asked "are you going out with traffy?"

"traffy?!" sabo and ace asked loudly. ace walk towards you fast, "young lady, you ain't going out with him! he got a tattoos on his body and.. and.. and.. he got a goatee!"

sabo nodded and he took your heels away from you, "and he's literally older than me and ace! why would you date an old man?!"

you look at your overprotective brothers with a tired sigh. "first of all, im an adult. i can do whatever i want, date whoever i want. second of all, ace you also have a tattoo."

ace frowned when you pointed that out and grumbles something you can't hear under his breath angrily.

"sabo, he's only 2 years older than you. our dad is 10 years older than mom so why does that matters?" you asked them with an annoyed look on your face.

"traffy is a good guy, don't worry!" luffy smiled and give a thumbs up to his brothers and immediately got ignored making him pout and focusing back on his game.

"how long have you been dating him?" sabo asked after few minutes of silence. you sigh in relief when he finally relaxed. "almost a year now. today is our first anniversary." you mutter nervously, looking down on your feet to ignore ace's glares.

"why didn't you tell us about this?" this time ace is the one that asked and you immediately gulped, your eldest brother is too scary.

"luffy knows and um i didn't tell you guys because i was not ready."

ace and sabo immediately look at the youngest and luffy didn't even act like he cares as he munch on his chips. "what? traffy said he gonna take care of her and i trust traffy."

"have you guys ever had sex?" sabo asked seriously and you immediately choked on your spit making you cough loudly.

"y/n!" ace immediately pat your back gently. "calm down you idiot."

after drinking water thanks to sabo sprinting to the kitchen you calmed down. "no we haven't.. done that yet."

"okay good. make sure you use protection if you.. do that" sabo pat your head before he share a look with ace.

".. have you two kissed?"

well now that's a dumb question. who would ask that to their sister who has been dating a guy for a year?

"are you dumb?" luffy asked before you can even say anything and god it made you cackled so loud.

after few seconds there's knocks on the door, you were about to open the door when sabo stopped you and let ace open the door instead.

and there were your handsome boyfriend standing perfectly with a bouquet on his hand, he look a bit confused before realizing that your brothers finally found out about the relationship.

"..hello, im here to pick up y/n." law said to ace and sabo calmly and silently nod at luffy to greet him making the younger one waved happily. "HI TRAFFY!"

"hi babe" you smiled as you walk to your boyfriend. "dont mind them, they're just being dumb." you said as you kissed his cheek and law feel like sabo and ace glares can literally set him on fire.

"im going now, dont follow us you shitheads!" you warned your brothers before wearing your heels and dragging your man yes YOUR MAN away from your house.

"LANGUAGE!" you heard your brothers shouted.

after finally getting a moment to be alone with him in the car, you sighed and held his hand, "sorry about that. you know.. how crazy they are when they found out luffy was dating zoro too."

law just shook his head and gently caress your face, "don't worry about it. now shall we go? because i can see your brothers staring at us from the bushes"

you rolled your eyes with a laugh, "yes let's just hope those idiots won't interrupt us the way they interrupt luffy's date."

[celestialhole]

Simon Riley x GN!reader headcanons

Warnings: Contains NSFW content below the cut, read at your own risk! Sorta proofread, random as fuck but here's your din din. Thinking about Simon Riley who uses his kids as weights for him to lift while working out. Just for fun. He likes hearing his kids laugh and giggle. Simon Riley who gets hella annoyed when your family/extended family buys so much crap for the kids. "The bloody hell they need this for? Don't we already have the damn pool outside!?" Simon looked down at the huge box in their living room, it was a goddamn bouncy house for the little ones. "I dunno Si. We can put it in the frontyar-" "WE ALREADY HAVE THE BALL PIT OUTSIDE!"

Never really celebrated his birthday before meeting you. You started giving him presents, taking him out, and taking him back to hotels (or your home) to ride him til' dawn. Now that you have little ones you all plan a small birthday party for him since he's old and grumpy. You give him one of his favorite desserts, have all the kids pile on him, and show him some love it resulted in him counting to 5 before chasing them all down while you record all of it.

Will fantasize about what life could've been like if his family were still here with him, what it could've been like if they had lived long enough to meet you. He's sure his Mother and Nephew would've loved you, and his brother would tease him n' say something like, "Now you know how it feels, it ain't as bad as you thought huh?" He wished to God he'd get to experience that in another lifetime. In my world, he doesn't celebrate Christmas and we know damn well why. If he's been with you for a long time he'll find a way to make something for you to make it special or he'll buy you something you mentioned wanting a few weeks or months back. But don't expect him to place a big ass tree in his apartment. If you manage to convince him to buy a tree he'll buy it and maybe a few ornaments he likes but the rest you're buying. Riley totally tore that bitch up and trust me, he tried to stop her but it was too early in the morning for that and he didn't want the tree anyways so he just sighs, puts some tea on the kettle grabs his reading glasses and his favorite book, and just relaxes on the couch as his military dog is tearing up your 350$ Christmas tree. "Jesus fucking Christ what happened in here!?" You stumbled over an ornament as you walked into the living room. Simon was chilling peacefully on the couch as Riley held a broken branch in her mouth and they both looked as if there wasn't a shit tone of ornaments and small pieces of the tree everywhere. It looked like a cluster fuck in your living room. "Tree became a chew toy," Simon mumbled. "I can see that.. And you didn't stop her?!" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Tried to, then it fell and I gave up," Simon took a sip of his tea and turned a page of the book he was reading. "Oh for fucks sake Simon.." You rubbed your eyes and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at you from the couch with an amused smile and looked back down at his book. "...This is what happens when we don't listen to Simon says-" "I'm kicking you and Riley out." You cut him off.

I see this man with an uncut shave because he's too lazy for that shit, however, if he notices he has a whole ass fucking jungle down there he'll trim it and then leave it alone for another 5 months. A solid 7 inches when soft and hard. Girth? Lots of it. Saggy balls. The type of man who doesn't notice when you get something done (hair, nails, etc). When you ask him if he notices anything different he'll immediately look at your ass to see if those squats did you any good. Speaking of your ass he loves your ass. Flat or thick he's smacking it when he casually walks past you. If you're plus-sized or just thicc it's even better. Don't ever bend over with this man in your perimeter. And it's even worse when you're in front of him and walking up the stairs cause he's staring hard at it. When you bend over he's smacking it, groping it, caressing it, and if he's really bold he's sneaking a quick hump against it. It's all shits and giggles till he's in that position. And you never hold back either. Now he doesn't trust walking up the stairs in front of you because you won't stop poking his ass and he hates it he loves you anyways. Call him daddy and he's not gonna speak or look at you for the rest of the day. You've made him spiritually nauseous good job. HE'S A BODY MAN BUT IN MY WORLD HE'S A THIGH AND TUMMY MAN! Also, I can see him being obsessed with ya nipple piercings if you ever got them. But nipple piercings are one thing, a genital piercing IS ANOTHER THING. Mutual masturbation is a must on the weekend mornings. He'll wake you up with pepper kisses to your neck while his hand is rubbing your tummy, when you wake up he'll gradually run his hands over your chest and pinch your nipple before moving his hand down to caress your arousal. He sucks the skin on your shoulder and neck to pleasure you and when you turn over to stroke his already hardened cock, he groans and moves his hips to slowly thrust his cock along your hand while his fingers slowly speed up. Now imagine his groans + his morning voice. This man loves you with every fiber of his being and tries his very best to make sure you know he loves you no matter what, so don't even think about asking him if he'll still love you as a worm. He'll keep you safely tucked in the pocket of his shirt and feed you noodles. He doesn't give two shits if you're hairy, plus-sized, or "unattractive". He'll cross the Amazon or even Antarctica to eat your ass I'm just saying. Don't protest or even speak, just bend over and let him have fun with his beautiful partner.